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turtle-babe83 · 2 years

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Hello my dear,

I hardly dare ask, but... would you maybe write another story for me?

A story with Leo x f.Reader ...

Leo is writing online with April's girlfriend/roommate without her knowing it's the Turtle Leader.

But Vern hears about it and talks so badly about an arranged meeting at Leo's that he doesn't want to come to the meeting anymore. Who is he anyway? Who would want him?

Instead Vern plays an evil game and wants to pretend to be the unknown man from the chat....!

But.....

Request by @tkappi

Hehehe let’s ruin Vern’s evil plan, shall we? *rubs hands together with maniacal laughter*

Best ‘Laid’ Plans…

Leonardo x F!Reader (featuring a rather naughty cameo by Raphael per request)

Warning: Language and NSFW 18+ only

Click…click click…clickety click…

The screen cast a blue sheen over Leonardo’s face as he typed away. This online correspondence had been going on for weeks. April had set it up, knowing that you, her roommate, would be a perfect match for the stalwart turtle. She had surmised that getting the two of you to converse without appearances getting in the way was the best start. Once you both were hooked on one another, she could push for an in person meeting.

Well, it apparently had reached that time. April had encouraged you to ask to meet, and Leo was trying to get out of it. You weren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer though. He desperately wanted to meet you, but fear still held him back. He wasn’t exactly human. Then his phone buzzed. It was a text from April informing him that the meeting was her idea. He sighed. It was hard to turn her down. Despite his better judgement, he agreed to meet on Sunday evening at the park. He had exactly three days to be anxious and try not to have a panic attack.

💻💻💻

Vern decided to stop by with some pizzas on Saturday afternoon, before the turtles went out on patrol. The Knicks were playing against a bitter rival and Donnie had the best damn set up that he’d seen anywhere. The guys gathered around the curved big screen, enjoying the amazing surround sound that Donnie had tweaked. During halftime, the talk turned to Leo’s big meeting. Vern suddenly perked up.

“Did you say you are meeting April’s roommate?” he asked casually.

Leo nodded, “Yeah, we’ve been chatting online for awhile now. She’s pretty amazing.”

“She is,” Vern agreed, “I’ve met her. She’s smoking hot.”

Suddenly, every turtle was staring at the cameraman. Inwardly, he smirked. The slightest bit of trepidation flared in the leader’s eyes. Vern decided at that moment to exploit it and give himself an advantage. He spent the rest of the break describing your attractive attributes and gloating at the rapt attention of Leo and his brothers.

After the game, Leo dismissed the guys to go get ready for patrol. As he went to the weapons rack to grab his katanas, Vern followed.

“Leo, are you sure about this? I mean, she’s stunning, and you’re…..well,” Vern motioned to the six foot tall mutant with a skeptical expression.

Leo frowned. This was exactly what had been running through his own head. How did Vern know? Perhaps this was a bad idea. His heart clenched at the thought of you rejecting him based on sight.

“I should just cancel,” he muttered softly.

Vern put a hand on his shoulder in false reassurance and squeezed.

“I’m sorry, buddy. It’s a tough call, but it’s the right one. You know what? I’ll talk to her for you. Let her down easy.”

Leo looked up in surprise, “You would do that for me?”

Vern smiled, “Of course, Leo. What are friends for?”

🌔🌗🌒

Sunday night finally rolled around. Leo was sitting at home depressed. He hadn’t even bothered to check the chat, feeling too distraught to see what you said after talking with Vern. What had he been thinking? What had April been thinking? There’s no way a beautiful human woman would accept a mutant turtle for a partner. It was better this way. Right? So why did his heart hurt so bad?

His phone buzzed. He nearly didn’t look to see who it was, but then Donnie strolled by and glanced at the screen. The genius paused. Seeing that Leo was completely ignoring the phone, he frowned. It wasn’t like the leader to be so out of sorts.

“You gonna answer April?” he asked pointedly. “And it’s Sunday. I thought you had that meeting with her roommate?”

Leo shrugged dejectedly. When Donnie just kept standing there, he knew his little brother wouldn’t budge without an answer.

“I’m not going. I’m just gonna get my heart broken when she sees what I am and runs away screaming.”

Donnie huffed. Then he picked up Leo’s phone and opened the text from April. She was letting him know that you were about to leave to meet him.

“It’s not like you to at least politely cancel. I’m actually quite shocked that you’re standing her up,” Donnie mused.

Leo looked up in surprise, “What? Vern said he knows her well and that he would cancel for me. Let her down gently.”

Donnie waved the phone, “Well, according to April, she’s on her way.”

Alarm bells started going off in Donnie’s head. He had a feeling he knew what was happening here.

“Leo, did you decide to bow out because of something Vern said to you?”

Leo winced, but nodded sheepishly.

“Shit. I think Vern is trying to steal your girl, bro. I think I can fix this though.”

With that, Donnie took off walking towards the lab.

“Oh and you might want to take a shower. Self-pity isn’t a good cologne.”

🚿🚿🚿

Donnie smirked as he got off the phone with April. You were now headed to an abandoned subway station near the entrance to the lair with her. Now, time to get back at Vern. His next phone call was to Casey Jones.

“Hey Case! I need a quick favor.”

After explaining his plan, the rookie detective agreed. There wasn’t much time but the genius had a few tricks up his proverbial sleeve. After telling Leo where to meet the ladies, he grabbed Mikey for backup and headed to the park.

🕳🕳🕳

Leo dressed in his dressier pants, wore his nicer sandals, and left his wrappings at home. He debated on the katanas, but decided he didn’t want to completely terrify you further. He kept his bandana on for comfort sake.

The closer he got to your location, the more nervous he felt. All the possibilities of what could go wrong would swimming in his head. Leo felt like he could throw up. He could hear feminine voices up ahead and took a moment just to breathe deeply and center himself. Deciding that delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make it hurt any less, he straightened his shoulders and strode forward with false bravado. Then there you were. Your back was to him, but his eyes drifted over every curve. Damn.

April caught sight of him and smiled encouragingly. He gave a slight nod, and she whispered to you. He watched your body stiffen, then you were turning slowly. It only just now occurred to him that you might be nervous about meeting him as well. He steeled himself for your fear and rejection as you came full circle, eyes to the ground. Then you lifted your gaze and gasped.

“Fearless0584?” you asked in a breathy tone.

Leo managed to eke out a “yes.”

Your eyes sparkled as you took him in. April had explained to you who and what Leo was. While you had been intrigued and albeit skeptical, you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him through your many chats and messages. He was much more handsome than you had imagined and the thought that such a glorious creature could be yours was intoxicating.

“I’m y/n,” you murmured, holding out a hand for him to shake.

Leo stared at your outstretched hand like he had never seen one before. He opened his mouth, then shut it. He was clearly having trouble articulating a response. Finally, he took your hand and shook gently.

“You aren’t screaming and running away,” he mumbled, more a question than a statement.

April smiled, “I filled her in on the way over. Figured it would make things go smoother. Now, if you two are cool, I’m going to go meet the others at the park.”

You noticed that Leo still held your hand, staring at you in wonder. You waved April on. The poor turtle was so enraptured by you. You had a feeling that things were going to be just fine.

“So, can we go somewhere to talk?” you asked.

Leo seemed to break free from his revery and let go of your hand to rub at the back of his neck. He’s still couldn’t believe how well you were taking all of this.

“Yeah, sure. My home is this way,“ he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

Smiling, you put your arm through his, saying, “Lead the way, Leonardo.”

Oh, but he liked the way his name sounded on your lips. As the pair of you strolled down the tunnels, you engaged the ninja leader in small talk. Leo was finding you just as easy to talk to in person as you were online.

When you reached the lair, he gave a quick perfunctory tour. After offering some hot herbal tea, he took you to his bedroom to relax and visit quietly. The conversation continued to flow easily and then the talk turned to a flirtier tone. You scooted closer, placing your hand over his. Leo had been staring at your lips for the past half hour, totally unaware. You turned your head up and leaned in, waiting to see if he would take the hint.

Leo’s heart was pounding. He hadn’t counted on how seeing you in person would set his desires aflame. God, you were sexy. The hint was taken and he crushed his lips to yours. He slipped a hand behind your head and held you, though you had no intention on moving away. His lips were unbelievably soft and despite his lack of experience, he was kissing you so sensually. Heat licked your core and you climbed into his lap, trying to get closer. Leo groaned into your mouth and wrapped an arm around you. The more you made out, the handsier he became. Then suddenly, he pulled back.

“I’m sorry! Jeez, I’m basically mauling you here,” he apologized, dropping his eyes to the blanket on his bed.

You lifted his chin and looked deeply into his eyes, letting him see the lust shining there.

“I wouldn’t mind getting mauled some more,” you purred.

Leo gulped, “You sure?”

You answered by yanking your shirt over your head, “I’ve had it bad for you for awhile, Leo. You’re different from all the other guys I’ve dealt with, and I don’t just mean your appearance. Although, I have to say, you are incredibly handsome.”

If turtles could blush, Leo would be ten shades of red right now. His eyes were glued to your exposed chest, and with a giggle, you placed his hand over your breast. He squeezed gently, and then he leaned forward for another kiss.

🫦🫦🫦

Raphael searched all through the lair. Donnie and Mikey weren’t in their usual spots. Splinter was already in bed. Maybe Leo was still in his room moping over his missed meeting. Silently, Raph made his way to the leader’s room and peeked through the crack in the door. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

Leo was laying atop a pretty girl, who was shirtless, and he was covering her breasts with open-mouth kisses. The girl was moaning and started pushing at his pants. Raph’s jaw dropped. Was Lameonardo about to get laid? As he watched, barely believing, his older brother proceeded to undress himself and his female companion. While he couldn’t make out their murmured words, they were clearly smitten and giving one another the sweet, goo-goo eyes.

Raph knew he should turn away. They deserved privacy. Leo would skin him alive if he ever found out that Raph was seeing any of this. But then, perfect Leo, always such a gentleman and so honorable, he spread her thighs wide, and shoved his cock deep. Hearing the girl’s moan and seeing his older brother being naughty, well…

Raphael looked around quickly. The coast was clear, no sign of the others yet. And honestly, they would be too occupied to notice him, right? His erection pushed against the zipper of his cargos. Quickly unbuttoning the fastener and lowering the zipper, he eased his cock out and gripped it with a tight fist.

Leo groaned as he entered a warm heaven. Your walls were so tight and welcoming, gripping his cock as he took his time with slow, steady thrusts. You gazed up at him with lust drunk eyes as your mouth hung open in a perpetual moan. Maybe it was moving fast, but dear lord, this felt incredible. Leo captured your lips once again, and slid an arm under your left leg to open you wider. His cock struck your cervix at this angle and you whimpered, pressure building tighter and tighter.

Raph pumped faster, using his precum to help with the friction as he watched you come unraveled. You panted, legs stiffened, as you rolled your hips frantically. Leo quickened his own thrusts as you rode the wave of your orgasm. Raph felt his balls tightening in the telltale sign that he was about to cum, and took the few steps to the bathroom and licked himself in the finish. When he was done, he looked up into the mirror with guilty eyes. Well, things would be awkward for him for a little while.

Leo finished with a grunt, emptying himself deep within your velvety walls, still sensitive from your release. He rolled over to keep from crushing you, and pulled you up on his plastron. You covered his face with soft pecks, thanking him for such a beautiful experience. You were completely smitten with the mutant, already hearing wedding bells in your head. Best to keep that to myself for now, you thought with a smile.

💙💙💙

Donnie and Mikey were still cackling and fist bumping when they got home about an hour later. Raph looked up from where he was rifling through the fridge for a snack.

“Where ya been?”

Mikey howled with laughter, “Dude! So, Vern had this like, evil plan to steal Leo’s girl, right?”

“And I figured it out, naturally,” Donnie interrupted.

Mikey waved him off, “Yeah, yeah. You’re a genius, we all know. So, anyway, Donnie got this idea to dress up Casey as the girl, and he had a little speaker that Don made-“

“Not specifically for this. It’s a project that I’ve been work-“

“Aaaanyways, as I was saying, Don made this speaker so April could provide the voice. In the dark of the park, with the voice thingy,” Mikey went on.

“There’s a technical name for it,” Donnie attempted to cut in, but Mikey ignored him.

“Vern totally fell for it! He thought he was meeting a hot chick! I got it all on video, bro,” Mikey finished.

Donnie started cracking up all over again, “Wait’ll you see his face! It was priceless!”

The tall terrapin took off his glasses to wipe at the tears in his eyes. When he put them back on, he was surprised to see a young woman come into the kitchen. Wearing one of Leo’s t-shirts, and bare legs, you were very attractive. All three turtles stared. You grabbed two bottles of water, then waved.

“Hi, I’m y/n. You must be Leo’s brothers! I’ll meet you properly at breakfast. Good night!”

You walked back to Leo’s room with a smirk. They were just going to have to get used to seeing your face around here.

💙

@exovapor @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @raisin-shell @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @roxosupreme @zowise2912 @xanadu702 @brightlotusmoon @chicchanmooshy @fyreball66 @wingsofgossamer @thelostandforgottenangel @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @labeccy @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @7mika8 @misteria247 @ladyofparchments @raphielover @tortuefaerie @bunnyraptor69 @polypandragon @avvaazz @tkappi @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @pheradream15 @rheawritesforfun @mrsjigsaw @yumefuusen @cowabunga-doll @coulrofilia-sexuell @lilyssims @daedric-sorceress @creepylittlemarvelgirl @raphslovemuffin80 @raphsgrl @drowninghell @fluffytriceratops @angelcatlowyn @turtlesmakemehappy @kawaiibunga @narwals14

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fanfic #leonardo #bayverse leonardo #tmnt leo x reader #leo x reader #bayverse leo #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #leonardo x reader #turtlebabe83 #thanks for the ask #Bayverse Vern #Bayverse April

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littleperilstories · 1 year

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The Prince of Thieves: My Heart Breaks For You

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03!

Warnings: Fantasy-esque prison, mention of death, mention of flogging/whipping/public humiliation, grief, angst, deceiving a loved one

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Word count: 2139 || Approx reading time: 9 mins

My Heart Breaks For You

Teaser: He must be alarmed, panicking even, as I stand trembling before him, wondering if I can keep my composure enough to tell him what I witnessed at the prison with even a mite of dignity. Breathe. I need to breathe. My shuddering breath, it seems, is the only thing over which I have control right now. Everything else is slipping out of my grasp. Will: gone, and now hurt. Runners: arrested and even dying. Jamie: cracking apart day by day.

Colette

I stumble away from the prison walls. Numbness engulfs my entire body, and not just because of the wind that blows brittle, rust-coloured leaves from the trees and bites into my skin with sharp, icy teeth.

I should have known coming here was a bad idea. A foolhardy idea, and dangerous to boot. But what choice did I have? By this morning, the marketplace was already buzzing with the news: yet again, a wicked thief had targeted one of the finest families in town, and the constables had carted away yet another burglar in chains under the cloak of midnight. It didn’t take me long to learn that it was the Smiths who summoned the constabulary in the night, or to surmise that it was yet another of our runners who’d been arrested—this time, a girl I’d hand-picked for the job.

That girl, that runner—what name did I give her? Robin?—now facing conviction or, if recent events are a portent of what’s coming, execution.

Frustration fueled each wary step as I cut through the crowd toward the jailhouse, leaving Geoff to his own information-gathering under the guise of shopping. I only went snooping near the prison to look for new signage, to see if the constables planned to hang the girl, too. I didn’t expect to see anything happening within the prison-yard’s walls.

A restless crowd—babbling excitedly and gathering near the gates—drew me closer despite my apprehension, more than just macabre curiosity pulling me into the throng.

Not daring to ask anyone what was going on, I snaked through the crowd to get as close to the wrought-iron fence as my courage—and good sense—permitted. Titters, mocking laughter, and jeering calls swelled around me at the grim scene being performed at the jail yard’s whipping post.

“See what happens when you think you’re too good to follow the law?”

“Make sure it hurts!”

“Make ’im bleed!”

Now, I close my eyes against the memory, wishing I could forget every moment of the sick pantomime that played out there.

Exactly what prompted the second act of the constables’ horrid performance, I’m still unsure of—something involving Will’s temper and caustic tongue, I’m sure of it—but I’ll never be able to unsee the stripes that awful man painted across his back. Or the way his limp body hit the ground when they were done with him.

“Spider?”

I don’t know where Geoff came from, or how I’ve made it back to the marketplace, or how many times he had to say my name before I heard it.

“What is it?”

He must be alarmed, panicking even, as I stand trembling before him, wondering if I can keep my composure enough to tell him what I witnessed at the prison with even a mite of dignity. Breathe. I need to breathe. My shuddering breath, it seems, is the only thing over which I have control right now. Everything else is slipping out of my grasp. Will: gone, and now hurt. Runners: arrested and even dying. Jamie: cracking apart day by day.

“Spider? You sick?”

“No. Yes. No.” I force back the tears that are battling viciously to escape, determined to be the victor. “How am I going to tell him?”

Geoff stiffens. “Who? What?”

Although I want nothing more than to spill the whole wretched story, I wait. “We should keep moving.” Standing still offers too many opportunities for nosy people to overhear…the last thing we need right now.

He walks stiffly with his hands at his sides, a crude mockery of the soldiers and constables who hunt us every day. His face is unreadable to anyone else who might try to discern any emotion in his gaze, but I know him well enough to see the tension lurking there. Swallowing a fresh batch of tears—get back, you fuckers—I suck in a deep breath. Geoff is a good listener, and except for perhaps Will, he knows Jamie better than anyone. He’ll have some idea of what to do.

I launch into the story—how I snuck into the crowd just in time to see Will being disciplined in front of everyone, how that evil constable picked some girl and made her count each strike, how Will fucked himself over even more by mouthing off—even though I couldn’t fully hear what he said, it was quite clear what was happening—and subsequently getting flogged with the cat-o’-nine-tails.

Geoff is silent as he listens, his eyes fixed upon the road in front of us. As my words die out, I watch his hands curl into fists, the only hint he’s heard a single thing I’ve said. And that he’s fucking pissed about it.

“Bastards,” he growls. “Every single one of them.”

Icy rain is falling now, sharp jabs of freezing fucking water pricking into my face and hands. I adjust the hood of my cloak, pulling it farther over my face as I watch the drops splatter against the ground. The smell of rain is usually so comforting, but here in the thick of the city, all I can smell is wet wool and misery. “I have to tell him, right?”

Only the raindrops answer at first as Geoff considers. “He’ll…want to know Fox is still alive.”

Turning my face away, I wipe my eyes. “It might kill him.”

“It won’t.”

“But it might.”

“But it won’t.” Geoff tilts his head toward the sky, apparently unbothered by the frigid water pelting him in the face. “Don’t go into detail.”

“I can’t lie,” I whisper. “Not to him.” Another thought strikes me. “And…that crowd… So many were there, watching. Enjoying it. People—they’ll talk. He might hear about it anyway.”

With a shake of his head, he says, “You don’t have to lie. Tell him you saw Fox, and if he asks for more, tell him he was shooting off his mouth and he got whipped and leave it at that.” Geoff forces out each word through gritted teeth, and even though I know he isn’t directing his anger at me, I flinch anyway.

Perhaps he notices, for when he speaks again, his voice holds a touch more gentleness, his ire reined in. “It’ll fuck with him no matter what you say, Spider. Don’t put those pictures in his head, too.”

Perhaps he’s right.

Thankfully, thankfully, Jamie is where we left him—at the table, now littered with coins he’s organized into neat stacks. He sits dividing those meagre funds, all we have left, into care packages. The clink of coins mingles with the patter of rain against the roof and window, another sound that typically brings me solace but today makes me want to cover my ears and scream. When he speaks, he doesn’t look up from his counting. “What news?”

The question, which should be so very simple, pierces me like a blade. “Well, hello to you, too, Alpha.” Desperate. Forced. That’s how I sound. Can he tell I’m trying too hard to seem normal? Jamie glances at me for a moment, his suspicion piqued, but he continues his task.

“Constabulary caught another runner,” I say. Already, my heart is trembling. I fear that if I speak too carelessly and say the wrong thing, I may fall into a chasm whose bottom I cannot see—and that Jamie will tumble down with me. “The girl at the Smith house.”

That freezes him mid-count. “Another one.” It isn’t a question; rather, it is a dull repetition. Flat and emotionless.

In response, I nod, though he isn’t really looking at me. Shadows, born fluid and slippery from the guttering fire, dance on the walls and across his face. “I… I told her. To get out. The day of the execution, I passed a message and told her to scarper.” When I look down, I see the dirt caught beneath my fingernails, the stains on my skin from gripping a rusty wrought-iron bar too tightly. “I told her to be careful. I guess it wasn’t enough.”

Geoff murmurs a response from where he’s grinding tea leaves with the mortar and pestle, and I remember only then that I didn’t tell either of them I slipped a note to the runner that day. “That was stupid, Spider. And reckless.”

“I know.” At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. Now, I’m not so sure. What if she rushed because I frightened her into running off too hastily? If the constables hang her too, will her death weigh on my conscience?

Jamie swallows. Thinks. Stares. What he says, when he opens his mouth, meeting my gaze at long last, makes my eyes burn. “We should go, shouldn’t we? It’s time. Really time.”

We’ve discussed it before: Leaving our little home here in the city, the place we scraped up funds for and have worked so goddamn hard to keep. We all knew, from the moment we learned that man was to be hanged, that this day would come, yet none of us could bear to take the leap.

Jamie’s declaration stings. But he’s looking at me like he needs me to answer, needs to know he’s making the right call. “Yes. It is.” I train my gaze on the bookshelf. Most of those volumes are stolen, and most of them by me, but they are treasured nonetheless. Deserting them is going to hurt as much as leaving behind the memories we made here.

“Call off every job,” Jamie says. “Break communication with every runner. No more drops. Every runner for themselves.” One look at our limited stack of care packages has him squeezing his eyes shut, as if he can hide that his eyes are filling with tears. “It’s too dangerous now. For us. For all of them.”

Geoff abandons his tea-making and stands behind Jamie, laying his hands on his shoulders. Our gentle giant, always there when the alpha wolf needs him.

“We’ll deliver what’s left,” he says gently. “We’ll get them out tomorrow. Then we’ll go.”

Jamie can’t see it, but I can, when Geoff meets my eyes and ever so slightly shakes his head. No, he is saying. I was wrong. His gaze is wide, almost frightened. It is not a look I have seen him wear often. Not now. Not tonight.

Perhaps Jamie can sense something, though, because he looks up at me. His hazel eyes, darker than Will’s but similar enough to identify them as brothers if you know what to look for, are grieving—but still suspicious. “Any other news?”

Again, Geoff shakes his head.

I can’t lie. Not to him, I said earlier. In my mind, the conversation I know I must have with Jamie flows easily; my voice is calm and collected, soothing and comforting. I went… I went by the prison. To look for signs, to see if they’ll hang her too. That’s how I would start. Jamie would nod, patiently waiting, and I would go on, I didn’t see any signs, so…not yet, anyway.

No hanging? he would ask, and I’d shake my head. Relief would burst across his features for the briefest moment, and then he’d bring his mask of emotionlessness right back. He would look into my face, though, deep and thoughtful as ever, and he would see the truth seeping through. He would sense it enough to ask the right question. You didn’t see any signs. What did you see there, Spider?

Perhaps Geoff and I are cowards.

“I didn’t see any signs for a hanging.” This is the test, then—if Jamie Wardrew can really read my face the way I’m terrified he can. “Guess she’s not up for execution.” Yet.

Jamie waits.

“That’s all,” I say, heading for the mortar and pestle. “Hare, if you’re going to make tea, at least finish the job.” The scrape of cast-iron rustles the air as I hang the kettle over the fire.

“Sorry, Spider.”

The lie festers under my skin. How could we—How could I do this to him?

Forgive me, Jamie. It is ludicrous that Geoff is apologizing to me over a contrived conflict over tea leaves, when the person who deserves the apology is sitting at our table with his world falling apart more than he even realizes. Forgive me, Will. He wouldn’t like us to deceive his brother. But he wouldn’t want to see Jamie heartbroken, either.

Forgive me, both of you. I glance over at Geoff, but he’s not looking at me anymore—too tangled up in embracing Jamie, leaving me to stand alone by the rain-splattered window, mired in guilt. To gasp for breath and scrabble for freedom, because the threads of our merciful lie are coiled around my neck like strangling vines.

No, not like vines.

Like a noose.

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Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles .

[Banner ID: A narrow horizontal, rectangular banner featuring a barred archway. The bars and the stone walls evoke the feeling of a dungeon or prison. There are burning candles on either side of the archway. The title of the story, The Prince of Thieves, appears in white text in the centre of the image. The author's username, abbreviated to LPS from littleperilstories, appears in the bottom right corner in partially transparent text. End ID.]

#lps the prince of thieves #oc Bree Cooper #oc Will Wardrew #oc Jamie Wardrew #oc Colette Haris #whump #whump writing #whump story #whump fiction #original fiction #original writing #original story #original content #whumpblr #writeblr #lps-writes #grief #angst

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xiakha · 8 months

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FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #12 - Dowdy

It was quite strange, was it not? If she were to prance around in her nameday suit, there would be many looks and double takes and undoubtedly jeers and name calling, but no one would dare call her "frumpy" or "shabby." But throw on a comfortable though formless sweater and loose pantaloons, and suddenly it felt like the world was staring and judging and perhaps scoring. What was worse, willing away her aethersight and being guided by the arm through the streets only would reveal that the looks and judging was coming from inside herself.

So when it was a day that she wanted simply to be comfortable rather than fashionable, especially on rainy days with nothing urgent going on, Y'shtola preferred to stay in.

A book, some tea, a loose sweater, and just smallclothes. She curled up on the sofa and listened to the rain. What more could she want? Maybe some music. She set the orchestrion to a light and playful piano piece, reminiscent of the lullabies of the First. With the return of the night there, she had gained a new appreciation for these kinds of melodies. The pitter-patter of rain against the windows complemented the slow piano and warm tea. Curled up as she was, her tail over her feet and her knees up in her sweater, she yawned languidly... and soon fell asleep.

She awoke to the thud of cleaver splitting a thick cut of meat.

The couch was catty-cornered to the kitchen and Y'shtola could see Xiao's head over the counter, her back turned. From the neat bow around her neck, Y'shtola surmised the violet Miqo'te was wearing her apron.

"Xiao? What brings you here? Weren't you in Bozja?"

"Awake are you? Aye, but the fighting's died down somewhat after we captured a Castrum, so I thought I'd take a day off to surprise you." She continued chopping the pork belly.

Y'shtola suddenly remembered herself and pulled her legs out of her sweater. Oh, this would never do, did she at least have pants at hand? "Had you let me know you'd be stopping by, I'd have worn something more comely."

Xiao gave her a half glance and a raised eyebrow, "Dimber mort like you worried about the likes of little o' me?" She scooped the chopped meat up with the cleaver to pop into a pot of boiling water, "'Sides, would hardly be a surprise if I let you know."

True, and Y'shtola did hand Xiao her spare keys in case the mood struck her to show up unannounced. Y'shtola had the spare key to Xiao's apartment as well, but it was in the Empyreum, malms away from the generally sunny and almost tropical coastal fare that Limsa had to offer. It was worth the expenditure of aether to return to her own apartment generally, save when there was an extended trip necessary to Ishgard. Xiao barely roomed there at any rate, so busy she was. It was more of a place to drop off gifts for the Warrior of Light and a bed to crash on if she couldn't be bothered to visit the Fortemps Manor.

"Well, I would have at least washed my face this morning, 'tis still unbecoming of a lady to be seen in such a state of undress."

"Milady, I have seen you in far more provocative states of undress." She set the cleaver in he sink and washed her hands, wiping them on the apron.

"But that was how I chose to appear to you. 'Twould be a completely different matter to catch me in the bath."

Xiao chuckled at this. "Hardly have I considered how intentional the presentation of yer lovely form has been. I have been quite remiss." She turned to start up a second burner under a wok and tossed in oil and sugar.

Y'shtola saw then that Xiao had but her smallclothes on under the apron.

"My dear, don't tell me you arrived like that!"

Xiao looked down and then back up at Y'shtola, "Not at all, I left my armor, leathers, and boots by the door. Didn't want to track mud and gore into your nice apartment." Her top was stained, mostly with sweat, and her shorts were rather worse for wear. She had likely gone a few days without bathing or a change of clothes while on campaign.

Well, it said just about all that needed to be said about Xiao's feelings towards presentation and intentionality. Had it been Y'shtola, she'd have at least the decency to bathe and change her clothes before surprising Xiao. She thought of what Xiao had said about her life growing up, how clothing was more of a suggestion than a requirement, with only bits that needed to be tucked away or secured from jostling considered. For Xiao, with her musculature and sunbaked skin, it mainly meant she wore a skirt on most days for a bit of modesty. There was still a need to dress up a bit while dealing with foreigners, sailors, and suitors, of course, but there were days on end when there would be nothing but the sun and the sea.

Beyond Master Matoya, Y'shtola had the constant eyes of her peers to fend off. Matoya mainly cared that Y'shtola avoided making a fool out of herself with her dress and appearance. Her peers cared about fashion. She found herself rehemming her dresses and hiking up her skirts and socks to fit in and meet the approval of the other girls. Later it became a matter of getting the boys to notice without looking desperate to get the boys to notice. At a certain point, Y'shtola made a purposeful effort to buck the trends and dress primarily for comfort and practicality, but that was more of satisfying her own inner critic rather than bowing to the voices of the majority.

Here and now, Xiao flabbergasted her inner critic enough to make it shut up entirely. Y'shtola felt freed, at least temporarily. She arose from the couch and reached out for an embrace and a kiss.

Having received both, she quickly backed off from Xiao, "Dearest, you stink."

"Ah. Well." Xiao turned back to the boiling pot, and ladled out the meat into the wok, "Didn't think it through, I guess." She seemed a bit embarrassed.

"I'll go prepare a bath, and you'll let me know how to continue cooking that pork you've been preparing. Then we'll swap, I'll cook while you scrub yourself down."

"I haven't a change of clothes."

"Well, I hope you'll find another way to make yourself presentable, then." Y'shtola broke into a suggestive smile, "And mayhaps I will be sampling more than just one sort of meat tonight."

Xiao almost spilled the soy sauce over herself.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #a short scene #wordvomit #y'shtola rhul #xiao longbao #y'shtola x wol

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

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I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint!

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

#Shepherds of Haven #group #group dynamic #all characters #found family #drinking #cw: alcohol #drunk #shenanigans #party #parties #long #long post

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ficninja · 3 years

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A Beautiful Night Indeed

So I did a thing...

I wrote a Penelope and Colin fic! I haven't written anything in so long that I seriously surprised myself. I just couldn't help it, I've become so obsessed with them. I wanted to post it here for anyone interested in reading. It's an extended scene I guess, a wish fulfillment if you will, of what I wanted to happen after their dance at the Vauxhall Ball in episode 01 "Diamond of the first water."

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Summary: Colin is protective of Penelope after Cressida spills her drink on her. Colin doesn't want to let go of Penelope's hand after their dance. Colin is confused about his feelings and Anthony calls him out on it. Colin wants more than anything for Penelope to trust him

A Beautiful Night Indeed

It was a beautiful night. Penelope had arrived to the Vauxhall ball a half an hour early with her Father and sisters. They were just in time to see the lighting of all the torches surrounding the expansive gardens right as the Sun began to hang low in the ever darkening sky…

Standing near the orchestra dining area, watching the dancing begin, Penelope looked around avoiding being spotted by one of her sisters. She was surprised when she heard Colin say her pet name.

“Pen…” Colin approached Penelope. He never had trouble finding her in a crowd. He was constantly captivated by her stunning red hair. Her hair beckoned him like a glowing fire, his eyes always drawn to the beauty of the permanent sunset. She was standing alone expectantly, he surmised she was looking for someone.

“Colin…” Penelope sighed adorably which made him smile to himself. She had the cutest voice, he had always thought so.

“I did not know you would be here.” Penelope was pleasantly surprised to see him. His height towering as he walked closer, making her feel small and delicate by comparison.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Colin teased, causing her to smile. She was never able to resist this pull he had on her.

“Have you seen Miss Thompson?” He inquired. Miss Thompson had many suitors and Colin supposed he should try to get to know Penelope’s cousin a bit more, lest his interest wane.

“She is ill.” Penelope informed him, a bit dispassionately, her smile faltering. “My mamá had to stay home with her.” She continued. “Papá had to chaperone.”

Colin looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Featherington enjoying a refreshment and in an animated discussion, completely unobservant of his youngest daughter.

Colin turned back to Penelope giving her his complete attention, the inquiry into her cousin’s whereabouts fleeting. He did not like that she was vulnerable without her Father’s gaze on her.

“I’m quite enjoying the fact that he is here.” Penelope’s smile picked back up and Colin recalled that she enjoyed spending time with her father… away from her neglectful mother.

Mrs. Featherington should be there as well, Colin thought to himself. This was Penelope’s debut season. What mother, wouldn’t accompany a daughter as sweet and innocent as Penelope everywhere?

“Mamá would never allow me to wear a dress like this.” Penelope’s smile brightened the darkened garden even more. “Not yellow enough, I think.” She giggled self-deprecatingly.

Colin had taken note of how especially lovely Penelope looked that night. Although it was hard for Penelope to look bad, given her cute face and enchanting hair, her mother seemed to be trying to detract from her looks with every yellow frock she forced on her. He would acknowledge that according to Eloise having a nice face and pleasant hair should not be considered an accomplishment. But given the lack of genteel stock in Penelope’s lineage, it was indeed a glowing accomplishment in contrast to her older sisters, at least according to Colin’s preferences.

Before Colin could genuinely compliment Penelope’s dress, Cressida Cowper appeared and interrupted their conversation. Accompanied by her entourage of ninnies, they pushed between he and Penelope.

“Mr. Bridgerton...” Cressida’s voice really grated on Colin’s nerves. “I believe you owe me a dance this evening. And I only have one more space remaining on my card at present.”

“How convenient.” Penelope observed, her words so softly spoken that Colin almost… almost didn’t hear her. But her tremulous voice carried over to Colin. It was like a melody… a song only for him in contrast to Cressida’s.

Cressida thrust her dance card out to her side and simultaneously spilled her drink on the front of Penelope’s dress. “Penelope, I did not see you there!” Cressida feigned shock.

Penelope gasped in sheer mortification, turning away from them as the blast of cold liquid slid down her chest. She looked down to check her dress, thanking heaven that the drink was clear and would not stain. Penelope felt heat color her cheeks and her eyes began to water. She was so proud of the way she looked that night and to have this happen to her at Cressida’s hands and in the presence of Colin no less, she thought she would pass out from the humiliation.

Colin glared at Cressida. How dare she attempt to injure Penelope’s person with that drink and right in front of him. He thought to himself, if Cressida was not a Lady and barely one at that… His anger peaked at the mental image of what he would do. His nostrils flared at her before he turned his attention back to Penelope.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper.” Colin’s voice barely remained courteous. “I am to escort Miss Featherington, to the floor.” His decided rejection of Cressida caused Penelope to turn around, astonished.

Penelope’s blue eyes, glossy with embarrassment, met his. Colin had a fierce look on his face. Determined he was, not to allow anyone to mistreat her in his presence. He reached for Penelope's gloved hand, slipping her tiny feminine satin-clad fingers through his larger masculine ones, as he glared once again at Cressida before escorting Penelope away and onto the dance floor.

Colin spun Penelope into position just as the spirited dance started. His fingers glided across the brocade material along her upper back. Her soft tresses skimmed across the back of his hand… This was one of Colin’s favorite dances and he smiled down at her excitedly. Penelope was an amazing partner. The embarrassment caused by Cressida eased from her eyes and she matched his enthusiam for the dance. The eager smile on her face as he spun her around caused an ache to invade inside his chest. The protectiveness he felt moments ago seemed to increase ten fold and everything inside of him wanted that smile to remain on her face for the rest of her life.

When the dance ended, Colin found himself irrationally thinking of a reason to keep Penelope's hand in his. An illogical impulse, given it would be improper since he was not officially courting her. The reminder to himself, that he was not in fact courting Penelope Featherington, but had expressed an interest in her distant cousin caused him to be inexplicably confused and annoyed with himself. The annoyance he felt was upsetting to him and he clenched his jaw in vexation. Just as he was about to convince himself to let her go, the announcement began…

“Ladies and Gentleman, a most extraordinary event is about to take place.

Right this way!

Come! Come!”

Colin looked down at Penelope just as she gazed her startled blue eyes up at him. Just looking in her eyes soothed away his baffling aggravation. He smiled at her mischievously as he pulled her along side him continuing to hold her hand. Definitely not letting go of her now.

Penelope was delighted that Colin wanted to continue their time together at the ball. The way he looked at her during their dance… she knew it was just a result of his protective nature. She believed he was genuinely outraged by Cressida’s behavior toward her. But his continued attention made her heart soar, even more than usual, just from being around him. A sort of magic seemed to envelop them, almost as if Colin was finally seeing her as a woman and not like a little sister. Penelope worried that the let down from reality settling around her again would break her heart irreparably.

“Come along, Pen. We must not miss this most extraordinary event!” Colin continued to grin at her as he pulled Penelope along.

Colin spotted an open section near the edge of the crowd and stopped there. It was a bit darker there, secluded away from the torches, and he couldn’t make out everyone around them. He tugged Penelope a bit closer in front of him as more people surrounded them.

He noticed that she trembled a bit, so he leaned down near her ear. “Are you ok, Pen?”

Penelope was looking forward to the show, whatever this would be, but she had never been quite comfortable with the dark or with surprises.

Penelope felt Colin squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. His blue eyes warm with concern. “Yes, I’m ok. It is just a bit scary is all.”

Colin smiled at her then and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything will be ok. I’m right here. I would not let anything bad happen to you.” And she knew, she could feel that Colin meant it.

“Do you trust me, Pen?” He asked, holding her gaze fervently.

Looking into his eyes so close to hers was intoxicating and Penelope began to feel a little unsteady on her feet. She swayed a little as she answered him. “Y- Yes, o-of course I trust you, Colin.”

Colin noticed that she stuttered a bit, but she seemed to get her bearings.

“Good.” Penelope’s assurance that she trusted him, did something to his insides and Colin felt unbalanced.

The announcement picked up again…

“It is with great privilege I present Vauxhall’s newest spectacle of illumination. Feast your eyes above and allow all that is radiant to overwhelm you!”

Penelope squeezed Colin’s hand just as the lights illuminated all at once above them. They were surrounded by the glass bulbs! The brilliance was magnificent. The sudden amazement caused Penelope to step back into Colin. His chest cradled her head and his other hand, that wasn’t holding hers, grabbed her waist to steady her.

The MC continued,

“Wonderful Light! Thank you!”

“Its alright.” Colin murmured softly into her hair. She smelled like orange blossoms. Colin could not keep himself from breathing her in. He wondered if it was just her hair or if she smelled of the fragrant flower all over her body. The hand holding her waist moved unconsciously to the ends of her rosy hair, his fingers delicately caressed the softness of her strawberry locks. Colin’s mind was muddled, he closed his eyes in contentment, memorizing the texture of her hair. He couldn’t think straight. He had to stop himself from dropping a kiss to the top of her head, the need to be a comfort to her began to outweigh his reason.

Penelope thought she imagined Colin’s fingers in her hair. The closeness of his body to hers was heady… She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the warmth of him behind her. She inhaled at the pleasure of her current situation. She’d never been this close to Colin. The electrifying heat of his body pressed against hers was causing her to be incoherent. She began to breathe in shallow pants, her breaths coming quickly. Unsettled by her reaction to him, she moved away from him, letting go of his hand.

Colin felt the immediate loss of the warmth radiating from Penelope’s body pressed along his front. When she dropped his hand and moved away from him, he felt the grimace on his face and heard the growl in his throat. Desperate to have Penelope near again, he grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.

“Pen…” Colin spoke her name, not knowing what else to say, but also needing to stop her retreat from him.

Penelope looked down at her hand grasped in Colin’s, realizing that her glove had slipped off. “Oh…” was all she could say. The moment felt unmistakably intimate, him holding her hand again, this time bare.

“I’m sorry.” Colin apologized when he realized he’d unintentionally removed Penelope’s satin glove. “Allow me…” He bent down and retrieved her glove from the grass, her bare hand remained cradled in his the entire time.

His expression mischievous again, as he rose to his full height. “I guess I’m to keep it as a favour now.” Colin teased Penelope. He needed to take away the self-consciousness he saw in her eyes.

“Are you going off to battle then?” Penelope teased Colin back, unable to resist his ever present charm. She could think of no other time a lady’s favour was given.

“Well, there seems to be a fight for refreshments. And as a Gentleman, I will gladly enter the fray to procure something to drink for you, Pen.” Colin folded Penelope’s glove and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket finally letting her hand go reluctantly.

Colin looked down at Penelope adoringly. He couldn’t help himself, stepping closer to her, he whispered. “Wish me luck in battle?”

Penelope knew Colin was teasing her again, but he made her breathless. “Good luck.” She smiled and then she bit her bottom lip. “Promise me that you will return it me?” She looked pointedly to his chest where her glove rested inside his pocket.

Colin could only focus on the lushness of her mouth as she bit her full bottom lip, he was beginning to feel dizzy like he was spinning… spinning out of control. “You trust me, don’t you, Penelope?”

“Of course, Colin.” Penelope didn’t recognize her own voice. The huskiness of it, she couldn’t control as Colin inched even closer to her.

Colin bent down, next to her ear and whispered. “Good girl. Stay right here for me. I’ll be back.” He leaned in close enough that he smelled her intoxicating hair once more before he pulled himself away from Penelope and then walked toward the refreshments.

As Penelope watched as Colin walked away, his tall regal form a feast for her eyes, she noticed his brother Anthony walk up to him.

Colin was taking deep breaths to regain his composure as he walked away from Penelope. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Anthony with a stern expression on his face. He followed Anthony’s gaze to Penelope.

“She’s so young Colin… you need to try harder to conceal your… baser interests. Stop touching her so much. Don’t forget yourself. Penelope is a proper lady.” Anthony scolded Colin.

“I was not… I did not… for you to imply…” Colin couldn’t even form a sentence in his defense as twisted as his insides felt by his brother’s insinuations.

“Imply?” Anthony continued. “I saw. Your hand on her waist, apart from dancing. Your hand in her hair. The caress of her bare hand… and this could have been in the view of half the Ton. It is a wonder her father did not come looking for her and witness these improprieties or I would be making arrangements for you to court Penelope Featherington properly!" Anthony’s eyebrows raised in admonishment. “… and not expressing interest in her distant cousin.” The distorted expression on Anthony’s face spoke to how he felt about Colin’s fleeting interest in Miss Thompson.

“It will be a miracle if this is not in Whistledown tomorrow and I am not forced to have to make an offer on your behalf myself.” Anthony continued to reprimand Colin.

“Anthony, I would never do anything to scandalize Penelope!” Colin declared passionately. He could not even conceive of hurting her that way. He found that the thought of Anthony having to make an offer for Penelope’s hand on his behalf did not scare him and that lack of apprehension caused him uncertainty.

“I know that you would not, Colin. And I am not suggesting that you are. I am saying that your feelings... unacknowledged... for Penelope are maybe getting in the way of your… sensibilities where she is concerned.” Anthony pointed out.

“My feelings… for Penelope?” Colin was so confused. Penelope was his friend. He had not meant to be improper with her in any way. But he had begun to acknowledge in his mind and body that Penelope was becoming a woman… in every way. His reactions to her may very well be putting her in danger from him.

“Yes, Colin. I have eyes. I see you clear as day. You may not be ready to admit to or are even aware of how you feel about her. You do have feelings for her, not just emotionally, but now physically as well and you need to think about what you really want long term. Penelope has… developed a lush womanly form. Her curves are tempting to you, I see. Miss Thompson may be more mature and more able to handle your… physical interests right now, where as you would have to wait a while for Penelope to be ready for that.”

“Stop! Stop right now, Anthony. Speaking about Penelope in this way is improper and I will not engage with you any further on this.” Colin found his fists were balled up and his anger, at his brother was a tangible thing in his mouth… a vileness that he could taste. Anthony’s criticism of how he had handled Penelope and even more his comments on how her body had developed the curves of a woman, the kind of woman that Colin realized he was irresistibly drawn to, would be his undoing.

“See, you did not even mention Miss Thompson. Your irascible temper with regard to any perceived slight of Penelope…” Anthony spoke to Colin’s unexpressed feelings for Penelope, again. “All of that emotion… that is about Penelope Featherington.”

Colin clenched his jaw tightly and rolled his eyes at the truth of his brother’s perceptions. He balled his fists against his side as well.

“I am not telling you what to do, so do not look at me like that. I am merely pointing out that if you keep carrying on like this over Penelope and you keep finding yourself behaving in the manner in which you have tonight, you will not be in a position to make a decision. It will have been made for you. Does she not deserve for you to truly choose her? And loathe that I am of a match between you and Miss Thompson, I do not want you to have to contend with hurting her either.”

Colin took a deep breath before addressing his brother again. “Penelope is dear to me… so dear that I - I treasure her and our friendship. I would never hurt her intentionally, brother. That is all I’m willing to say on the matter. I do not wish to discuss Penelope with you any further here like she is the topic of some common gossip. I shall escort her back to her father, after the fireworks are over. Colin declared and then walked off, feeling immensely frustrated.

“See that you do, Colin.” Anthony called after him as Colin disappeared.

Colin turned from the refreshment table and spotted Penelope immediately again. His eyes seeking her siren hair. She had remained just as he had asked her to. A good girl for him she was indeed.

When Colin finally returned to her with refreshments, Penelope’s bright expectant blue eyes found his troubled ones.

“Is everything ok, Colin?” Penelope asked softly. “I saw you speaking with your brother…”

Colin smiled at her slightly as she drank her lemonade. He could not help it. She was so sweet, the most kind-hearted person he had ever known aside from his mother. Her concern mollified him. His anxiousness over his conversation with Anthony slipped away easily in her presence.

“Penelope, your dress is lovely tonight. I wanted to tell you that before Cressida showed up.” Colin could not help it, even after being cautioned by Anthony of being improper with her, he inched closer to her and took her bare hand in his again.

“Thank you, Colin.” Penelope sighed. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers made her breathless again. It felt almost as if Colin did not realize what he was doing.

“May I ask, how it came to be this rather fetching shade of pink and not yellow?” Colin teased her again. His eyes sparkling at her. They now looked the exact opposite of when he arrived with their drinks.

“Well, I was allowed to choose the color for myself, rather than mamá.” Penelope admitted. Her cheeks brightened to a beautiful shade of pink.

“You did well, Pen. It looks exquisite against your sun-fire hair and makes your porcelain skin look like the finest silk…” Colin looked down at her feeling inebriated, his voice betraying his ardor. His stomach flipped when he noticed her licking her pink lips before she spoke his name on a melodic sigh, again.

“Colin…” Penelope couldn’t believe he had actually described her that way… passionately… his voice filled with longing.

Colin raised Penelope’s hand to his lips, just as the music started for the next dance. He kissed the back of her fingers of her bare hand and Penelope was startled at the softness of his lips on her. She did not know what to say… She could not form words. All the breath had left her.

“One more dance, Pen? Before the night is over.” Colin requested. His eyes never leaving hers and her hand securely grasped in his. He didn’t have an excuse for his continued behavior with her and he found he didn’t care to continue to contemplate.

“I’ve never danced this one… in public.” Penelope admitted. She was so unnerved by Colin’s continued attention she would have agreed to anything at that point.

Colin smiled down at her, playfully. “Do you trust me, Pen?”

“Of course, Colin.” She assured him again on a sigh. “But this one is… what if I miss a step?” She was doubting herself and her ability to actually move after Colin’s kiss on her fingers.

“Penelope Featherington, you are an amazing dancer. You will be fine. He pulled her closer to the dance floor, but waited for her acquiescence. Colin looked her over as if he couldn’t bear for her to refuse him. "Please do me the honor?”

“Yes, Colin.” She smiled brightly at him. Her smile more luminescent than the globes of artificial light, her eyes sparkled more than the fireworks display. She even rivaled the stars that night as he spun her around and around on the dance floor.

It was a beautiful night indeed.

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naralanis · 3 years

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little bumps in the road (pt. 26)

Previously, on LBitR...

Lena has never given much thought to what happens after death.

She’s heard all about feeling cold—she’s felt that cold, more than once. She’s heard all about darkness—which she has seen, but not exactly in a near-death context. She’s also heard all about the light.

She does see that—not exactly a light she has to follow or whatever it is people see when they die, but a blinding expanse of white, as far as her eyes can see, though a little fuzzy, darker around the edges of her vision.

Considering the way she went out, Lena’s very surprised she doesn’t see any green.

Green. Kryptonite.

Kara.

Something that feels like a sob wrenches itself out of her chest by force. That dumb, stupid, idiotic Kryptonian—if Lena’s dead, then Kara is for sure—how dare she—

“Lena?”

The voice is familiar, and close; physically close, something that Lena didn’t think was possibly in this ethereal, post-death realm. Lena turns her head and realizes that, despite the brightness of the light she’s seeing, her eyes are most definitely closed.

Huh.

She opens them, then blinks, because the only difference seems to be… a lot of fuzzy shapes.

“Lena?” the voice calls to her again, closer still.

“Eugh…” is Lena’s less-than-eloquent reply. She could have done worse; her throat constricts painfully around something, and it’s like she’s pulling air the wrong way in, which causes a coughing fit that rattles her to the bone.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK, take your time,” the voice continues, and Lena knows that voice, but right now her brain feels like actual Jell-O sloshing around in her skull, and her entire body lights up with pain, so it’s understandably taking her a little while to get her bearings.

She blinks the crust out of her eyes; the speaking blob at her side begins to take shape and look like a person.

“Lena, don’t worry. You’re alright, you’re at the DEO. You’re hurt, but we could take the implant out—there will be an adjustment period, but you’re alright.” The voice explains, and Lena finally, finally places it.

“Agh… ah—ugh… L-lex?” she tries; her tongue feels like a wad of cotton in her mouth, and her throat is just burning.

The voice grows soothing. “We got him, Lena, don’t worry, we got—”

Lena shakes her head, which is a terrible decision—there is s sharp jolt of pain that shoots down her temple and settles all the way at the base of her spine; it makes her clench her teeth, which in turn just worsens the throbbing in her head.

She attempts to raise a hand; that fails when another painful shock travels from her shoulder across her collarbones. Lena groans in frustration, she needs to ger her words out, but it’s like her entire body has decided to call it quits.

Finally, she manages.

“Ah-Alex… Alex?”

The figure releases a breathless little laugh, and a reassuring hand comes to rest very gently at Lena’s shoulder.

“It’s me, Lena. I’m alright, you’re alright. Rest now, OK? Your meds will be kicking in again any time.”

Lena is equal parts relieved and panicked; there’s the obvious relief that comes with the knowledge that Alex is fine and right here next to her. But the agent doesn’t say a word about her sister, and that fills Lena with a dread she cannot express in her condition; especially now, as her lids grow heavier by the second, as her body sinks into an undoubtedly double-padded mattress.

“K—K..agh…” she tries, needing to know that Kara is alright, that she’s alive, because if Lena made it, Kara has to be alive. The alternative is unthinkable.

She manages another unintelligible gurgle before the meds do kick in, and then she’s out like a light.

Lena dreams.

This time, she does see green—a lot of it as the entire space of her LuthorCorp office is awash in the glow of the fully-armed Kryptonite cannons, and when Supergirl—Kara—lowers herself onto her balcony, Lena realizes this is not a dream at all.

It’s a memory.

She watches Kara raise her arms in surrender, sees the crinkle of confusion on her brow as the Kryptonian stares at her as if she’s seeing someone else entirely.

Lena watches her fall once she’s hit by what was meant to be a lethal dose of Kryptonite.

The memory shifts.

They’re in the Jeep, this time. It’s the dead of night and Kara’s in the driver’s seat, hair cropped short—Christ, Lena had forgotten just how short it was during those first couple of weeks. Kara’s driving, but she’s not looking at the road—no, in this snippet of reality, she’s staring straight at Lena, her gaunt, pale complexion fixated on her passenger. She looks perplexed, but also, inexplicably, relieved.

The memories keep shifting—they’re at the diner where they finally spoke to one another again, then they’re at a gas station, a phone booth, on and on and on—until everything seems to move and merge into a blur of colours, shapes, and sounds. It’s a convoluted, puzzling mental kaleidoscope, but surprisingly, Lena finds it remarkably easy to make sense of it all.

After all, how could she not? These are her memories. She’s lived through it all before.

Lena blinks into awareness slowly, this time. Her dream—or actual trip down memory lane—fades away softly, giving way to the soothing darkness of eyes gently closed for sleep.

There’s warmth at her side, and movement, too. It’s the up-and-down, in-and-out steady rhythm of deep breathing.

Lena instinctively tucks into the warmth and feels it in a solid, unmovable presence on her bed. She blinks once, twice, registers the lower lighting of her room, the tell-tale beeping of hospital equipment…and a very warm Kryptonian, glued to her side, squeezed so tight into the MedBay bed she cannot be comfortable.

Lena shifts—she needs to get a better look, needs to touch, to make sure she’s not dreaming, that her mind (which hasn’t been extremely reliable as of late) isn’t playing a cruel trick on her.

When she moves, blue eyes rimmed by dark circles snap open; they crinkle at the corners with a smile as they meet Lena’s gaze head on, and Lena releases a breath of pure relief.

“Hey,” Kara murmurs, her voice a soft breath ghosting over Lena’s cheeks since they’re only inches apart.

Lena can’t really help it; the tears are running down her cheeks before she realizes she’s crying, and she breathes in through sniffles as she reaches out to touch Kara’s face.

She’s there, inches away, warm and soft, and alive, and Lena lets the sobs rip through her chest. Her breaths are short little stuttering gasps, really, and she can’t stop smiling.

“Hey,” she whispers back, leaning into the warmth of Kara’s touch once the Kryptonian delicately wipes at her tears with her thumb. Her hand stays there, cradling Lena’s face as they smile like idiots after one-too-many near-death experiences.

“I have to admit,” Kara says after some time, smile unwavering and bright despite the pallor of her features, “that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

Lena chuckles—she does so lightly, since her ribs (most likely broken) protest at the slightest movement. “What, crying?” she asks. She can’t really move her arms, or really anything at all, so she settles for slightly craning her neck, leaning further into the hand Kara has kept in place at her tear-stained cheek.

Kara just nods, laughing a little. There’s a warm yellow hue around them—Lena surmises someone probably moved a sunlamp to her bed once Kara invited herself in—and it makes Kara’s hair, growing at awkward, adorable angles, glow golden and beautiful.

Lena soaks it all in.

“Is this real?” she can’t help but ask. She doesn’t think she would survive another trick of the mind, especially one so cruel.

Kara shifts on the thin mattress, impossibly closer, body practically melding along Lena’s. She’s still smiling, and there’s such certainty in her gaze, Lena practically melts with relief before Kara can even reassure her.

“Yes,” Kara says. “I have to admit the details are a little bit fuzzy,” she raises her arm with some difficulty to poke playfully at her own head, “but it seems I uh, ripped the Lexosuit apart and tossed it just before it exploded.”

Lena furrows her brows, trying to remember. All she can recall was the countdown clock and the split-second feeling of weightlessness before she began falling to the earth once the suit powered down.

“And then?”

Kara shrugs—Lena notices how her movements are stilted, like moving pains her, and wonders just how close to dying Kara had been. Again. “As far as I know, J’onn got to you in the nick of time.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “And you?”

Kara looks sheepish. “I uh. Hit the pavement.”

It’s said so… matter-of-factly, so casual and off-hand. It wrenches another sob right out of Lena, and her ribs ache in protest, but all she can think is Kara falling again, crumpling limply onto the pavement again, being on the brink of death again, and she can’t—Lena can’t cope with the image at all.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s OK,” Kara moves in, ready to calm and soothe, wiping at Lena’s tears with both hands. Her lips find Lena’s forehead, and while the gesture is entirely unprecedented, it has the desired effect—Lena’s body instinctively relaxes, and her sobs begin to abate. “I’m here,” Kara says, lips still on Lena’s skin, “Good as new, I promise.”

Lena doesn’t believe that for one second—there’s an unhealthy pallor to Kara’s complexion that tells her she still has a lot of time to spend under the sunlamps, and Lena can tell just how much it hurts for the Kryptonian to move. She bets there are slow-healing bruises all over her skin under the DEO-issue henley and sweats.

Though—she considers as her own body twinges with pains she hasn’t yet had the mental fortitude or will to catalogue in their entirety—she supposes she also has a long way to go as well.

“How long have we been out?”

“A few days,” Kara replies, chin resting atop Lena’s head and showing no inclination of moving. Good. “I just woke up a few hours ago.”

Lena grins. “And then the first thing you did was come to crowd my space while I recovered?”

Kara laughs. “Of course not. I went to pee first.”

It’s worth the twinges in her ribcage to chuckle a little. Lena lets out as deep a sigh as her injuries will allow, and her breathing adjusts to follow the steady rise-and-fall of Kara’s chest, still melded to her side.

“So, what now?”

Kara’s sigh is deep, and when she speaks, her voice grows heavier with sleep by the word. She’s probably exhausted and just about ready to conk out.

Lena thinks she’s got the right idea.

“Well,” the Kryptonian murmurs, voice so soft Lena has to strain to hear over the faint hum of hospital machinery surrounding them. “Nia caught Lex—gave him a good ol’ trashing, from what I hear. Uh, your name’s been cleared. LuthorCorp is yours, or will be after Lex’s trial—again. Supergirl is alive and back, sort of. Kara Danvers, meanwhile, is due to return from a mysterious illness… or something, I’m not sure what lie Nia made up at CatCo. Oh, and…”

Lena nods, barely processing Kara’s words. She’s just sinking into warmth, and Kara’s rambling in earnest now, and it feels so familiar. Comfortable, even here, cramped in this tiny MedBay cot.

Especially here.

Lena tucks further into Kara’s neck, and that stops Kara’s talking just enough for her to get a word in edgewise. “OK,” she whispers against Kara’s skin. “But for now… we just rest?”

She feels Kara’s slight nod, and Lena’s smile stretches wider while her eyes grow heavier. “Together?”

Another nod. Another whisper. “Together.”

<<<Previous||

That’s it! It’s done! Oof! Thank you all for humouring me in this wild, bumpy ride. All chapters (plus an epilogue!) will be posted on my AO3 within the next few days.

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anoutlandishfanfic · 3 years

Text

Metamorphosis Chapter 29: With The Dawn

Woohoo!! We’re on the home stretch!!

Huge thanks to @walkinginland for her beta skillz and cheering me on.

You can find previous chapters here on Tumblr or over here at AO3.

Jamie. Some time later, well past midnight; February 22nd, 1744

Having assembled what I could, I propped Claire up more comfortably against the solid, wooden wall. I’d wrapped any spare clothing in her cloak — making one large, lumpy pillow — and Murtagh had found a bundle of raw wool as he’d escorted the crew back to their proper places. This was used as is and the result enabled her to remain reclined, even through successive contractions.

“Ye’re sae verra braw, mo nighean donn,” I murmured hoarsely.

Claire rolled her eyes heavenward in response, her head shaking slowly. The last pain had taken almost more than she’d had to give and left her completely spent.

I shifted to hover over her, taking my time and kissing her on the lips. She’d sought this gesture, time and time again in her pain and I eagerly offered myself to her.

Claire’s hand lifted, slipping her arm around my neck in order to keep me close, even after we came up for air. Her eyes had slid shut and she kept them that way as she whispered, “That was a long one.”

I groaned, nudging her nose with mine.

“And they’re getting much closer,” she added, the palm of her other hand skimming along the curve of her abdomen. “Things… are going in the right direction, I think.”

I moved my hand to match hers, trying to pick out the curve of one bairn from the next as she’d shown me.

“The first bairn ye mean?” I mused out loud. “Or jus’ the way of things?”

Her brow furrowed as her gaze latched onto something that wasn’t there, turning inwards as her hand slipped tentatively between her legs.

“I meant that my contractions are gaining strength instead of backing off… they could still stall, I suppose… they did for Jenny for a bit,” she surmised, harkening back to the one and only birth she’d witnessed.

“I guess… I don’t know about the baby,” her brows nearly became one as her internal concentration deepened, her hand gently cupping the place where our child would soon be making their appearance. “But I think he’s the right way.”

The right way.

I immediately regretted asking the question as I remembered there was, in fact, a wrong way. Jenny’s bairn had been born that way and Claire had assured me that they could be born feet first, but I felt all the blood drain from my face as I realized for the first time that something could indeed go wrong.

“Jamie,” Claire’s voice, soft and sweet, brought me around and I found her looking up at me with complete understanding.

“A Dhia, Sorcha,” I wheezed, taking her face in my hands. I bowed my head, pressing my brow to hers as I begged, “Forgive me?”

I heard her sigh, felt her deft fingers slip into the curls at the back of my neck.

“Always.”

…

Two Hours Later: Nearly Dawn.

Something had changed within my wife between the last pain and this one.

She had to be close.

Did I dare look?

Claire’s shift wasn’t intentionally keeping her modest — the ships’ men had long gone and my godfather with them, leaving just the two of us in the cabin — but the hem of it had fallen between her spread knees and obscured any accidental viewing of the area in question.

Would she be discouraged if there wasn’t anything to see yet?

Having not lost her touch of accurately reading my mind — even in the midst of her travail — my wife burst in frustration, “Oh for Christ’s sake, Jamie! Just look and get it over with!”

With this, she unceremoniously pulled aside her shift and I was met with a view that I instantly regretted seeking.

I caught myself just in time and swallowed the exclamation that nearly left my lips at the sight of her condition. Offering up a prayer and crossing myself instead, I patted Claire’s leg in reassurance.

“What do you see?”

A dhia, Sorcha, I groaned both inwardly and outwardly, ask me anything but that.

Her hand moved, covering mine on her leg for a brief moment and giving it a squeeze before closing in on the area in question. She caught her breath and winced as her fingers first encountered the bulge between her legs, but then calmed somewhat as she slowly, gingerly took stock of the situation.

“His head,” her whisper was barely audible but the wonder and awe in her voice was palpable.

“Aye,” I swallowed hard. “He’s almost here.”

She nodded, her hand moving away as a cloud crossed once more over her face.

Here we go.

Her heels began to dig into the mattress, her feet slipping as she fought to gain traction against the tide that pulled her this way and that.

“Here, mo chridhe,” I patted against my legs. “Try pushin’ ‘gainst me.”

She nodded, shifting until it was comfortable, and I watched in delight as it seemed to work almost immediately.

Now with a solid anchor in her arsenal, she dove headlong into the wave of her contraction. It was as swift and mighty as all the others, but she now was able to curl forward with this one, using my leverage to her advantage as she followed the call of her body.

Her moaning intonations changed as her face turned from red to white and back again — one thing now obvious.

My son would soon be here.

Claire began to push with all her might, fighting in earnest to bring forth our firstborn child. Again and again the urge came upon her, each contraction asking more and more of her.

“Well done, mo chridhe!” I praised her after a particularly rough bout, close on the heels of the one before. “Verra well done!”

She shook her head against the pillows, tired and dejected, “I just want him here… I want to be done… I just want to hold my baby, Jamie!!”

“Aye,” I crooned — not making the mistake of adding I ken to that statement.

I’d done it once early on and I wouldn’t do so again.

“Give me your hand,” I coaxed and offered up my own. She gave it freely, trembling with fatigue, and I slowly brought it back between her legs.

The small spot of brilliant auburn had grown with every contraction, the form of a now very obvious head on display for any and all to see.

“He’s almost here… he’ll be in your arms soon, aye?”

Claire’s eyes slid shut as her hand once more cupped the curve of our baby’s head. It had given her great peace to feel him earlier and I mentally praised myself for thinking of it.

Anything to help her along.

“Ye’re sae verra braw, mo nighean donn… an’ he’s helpin’ ye, aye?” I suggested. “He’s listenin’ to ye… to yer heart as ye guide him here… why do ye no’ talk to him too, hmm? Let him hear yer voice.”

Her lips began to move at once — silently at first, almost as if in prayer — but then her words grew louder and more urgent as she coaxed our child into the world.

“Come along, then, baby,” she crooned.

Her words hitched as another contraction besieged her, twisting from coddling to direct orders.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Fucking Christ,” she spat, “get out!”

I watched helplessly as she battled with all her might, unable to do anything but pick up the petitions to our child and run with them.

“Alright, ye wee fiend,” I chided under my breath, “time to be makin’ yer grand entrance, aye?”

My head snapped up as Claire’s intonations changed, my gut clenching as she began to hiss violently through her teeth.

“Easy, mo chridhe… slow an’ steady.”

It was only a few moments more and with a mighty shout that our child’s head was born.

“Well done, Sorcha!!” The praise rolling off my tongue in Gaelic. The relief of seeing her tired smile as she sagged against the homemade pillows spurred me on and I echoed, this time in English, “Verra well done, mo chridhe!!”

Her hand was back, softly inquisitive and her voice echoing the rapturous touch, “What does he look like?”

A dhia, the questions ye ask, Sassenach.

I coughed, trying to make light of a rather grizzly sight, “Well, I wouldna say he’s well pleased with his view of the world just now.”

Her laugh was cut short as the final pain came upon her, taking everything she had left to give. The baby’s shoulders moved ever so slightly and with a whoosh my child slipped into the world.

Lifting him gently — for he was, unmistakably, a him — I eased my son onto the cloth that lay ready and waiting for this purpose.

“Oh God, Claire,” I swallowed hard, tears rushing to the back of my eyes and lodging a lump in my throat as I patted my firstborn son dry, “he’s so wee.”

… Claire.

He.

My heart skipped a beat, leaping right out of my chest and soaring high above my head before it fell back into place and clattered on again, the room spinning slightly as I breathlessly asked, “He’s a boy, then?”

A lusty, clear cry pierced the air in answer and I heard Jamie chuckle softly as he scuttled sideways, maneuvering a thrashing bundle just within my reach but as far as the cord would allow.

If only just a little closer...

“Aye, mo nighean donn,” his voice cracked as he announced, “we have a bonnie son.”

“Oh, baby!” I gushed as my hand traveled over him: ensuring his nose and mouth were clear — eliciting an even mightier wail of dissatisfaction from my son — before registering all ten fingers, skimming over his chest and down legs to count all ten toes.

He was here and he was whole.

This accomplished, my hand moved back to cup his flushed face, which was screwed up tight in a red-blooded fury, letting us know in no uncertain terms just what he thought about the present state of his affairs.

“Jamie,” my brow furrowed, my thumb stroking my son’s cheek, “His cord… please? I need to hold him.”

A determined look crossed over my husband’s face and he turned away at once to find the small drawstring bag we’d set aside for this purpose. I didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at the comedy that unfolded before me as he rummaged around for it in the gathering light, finding it less than an arm’s length from his original position.

He opened it and withdrew the looped thread, but then sat staring at me blankly.

“Here,” I motioned him forward.

He’d gotten us through the labyrinth blindfolded and on his own — I could guide us to the finish line, so to speak.

“Tie this one here… and that one there… Tighter… good.”

I nodded in praise, but noticed he’d balked again at the sight of the small, sharpened blade I’d packed.

“He won’t feel it,” I promised, taking hold of Jamie’s hand and squeezing it tight. “It won’t hurt him.”

He swallowed hard, but set his jaw and severed the cord as well as any midwife could under the circumstances.

“Please,” I croaked, finding my own throat tight as the tether between me and my baby was broken, “Please, Jamie... I need him.”

This was accomplished without ceremony and Jamie thrust our squalling infant without delay into my arms.

He calmed nearly the instant he hit my skin, seeming to know just who I was as I clutched him tightly against my chest.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” I sighed, my hand gently cupping the curve of his tiny head. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

Jamie moved closer, wiping his hands, his eyes deep pools of emotion. This gave way to shock and then melted into a reverent awe as he softly exclaimed, “Ach, look, Sorcha… he’s got his wee eyes open!”

I shifted the baby in my arms, cradling his head in the crook of my elbow and gave a soft laugh to find my son scowling furiously up at me… with brilliant blue eyes.

“Yes, I suppose I’d have to agree,” I commented dryly on the whole affair. “Wasn’t much fun, mmm?”

His little fists beat the air — somewhere in the fuzzy back recesses of my brain I remembered that was a good sign — and I took hold of one, wrapping his long fingers around one of mine. He gripped me tightly and I felt tears spring into my eyes.

I felt Jamie’s arms slip around me, supporting me — holding the both of us close.

“He has your eyes,” I murmured hoarsely. Hot tears rolled freely down my cheeks as my thumb stroked the tiny hand holding mine, “And your fingers.”

He wiped them gently away, turning my face towards him for just a moment and giving me the most tender of kisses.

“Mebbe so,” he commented with a slow smile, “but he’s got your lungs, Sassenach.”

... Jamie.

“Is he hungry, do you think?”

Claire was exhausted, her body sagging heavily against my chest, but her voice held an excited energy that, while I understood, astounded me.

She tried to position the bairn at her breast, but trembled so, and I quickly positioned my hand under hers. He rooted fiercely around for her nipple, his mouth as wide as a wee sparrow begging for his supper. With my arms there to help support him in place, her free hand slipped out and helped guide him, nudging herself against his upper lip.

He turned his face and, after a few gummed misfires, seemed to find the way of things.

Claire winced, firmly setting her jaw, but I saw the surge of joy and wonder wash over her face just the same. She relaxed slightly as he settled in with alacrity, sighing as her thumb stroked his cheek.

“Brian,” she murmured softly, as if testing the name out for the first time, then repeated it with more sureness, “His name is Brian.”

Overcome, I ducked my head, burying my face in her neck.

Can you see him, Da? Do you see my son?

“He’s got your red hair too,” I heard her continue, barely audible.

Brian… mo ghille beag… mo mhac ruadh.

I placed a kiss just behind her ear before lifting my head and she sighed again, turning her face towards me. Her eyes were wet, but joyous, her lips parting as she lifted her chin to kiss me in earnest.

Thank you, my soul reached out to hers. Thank you, my love, for our son.

She stiffened suddenly, her jaw dropping and brow furrowing as she pulled her face away. This jostled the bairn, who complained loudly that his dinner had been interrupted, and, had I not a firm grip of them both, would have upended him completely.

“Claire?” I asked hesitantly as I tried to set things back to rights in my arms.

She shook her head, but had regained enough composure to attempt to return the bairn to her breast. I tried to help, clumsily, but we finally succeeded, and I inquired again, a little more urgently, “Sorcha?”

Her free hand slipped to her side, her fingers splaying wide just above her hip and my heart dropped.

It was starting again.

“Aye,” I swallowed hard, nearly choking. “Ye dinna need to say it… I ken.”

She nodded, her hips shifting as she fought to keep still enough for the bairn.

“Do ye want me to take him?” I offered, keeping my voice low.

Shaking her head wildly, she got out, “Needs… to finish… eating.”

I nodded and simply held them close, holding my breath and petitioning Heaven until the contraction eased.

Mary, Michael, and Bride, help us.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the rigidity left her and she sagged once more in my arms, her fingers absently stroking the bairn’s hand.

His wee lips had stopped moving, his eyes now drooping heavily after having his fill.

“Help me move him,” Claire’s voice wobbled as her hand slipped under his head.

My hand covered her own and together we got him reclined on his side against her chest. She sighed heavily, her head tipping backwards against my shoulder as her hand started a rhythmic rubbing and patting along his back.

“What are ye doin’?” I asked in gentle curiosity.

She gave me a tired smile, cracking one eye open.

“You’ve never watched someone burp a baby before?”

“No,” I drew out the word, finding the concept utterly fascinating. “I canna say that I have.”

“Mmm,” remarked and closed her eyes again, but the smile grew.

“Sassenach?”

“Mmm?”

“Why would such a wee bairnie have a need to belch?”

I felt her shoulders begin to shake and her hand stilled, her eyes opening fully to spear me with a look that made my heart turn over and warmed me through, “Jamie stop — I can’t… I can’t laugh, it hurts!”

Rather bemused, I simply nodded and decided to let the matter drop — it certainly was not worth causing her more physical pain than she was already in — but she did finally answer after composing herself.

“When they nurse, they sometimes get air trapped in their bellies… which is painful for them and sometimes makes them spit up what they’ve eaten,” she patiently explained, though the grin was still firmly in place. “If you pat their backs, the air has to leave and they burp…”

Understanding dawned and I lamely commented, “Ah, I see.”

A sort of sighing hiccup left Brian a few moments later, eliciting an enthusiastic praise from his mother, “Good job, darling!”

I blinked down at the two of them, realizing this was the intended result of the massage.

“Tha’ was it?” I commented blandly. “Yer da’s goin’ t’have to teach ye a thing or two about this burpin’ business, fear beag.”

… Not five minutes later.

“Wait,” I froze, trying to focus on the movement of the ship around us, “Christ, I think we’ve made harbor!”

Easing myself out from behind Claire, who looked up at me in startled amazement, I strode over to the cabin’s bank of windows. The sun was beginning to break its way in patches through the dissipating storm, illuminating the fact that we had, in fact, slowed and were being towed to anchor in an unfamiliar port.

A joyous shout left my lips and I nearly flew back to my wife’s side.

“We’re here!” I kissed her soundly.

Her arm looped around my neck, holding me close as she began to tremble from head to toe. I took Brian from her, nestling him securely in the crook of one arm as I gathered her to me with the other. She clung to me with both hands, burying her face in my chest as great, wrenching sobs wracked her body.

“Ach, mo chridhe,” I crooned, my lips brushing against the top of her head. “Murtagh’ll have help for ye here in no time, ye’ll see.”

My arms tightened around her as her tears flowed all the more, “Just a wee bit longer, mo nighean donn… just hold on.”

… Murtagh.

I didn’t wait for the gangplank, but leapt over the rail and landed on the pier amid shouts and calls for caution.

The lot of ye be damned, I grumbled to myself, shoving past moldy French sailors, and the hell if ye’ll keep me from my duty.

But where would I find a midwife in such a place as this?

I knew enough of the language to see me by, though it near sickened me to use it, but the tongue on its own wouldn’t be the trick of it… How would I locate someone trained for my task in a harbor teaming with male sailors, merchants, and fisherfolk?

The market.

The thought lit a fire beneath my boots and had me crashing through the crowded pier towards the raucous calls of the fisher-women selling their wares.

One of them was bound to be a mother.

Nearly reaching the swarm of baskets and rows of booths, I began my supplication in French at the top of my lungs, “Help!! I need a midwife — a mother!! Someone please help me!!”

Over and over I repeated the request, grabbing hold of women’s arms, only to be shaken off and refused time and time again.

I was ready to simply take hold of the next woman I saw, throw her over my shoulder, and drag her back to the boat, when a short, frail looking woman stopped what she was doing and actually considered my request.

“Your wife?” She squinted at me, measuring me up.

“Please, madam �� she’s my daughter,” I begged in French, stumbling over the words in an effort to get them out as fast as I could.

“We’ve just arrived and there’s no one to help her… Please! You must help me!”

“I’ll come,” she nodded to her companion and charged towards the quay, shouting over her shoulder, “Show me the way, we mustn’t waste any time.”

She was surprisingly spry for someone her age and we recovered ground at a remarkable speed. A glance over my shoulder found the woman’s companion — presumably her kin — who smiled reassuringly at me. I nodded politely in return, then helped the two of them down to the pier.

A few turns later had us at the base of the gangplank and I hastily followed them up, but discovered they’d made it across the deck and were opening the door to the cabin in the time it took me to board the ship.

“Christ, they’re speedy wee fiends,” I cursed under my breath and took off at a dead run.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #metamorphosis au #metamorphosis ch29 #with the dawn #chapter 29

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qyllenhaal · 3 years

Text

God’s Face in the Fire || Part 2

Dark!Lee Bodecker x Dark!Reader

Summary: A wife who would do anything to give her husband the world, even if it means getting herself involved with his trouble.

Word Count: 10.3k

Chapter warnings: dark themes!!! contains mentions of murder, non-graphic death scenes, smut (loss of virginity in a flashback scene), manipulation, brief mention of sexual assaults, misogyny, uncomfortable situations. Please heed the warnings!!! 18+ only

A/N: It's been forever since I posted. The last two weeks have left me discombobulated that it was hard to find time to sit down to write and edit this, but I'm glad I got to it! The next part is going to be the last part but I have plans to do one-shots for this universe. I'm going to be posting a Senator!Chris fic tomorrow so stay tuned for that.

Enjoy!

"You remember when I took you out for milkshakes and you spilled yours all over me? You were wearing that exact same color," Lee said pointing at the dress she was pressing.

"All those years ago, and you still remember that?" Y/n wanted to drown in this tender moment she's having with her husband. Hearing him laugh, his stomach shifting, and his eyes wrinkling.

"How could I? Watching you get all flustered and cute really got me goin’. It's when I knew I was gonna marry ya."

The days have been incredibly warm and beautiful since Y/n had done what she did. It was cruel irony that she was enjoying another day while someone’s body was rotting. The softer moments of life were few and far between these days, but right now she’s offered her a wonderful distraction.

She had taken on more tasks than usual to distract herself from the intrusive thoughts she had. She even accepted a last minute invite to help put on an event at the local rental hall with some of the other mothers in town. It gave her an excuse to look nice and show herself off to anyone who had some doubts about Lee. Things were looking good for him, but there was always something to do to further rehabilitate his image. She always looked her best as the sheriff's wife. Keeping up the appearances exhausted her since they have become more frequent for her. However if she wanted the people to fawn over her lovely family, she had to show up. An arts and crafts event for the kids is also a good chance to get their daughter out of the house.

Teenage Y/n did not see herself becoming a housewife so young. It was unsavory to think about being a homemaker for one of the boys’ at school. She surmised that she would’ve stuck by her original plan if she had not been so lonely. All of Y/n's friends left within a year of graduating high school. She didn't have that many friends to begin with, but she thought that at least one would always be there for her. Rose went to college, and Barbara found a man to marry and moved to upstate New York. Only one stayed for some time, Judith, but she eventually left after having a shotgun wedding. It was selfish of her to think that someone would stay just because she got rejected from the only college she had applied to. Other people had lives and Y/n was just not at the center of them.

The absence of her friends made her pregnancy more lonely. Her baby shower consisted of her family, Lee’s sister, and his co-workers and their wives. None of the women seemed to be fond of Y/n. It always plagued her mind to know if they thought she was too young and stupid or if it was just something else

She found solace in some of the other mother's in town. When she began showing up around to volunteer at bake sales and food drives she expected them to look at her face and then down at her belly and reject her. She is younger than them and feared they'd find her naïve. She had kept to herself for so long that she thought they'd write her off as the sheriff's meek wife.

Y/n didn't get a chance to mingle with anyone prior to her marriage and Lee made it harder by insisting in little ways that she stay in the house. No one was at fault that Lee wanted to keep her to himself. It was possible he did it out of insecurity, but Y/n now speculates that it was because he didn’t want to hear or even see what he may have been doing.

One of the ladies who Y/n only knew by her dark hair and distinct, pointy nose joked that Lee had, "finally let Rapunzel out of the castle." When the other mothers joined into laughter, she felt small. It was only a harmless joke that was steeped in the truth. It took her persistence to no longer wanting to feel alone while being pregnant to get the women to warm up to her, and the did.

"I remember spilling the milkshake, but I was too embarrassed to remember anything else about that night," she admitted.

Lee remembers that night very well. He wishes that she didn't end the night so quickly because she ruined a pair of trousers that could easily be replaced. He had only bought them to impress her, but it didn't take much to get her to swoon over him. No other man was giving her the time of day.

"We should go out to that diner Friday night. Now that we have someone to watch the little one, we don't have to stop by your parents to drop her off anymore. I can just scoop you up and we can have a night together," Lee pressed himself into Y/n's backside. She giggled when his hands lightly danced against her ticklish sides.

Lee had also been aware of the slim moments of intimacy with his wife. He was serious about this race but he truly underestimated how much time and effort he'd have to put into this. But people really did love the old mayor. The only slight Lee had against him was his old age and how some believed that if he kept going then he might run into some health problems. The rumors about him becoming more and more forgetful were minute compared to the dark gossip swirling about Lee though. Some of the people in town would probably vote for a paper bag before Lee.

His biggest fear is that he loses the election and drives his wife away. He could lose the race, but if his wife somehow slipped away, taking their baby with her, he’d drink himself into a stupor. Lee tried his very best to hide his insecurities from her. When he worried, she worried too and it made it much harder for him to plan his way out of whatever hole he is in when he has a hysterical wife to deal with. That's why he'd rather not tell her anything.

Lee also wasn't the young man in his prime anymore, he believed that his good looks were fading, and he has gained a considerable amount of weight. The fear of Y/n just up and leaving him for someone younger than him and riding off to the city always plagued him. The birth of their daughter should've assuaged him, but his self-doubt always lingered like a cloud that made him stick to his vices.

"I've really missed ya honey...missed this body of yours."

Y/n flinched when his hands ran down the front of her body, over her stomach and then circling up back to her breast. Her body has changed considerably since giving birth and the hormonal imbalance left her feeling tired, sad, and alone. Her mother told her that all she had to do was look at her child and she'd feel better, but every time she looked at her little girl all she did was worry. Was she a good mom? Why was her daughter crying so much without much working? Was Lee staying at work for long hours to avoid the crying and her? Did he still find her attractive?

They’re both too busy thinking Lee's mayoral bid to realize they felt the exact same way as each other. If there was any other time that proved they were an extension of each other, it was now, but they were too blind to see it.

"Lee y-you're going to be late for work," her voice was weakened by his lips now nipping at her neck.

"Don't give a damn," he whispered against her skin, inhaling her familiar scent, "just wanna feel my wife."

Today, Y/n felt herself slipping back into her normal self and normal life. She melted into Lee, hoping that maybe they could have a moment to themselves, but they were interrupted by the phone ringing downstairs. Every early morning and late night phone call had her on edge. They never seemed to be about anything important but it hasn't failed yet to make her stomach churn.

Lee groaned and pulled away from her. She watched him disappear to go answer the phone.

It has been nearly two days and the only thing on her mind is what happened after she left that brothel. The anxiety made her feel sick. Hours later after it happened, around 2 a.m., she woke up and darted to the toilet. Lee kept asking her if she was pregnant as he held her hair back while her face was in the toilet. She dismissed his claims, knowing full and well that she was just sickened by her actions.

Lee had not mentioned a death or anything related to that brothel, so had he even been found? Was his death even reported? The girls who worked for him were probably too worried about their own arrest than the death of their abusive boss.

She wiped the look of worry off of her face when she heard his heavy footsteps coming back up the stairs.

"Who was it?"

"Your brother," his tone held disgust, "invited us to dinner on Sunday. He asked to speak to you but I told him you were still sleep."

"Lee!"

"I don't want to hear it," his voice boomed, much more dominant and rough than hers, "I ain't having dinner with him and I don't want to hear your mouth about it."

Y/n stayed silent and watched him grab the police hat resting on the dresser. She hated for him to leave on such a sour note, but she wouldn't dare say anything in fear she might make things worse.

He started towards the door of their bedroom before turning back to his wife, "Sandy supposed to stop by Saturday. I don't know why, so don't ask, but she claims she's comin'. Who knows if she'll stick to her word."

It’s like Lee did that on purpose, as some sort of sick payback for her brother calling. Y/n was not fond of Sandy and did not like to be around her for more than ten minutes. Sandy was a nice girl, a bit unsavory at times, but her husband Carl was a stain on her life. There was something about him that reminded her of the men her mother had warned her about when she was a young teenager; a man with a slick tongue and a creepy air around him. However, she found Carl much more sinister than that. The look in Carl's eyes when he looked at her and flashed her that unsettling smile was imprinted into her brain. They did not come around much, but when they did it was always a traumatic experience for Y/n.

Lee left the room before Y/n could respond. He knows how Y/n feels, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. She’s not going to protest against it because she knows better than that. He focused on the sound of soft babbling from his daughter as he walked into her room.

"Hey you," she looked up at him with her big eyes and her widening smile that made his heart swell, "you gonna be good for your mama? You've been on a mean streak lately and I'd hate to make good on my threat and put you in baby jail."

His daughter reached up and tried to grab at his face. Lee was clean-shaven now, but for the first few months of his daughter's life he had enough hair on his face for her to grab a hold of. It was funny to see how she still tried to grab at his non-existent hair, pinching his skin in the process.

"Miss the beard little lady? You're just like your mama," he kissed her forehead and felt a deep sense of guilt that he had to leave her to go to work. But everything he did was for her and if he believes that the long hours are going to pay off. All of his work is going to pay off when he wins that race.

The dress her daughter wore was blush to complement her mother's golden one. She looked around at every single building and person they passed as if it was her first time seeing it again. Her sense of wonder always made Y/n adore her even more. Y/n wondered what was going on in the little mind of her and what sense she made of the world.

She was never fussy when they were out, which was good for Y/n, but also good for the rehabilitation of Lee's image. He has such a good daughter and pretty wife, he must be doing something right. Every single person who stopped to say hi or coo at how cute her baby was, Y/n wondered if they have ever said something negative about Lee. Y/n never received weird stares or grimaces that would make her paranoid, but she still felt on edge. She always wanted to be on her best behavior, especially when Lee was not with her.

Y/n was forced to be her normal self; cheerful even though her mind was reeling over two nights ago, her sister-in-law, and what the conversation between Lee and her brother this morning may have sounded like. When one of the toddlers thrusted their drawing her face she feigned an excited smile. She hoped the mother's didn't notice her lackluster attitude.

"Y/n , can I speak with you?"

It was Sally's voice that called to her. She looked at the blonde woman with a bit of panic on her face. She thought that she was going to get chewed out by her, especially since she pulled her far away from the other children, and her daughter who was being held by one of the recently graduated girls.

"Is everything alright Sally?"

"I should be asking you that. Why am I hear things about Mrs. Blackwater sayin' she seen your Lee dumpin' bodies in the river behind her house?" At that moment Y/n could not hear her despite her lips still moving. Her blood ran cold at that last name being mentioned. It's been years, close to a decade, since she thought about that old woman, but the mere mention of her name brought Y/n back to a place she didn't want to be.

"I-I...I don't know what she's talking about-"

"My husband and I made a sizable donation to your husband's campaign, and it would be a shame to see him lose," the sugary voice and fake smile on Sally's face made Y/n's stomach ache. She didn't like how some of these women could be so fake because it always made her question if they really liked her or not. But Sally didn't care what Y/n would respond with, all she cared about was her and her husband's reputation, "you're not that much younger than me so you remember them days when that old bitch would be on her porch spewin’ whatever nonsense she could think if at any girl who walked on her sidewalk. No one likes Mrs. Blackwater, but don't think for a second they won't consider what she has to say about that husband of yours. I've heard too many whispers about him and I don't like it. I'll pull my endorsements if you don't fix this shit."

Was murdering one person not enough to save her husband from losing this race? The brothel owner was one person, someone who would not be missed by many people, but could she do something about Mrs. Blackwater?

'That's not right, that's not right.'

No matter how much she tried to shake that evil idea off, it kept creeping into her mind. Murder was the unlikely tool she had in her arsenal all along. It was morally wrong to kill someone, but her victim and the potential one had not been nice people. Mrs. Blackwater's stain on this Earth paled in comparison to Reed's, but that woman made her blood run much colder than the brothel owner.

It was so ironic that Mr. Blackwater was a beloved man in town because no one could stand his wife. They knew not to cross her path and that pies and home cooked meals would not abate her disdain for people. A man who was so kind and friendly was married to the most antisocial person Y/n has ever come across. But he never wasted a moment to sing her her praises. Y/n remembers one of her sons and he was mean just like his mother; a school yard bully that would beat up on anyone he saw as weak and alone. Y/n was lucky that he knew she had an older brother to protect because the Blackwater’s youngest boy never tried anything with her. However, she was not lucky enough to escape the wrath of Mrs. Blackwater. The irony was that she probably would've been better off being a victim of her son. That woman was nasty and wasn't afraid to show it.

"Don't you two get tired of dressing like whores?"

They had to pass the Blackwater house to get to Rose's house. Her house used to be at the end of the street before it got burned down, leaving the Blackwater house the last one on the street. It was nice, and had a big, big porch that Mrs. Blackwater always sat on for most of the day. She didn't stop at calling them just "whores'' and "wenches" either. Y/n never could understand why they always took the brunt of that woman's anger. Rose went home in tears every time she walked by that house. Maybe Y/n's anger is displaced, but she blames Mrs. Blackwater for why Rose was so eager to leave. There wasn't much here, but Rose always promised she'd stay. But ever since they encountered Mrs. Blackwater's misery, Rose had changed.

She could imagine that same venomous voice saying awful things about her husband, "Lee Bodecker put that body in the water. I saw it with my own two eyes!"

The thought of her husband killing someone shouldn't sound so crazy, especially after being able to do it herself. But her Lee can't be a cold-hearted man who slept with whores, murdered people, and ruined people lives. He was so sweet to her, he wasn't always was, but his touch was so soft against her skin, how could he hurt anyone?

Y/n had just turned 19 when she met Lee. He was a deputy, closer to being the sheriff than either of them knew at the time. Their age difference scared her somewhat; she only gave him a chance so she could distract herself from reminding herself that she should be finishing up the last year of being a college freshman. She had the grades and thought her test scores were satisfactory but she got rejected from Indiana University. Her father told her that there is always next year, but her mother told her she should just figure out a new plan.

It was the uncertainty and loneliness that made her get closer to Lee. He was close to his late 20s, unmarried, and he didn't exactly make his loneliness unknown.

He left a sour taste in her mouth in their very first encounter; pulling her over as an excuse to get her number. She gripped the steering wheel to stop them from shaking so much. She only had her license for a few weeks and made sure to be careful in fear of this exact situation happening. His slick talk didn't make her feel that much better either. She was too shaken up to even look at him in the eye or take in any of his features. She just remembered seeing his badge the words DEPUTY SHERIFF etched into it.

Lee let her off, saying she had a "pretty face" and that he hoped to see her around. She didn't think much about their interaction the days after he pulled her over, but she began to see him more than before. Y/n couldn't remember a time she had seen him prior to that one night and found it odd that his face kept reappearing. (He later told her that it was fate, but it was not. Lee purposefully put himself in her orbit. It was not hard to learn what her routine was and when she went out.)

She was weary about his advances, unsure how to react to them because the most experience she's had was with two boys, only one of whom she kissed. Their first date was not by choice either, he just decided to stick by her side while she was at the local dinner by herself.

And he has always stuck by since then, always hovering around her until she realized he was not going to go away and it’d be futile to ignore him. Lee never gave her the chance to make the decision for herself, but his girl was so sweet and she just needed a few cushy words for her to understand that this was where she belonged.

"Do your parents know you're out here meeting me?" It had only been a matter of time before she learned to be very obedient to him; always accepting his plans, even if it meant sneaking out of the house in the midnight hour. The smirk he wore on his face every time he watched her walk up to him left her feeling enchanted.

"Don't talk too loud. If my brother hears you he'll kill you and have my head."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her front to him. Lee groaned at the feel of her breast against his chest. She was so nervous to do anything with him that she only let him kiss her. It was fine for a while, but he had grown tired of waiting. Tired of being teased by her in those soft, pink dresses that would ride up whenever she had to bend over even just a little bit. He couldn't believe how naive she was to believe he was always dropping things like a pencil or his wallet on accident; he just wanted to see her bend over for him just for a chance to peak at what pretty panties she wore that day.

Getting her to come out with him at night was surprising, but the idea of riding in his patrol car was so alluring. The sparkle in her eyes gave him an overwhelming sense of machismo; enough for him to realize he just needs to take what she wants.

The full moon hung in the clear sky and they had a vast, open field in front of them. He took her just to the edge of the county that was secluded and was his favorite spot to go for some quiet (or getting his dick sucked). The moonlight and a few street lights that were actually working were the only light they had.

"You look so pretty today baby," his hand rested on her thigh the whole entire drive but only now did he actually move it to stroke her skin, "you always look so pretty for me. I'm the luckiest man in town."

Y/n giggled and her face felt like it was burning up. No one had taken the time to compliment her sweetly, and that was obvious to Lee. He cradled her face in the palm of his hand and watched her turn into putty. His hand inches closer to her heat causing her to jump like his hand was made of actual fire.

"Relax baby...just relax for me," Lee planted his face in her neck and nipped at it. His lips tickled the skin on her neck and she did her best to suppress her giggles but they spilled from her lips. Lee smirked against her skin, "there she is. There's my girl."

She let a laugh slip through, but she suppressed the moan that was stuck in her throat. It was so odd to feel him on her neck but it was an unfamiliar feeling that she liked. His hand never left her thigh, in fact he had sneakily moved it closer to her sex. She felt ashamed about the growing wetness that she could feel sticking to her.

Lee grabbed her hand and placed it right over the bulge straining in his pants. She let out a heavy sigh when she realized what it was. "That's how hard you make me. You making me so fucking hard girl," he growled in her ears. This was something only the senior girls from her high school could dream about when they talked about hooking up with their boyfriends. None of them were even half the man Lee was, and here he was: hard and ready just for her.

"L-Lee," her voice broke into bits, her body overheating from Lee taking control, "wait, can we slow down?"

"You taste so sweet baby," he continued kissing her, ignoring her until she was pulling away from his grasp. "What's wrong girl?" The furrowing of his brow made her worry that she pissed him off. Lee was all she had, he convinced her to put away her dream of going to college and stay here for him, if she ran him off then she'd have nothing else.

"I'm just nervous. I’ve never done this before Lee," she hoped her honesty went a long way and would make him take her home instead. But all it did was make him readjust himself in his seat and pull away from her rather coldly.

Lee was irritated with her, she got him all hard, but he did his best to temper his anger. She's lucky that he was on the job all day and didn't have a chance to drink yet or else she'd see the side of him that he purposely hid from her.

"Don't be nervous baby. You know I love you right?" She nodded her head with her wide eyes holding a sad look in them, "good girl. Let me show you something."

Lee patted his lap and Y/n looked at him with apprehension.

"C'mon now," he patted his lap once again, this time with a bit of impatience in his voice.

Y/n awkwardly shifted over the center console of his patrol car and found herself in his lap. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder. She tried to ignore how his bulge poked at her slit through her cotton panties.

"You ever been in a car this nice before?"

"Uh-uh," she shook her head, somewhat distracted by the beautiful interior and his cock poking at her. The only car she's ever drove was the shitty one that was passed down to her. Lee's patrol car doesn't look like it's more than five years old.

Seeing her look in wonder at the dash made him even harder. He began to rut against her, trying to feel as much friction as he could, but it wasn't enough to satiate a man who has been waiting a few months for this.

He sat back and started fumbling with his pants. Y/n heard the sound of the metal on his belt and unzipping of his pants but she froze on top of him instead of moving. She grabbed the steering wheel and held onto it as tight as she did the night he first laid eyes on her. Her alarm rose when Lee lifted her up a little to push her panties to the side.

"Lee what are you doing-"

"Shhh baby don't worry, I got you."

The sensation of his head poking at her slit and her sliding down him was unspeakable. She was uncomfortable with his splitting size, but he didn't move her at all, trying to give her some time to adjust but it was just so hard for him to restrain himself. She was so tight and warm, and definitely untouched by any man. "Fuck," he mumbled warmly in her ear. She felt him wrap his arm tighter around her, almost as if he was afraid she was going to somehow run away from him. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't know her way back home and she'd be stuck out here. She was safe with Lee even though she found herself feeling more confusion than pleasure.

Those girls from her high school days had to been lying to her, sex didn’t feel all that magical; his patrol car was not a romantic place to lose her virginity. Lee rocked her on his cock slowly as she tried to find the same pleasure that he was experiencing. His heavy breath was on her ear as she stared straight up into the night sky.

"You feel so good. You feel so fucking good baby."

His pleasure is what made her want to stay on top of him like this. She cared for him so much and she just wanted Lee to be proud of her. The "good girl" that continuously spilled from his lips sounded like a hymn she wanted to memorize.

Y/n let Lee have his way with her body. He groped her breast through her dress and then let his hands graze her sides. She wondered what he was doing when his hand slipped into her panties, but the warmth that shot through her made her mind go blank. Lee rubbed at her sensitive bud and she constricted around him. Instead of whimpering, she was now fully moaning; the way it felt so good had put her discomfort into the back of her mind.

"Oh fuck -- move your hips girl. You feel so good."

He rubbed her harder as a reward for swirling her hips against him. She began to bounce on top of him and he no longer had to do the hard work, just lean back and feel her engulfing him in her warmth.

"Lee," she whimpered, unsure of herself, but then she called his name again, "Lee," as if to let him know that he was the one giving her pleasure.

Lee knew he wasn't going to last, not when she was as tight and wet as she was. He can't remember the last time he took someone's virginity, nor when he was this hard. It was clear to him that she had no idea what she was doing by the way she bounced on him without a rhythm. Sometimes she'd stall herself before moving fast again. It didn't irk him, he found it endearing that she was so inexperienced. He was going to have to show her a lot of things and get her to fuck him to his liking.

Y/n gasped when Lee pulled out of her and jerked himself until white liquid was splashing on the back of her panties. She'd have to wash them before her mother saw the stain.

"You did so good baby, taking my cock like a big girl," he placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek, still trying to catch his breath while she shifted on top of him. He put himself away and nudged her towards the empty passenger seat. She was silent the entire time he drove her home. A sense of pride filled her because she had made Lee feel good. The sex itself was too weird to describe as being good, but she liked how she felt inside when he told her she felt good and that she made him cum. That's all she wanted to do was please Lee.

Saturday morning proved to be another beautiful day. It seems as if Summer didn't want to leave just yet even though October was near. There wouldn't be many more opportunities for Lee to make his impressions and sway the last few voters not on his side.

The event had been boring at most, but Sally's words really shook her up. No one in town would deny that Mrs. Blackwater has always been a bitter women, but they also wouldn't necessarily turn the other cheek if she starts going around saying that Lee Bodecker is a murder. Y/n's new problem made her forget about the decaying brothel owner. She doesn't care how mean the whole town thought the old woman was, she wanted her gone.

"You slept in. Did I tire you out last night?" Lee had the same smug smirk on his face that has been imprinted on her brains since their early years together.

Y/n nodded even though it wasn't completely truthful. She slept so hard because she's mentally spent and it was finally catching up with her body. Lee had been too distracted to notice how distant she was last night and how she is still distant now. In his eyes, as long as she was eager to lay under him then everything was fine.

Most mornings started like this: Y/n waking up next to her still tired husband and waiting to hear her daughter crying for her. He trudged out of bed and she heard him beat a path down the hall to the bathroom. There was still no sound of her daughter needing her, giving her some time alone. It was nearly silent except for the faint sound of the shower going. She breathed deeply and found herself feeling serene. Just five minutes without the memory of Sally threatening to pull her and her husband's support taunting her.

"Y/n! Do you not hear her crying?" Lee held a stern look on face, he must have been standing there for a few minutes. His towel was wrapped around his waist, stomach hanging over the soft white cotton, "what's wrong with you girl?"

She shook her head, "nothing Lee. I'm just still a lil' tired."

His face softened at her explanation but he nodded his head towards the door so she could take care of their daughter. Y/n hurried not to upset him for the rest of the day.

Their baby was just fussy and hungry. Her little eyes weren’t that red so she hadn’t been crying for long. “You hungry?” Her daughter somewhat understood what her mother was saying because her eyes went wide. The nightgowns Lee had bought Y/n made it much easier for her to pull herself out of them to feed their girl. She could see her daughter calming down, eyes closing once again. Y/n thought about keeping her daughter with her but she needed to rest in her crib. She placed her down gently as not to disturb and wake her again. At least one person in this family deserves peace.

"Back to sleep?" Lee's voice startled her, but the hand on her hip soothed her. Y/n nodded, never taking her eyes away from her girl. "Precious isn't she? So sweet when she's not fussin' about."

"She only fusses because she's teething, and she misses her father."

"Honey, you know why I'm at work longer than usual. It's for her. It's for you. It's for us. Do you know how much better her life, your life, is going to be better after I win that race?"

"But what if you don't win?"

Y/n rarely questions Lee, not even over small things, so he was confused as to why she was questioning him now. Did his wife not believe in him? She worried a lot, but when he first ran for sheriff, she was not this doubtful.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Lee, I didn't say that. It's just that people been talkin' and -"

"And you believe them? So my own wife doesn't think I'm going to win because a few people can’t got some things wrong?”

Y/n flinched as his voice got louder. The brashness of his voice woke their girl up from her attempt to fall into a deep sleep. Instead of waking up and silently looking around, the first thing that came from her was a cry. It served as a way for Y/n to escape Lee's wrath. She pulled her crying daughter into her arms and held her close to her chest. One glance at Lee's face and she knew he was going to deal with her later. But for now he just sighed and walked out of the nursery.

"Aww don't cry honey. It was just your daddy, okay? He's not mad at you sweetheart. Don't cry...don't cry," Y/n's voice cracked and tears slipped down her face. Her pleas were more for herself than they were her daughter.

Lee's hesitance to address the obvious problems he faces in regards to the election made Y/n feel uneasy. All she wanted was for her husband to just outright say he never did those things, but he never did. And if Y/n has resulted to murder, then she knows deep down that he did some of those things that people allege. There were just things that were too loud to drown out. The business when it came to solving a string of murders that happened a few years ago and people talking about him didn't affect him when he was going for re-election. There was no one else that had a strong enough presence to go against him and the folks in town figured that Lee gets enough done as far as crime goes, even though he could do more.

Y/n should be tired of trying to clean up his mess when he was so short with her. However it is not entirely his fault; he does not know. Maybe one day he'll learn and be grateful for what she has done for him.

Lee just couldn't stop reminding her that Sandy and Carl were coming over. It's almost as if he knew it got under Y/n's skin and used it against her after she hurt his feelings this morning. He's a sensitive one, even though he hides it well from most people, but her moment of vulnerability wasn't meant to hurt him. Though if their conversation had progressed any further, she might have spilled what she did to the brothel owner. She may want to believe Lee would be proud of her, but she cannot be so sure. It's sickening to assume that someone would be proud of a murder. She quickly began to feel dirty after a few minutes with her own thoughts ever since Lee snapped at her.

"Can you clean up? We're going to be having guests soon."

There were just a few baby toys on the floor but it was best not to make things worse with Lee (even though those toys were going to end up in the same place anyway).

Lee stepped outside as Y/n put their daughter in her high chair. Ever since her birth Lee was mindful not to smoke in the house; it was one of the house rules Y/n proposed that he was surprisingly very accepting of. She had taken away most of the things that he used to destress: alcohol, cigarettes, and candies.

She heard the motor of a car and Lee's muffled voice. She knew it was them, but hoped they were just making a short trip over. It's not like Lee likes Carl, and he's constantly complaining about his trouble making sister. Y/n hates that Sandy uses their daughter as an excuse to come over. She wouldn't mind if Sandy came alone, but she hated Carl around her little girl and she's sure Lee feels the same way.

Y/n's mother had gotten their daughter such a stupid gift when she was born. A baby that's not even half a year old yet didn't need a toy that had a million little pieces they could easily choke on, but of course it was her favorite thing to place with. Lee never cleaned up the mess, it was always Y/n who was doing it. She tried her best to pick everything up before they stepped inside but she heard the front door open. She tensed up, but she only heard the heavy footsteps of one person, and god did she hope it was Lee.

"What you doin' down there?"

Her eyes trailed up and Carl was gazing down at her. Words got caught in her throat and she clutched her hand around one of the toy pieces, the edges of it painfully digging into her palm.

"Did I scare you?"

The smirk on her face made her want to shriek. She noted that he didn't call her "darlin'" like he used to. She can only guess what Lee did to him when he "took him out back" after calling her that for a few years.

"Where's my niece?"

Y/n shot up, not caring about the toys still on the floor. She'll be damned if Carl is alone with her daughter for even a second.

Sandy came in with Lee following behind her. He gave Y/n a look of understanding, he too hoped this was going to be a short visit. The sound of Sandy fawning over her niece overtook the room. Their daughter giggled and babbled at her aunt as if she could understand her.

"Y/n go make us some ice tea."

Usually Lee doesn't command her to do things, unless he was stressed or horny. She knew her was the former by the look on his face. He was aggravated and this visit wasn't going to make him feel any better. As Y/n left the room, Sandy sat down on their couch with their daughter in her arms. Carl sat next to them, making the alarm in Lee rise.

"I got you something honey," she pulled out a little doll from her purse. It looked tattered and Lee wondered where she got it from.

"You know she already has enough dollies," Lee joked. It didn't matter to his girl, it was a new toy, "got anything for your brother?"

Sandy eyes him before pulling out a small bag of candy. She tossed it to him and he caught it, "I knew you'd ask for somethin'"

He opened it and instantly popped a sweet cherry candy into his mouth.

"Y/n's not letting me drink since the girl is so young. This is the only thing I got, even though she's on my ass about that too," Lee knew that Sandy wasn't too interested in the ins-and-outs of his everyday life but he gets tired of complaining to his deputies.

"Yea, I bet," she kept a snide comment about her sister-in-law to herself. The box of cigarettes she had calling her name we're going to have to wait. "How's that mayor race going?"

"It's going."

"Heard that whore house owner croaked," Carl's voice carried to the kitchen and Y/n paused, "found in unusual circumstances...chairs pushed up against the door...poisoned. Reckon one of those girls got tired of him holdin' them down-"

"No smoking in the house," Lee interrupted when he noticed Carl reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. Carl laughed as if he wanted to challenge Lee, but his hand went back to resting on the back of the couch.

"Wouldn't want this little darlin' smellin' like a bar."

Anytime Carl spoke at or about her daughter, Y/n wanted to vomit. Carl is not nice. She wonders how twisted Sandy might be to marry someone who is awful to women and has no filter.

There was a cloud of fear over her head when Carl was around. She wishes Lee was more apprehensive but Sandy's his little sister, and he cares for her no matter how much those two causes. Things would be different if Y/n had told Lee about that time Carl pressed himself against and put his hand up the skirt of her dress. His threat would forever bounce off her skull and it only got louder when he was near. "Shut you're fucking mouth or else your husbands gonna see his slut wife bending over for another man." She was five months pregnant and had no way to defend herself. He only groped her, but she always wondered if he would've gone further if Sandy hadn't come in looking for the cooking tongs Lee told her to fetch. Sandy knew something had happened, but she said nothing. Y/n's disdain for her only grew from that day on.

Lee redirected the conversation from what Carl had started to something a bit more asinine. He didn't want to talk about something work-related because he didn't need to be stressed out any further. Reed’s death wasn't another blow to his reputation like Lee thought it would. It was going to be another unsolved murder from the way it was looking though. The people assumed one of the girls did it. The place had been emptied out; it surely looked different from when Lee was last in there. Lee was lucky that Reed was extremely disliked, unlike that preacher Roy who died some years ago. More people said "he had it coming" instead of "why isn't the sheriff doing anything?"

He laughed about it though. When he was alone in the car after leaving the crime scene, he laughed. There was no more worrying about the rumor that Sheriff Lee Bodecker beat one of his girls. When Lee did go to that place, he was never forceful. Lee could be mean towards women at times, but he was never violent.

If Lee was called in on a Sunday morning, then it was very important. He woke Y/n up at 5 am and kissed her out of her confused state to say goodbye. She only slept for another hour after laying her head down back on the pillow.

This morning felt so different.

The morning she woke up knowing her task was to deal with Reed, she was distracted and jumpy. But she had grown so accustomed to her guilt that it's become a comfortable feeling. Mrs. Blackwater was a more personal score to settle. That woman was throwing dirt on Lee's name, but the turmoil she caused her teenage friend would never leave her mind. Y/n had learned how cruel someone could be without physically hurting you. The boys on school grounds were annoying brats, but that woman had a truly awful mouth.

The Petersons’ daughter was over right after church. She had a wide smile on her face, happy that Mrs. Bodecker was giving her another opportunity to make some money.

"She's been a fairly good mood lately," Y/n handed her daughter off to the shorter teenage girl, "she slept through the night for once, but she's still gonna need a nap. Once she starts fussin' put her in her crib. I should be back before Lee."

Y/n wished her well and the Petersons girl wished Y/n a good time running her errands. It was comical to think of this as an errand, even though today she was going to treat it like one.

She was in Lee's nice car again meaning she was going to have to temporarily get rid of it. Y/n put much more effort into this, her haphazard plan to take out Reed could've gone horribly wrong. She spent her time snooping around town when she was out with one of her mom friends. The plan had been simple: park the car at the crowded grocery just two blocks away from the Blackwater house. The house sat at the end of the street, a bit separated from the other row of houses because of the larger amount of land they owned. It wouldn't be a problem to walk to the house seeing as others in this neighborhood do the same thing.

When her mother had made that dress for her to wear to the Spring Formal, Y/n cried, saying she was going to look like a nurse instead of "the prettiest girl in town" like Jim, the guy who asked her to the dance said. A teenage grievance had somehow come in handy almost a decade later. It was under a long coat that was a bit abnormal for this warm day.

Y/n felt sickly confident. That only thing she worried about was Lee cruising through and seeing his car in the parking lot. But the grocery store offered a great cover. The sun was covered by a thick cloud as she walked away from the grocery store and to the old Blackwater house.

That porch still looked the same. It was old and rickety, squeaking as she stepped on it, she's surprised it didn't give it away some years ago. The rocking chair Mrs. Blackwater sat on while terrorizing people was no longer there. At least her days of scaring off the newer generation of kids were over.

Y/n knocked on the door and waited. She had to knock again, and by the third time she wondered if the old lady did the job for her!

"Who is it?" The voice was much more frail, but it was that voice.

"I'm here to help!" The upturn of her voice at the end made her statement sound more like a question.

The locks on the door began to click and Mrs. Blackwater peered at her.

"You're not the one they always send."

"Oh, she's sick today! I'm just filling in for her today!" After two weeks of watching, Y/n learned what days Mrs. Blackwater's nurse came and went. She came everyday but she was absent on Sundays. It's somewhat astounding that Mrs. Blackwater didn't ask about Y/n turning up on a Sunday.

"Ahh whatever," she dismissed, unlocking the screen door, and wheeling backwards in the wheelchair that she had been relegated to a few years ago.

Y/n didn't know what to expect when she stepped inside, but it wasn't too far off from how her parent's house looked; black and white photos littering the walls and stacks of paper that probably could've been thrown away a decade ago. What is different from her parent's home is that this place is an utter mess. The nurse that usually comes to take care of her could at least tidy it up a bit. With how much she hated everything, Y/n would've assumed she hated mess too, but her home says otherwise. This lady was an absolute hoarder.

"Don't bother me," Mrs. Blackwater sniped at her. She wheeled herself next to the couch and glued her eyes to the black and white television screen.

Y/n doesn't know how many hours Mrs. Blackwater spent sitting there and watching The Andy Griffin Show. She didn't laugh when something funny happened, she just sat there still, sometimes grumbling to herself in reaction to what was happening on screen.

The least Y/n could do was tidy up a bit. It would be a kind gesture to leave her to die in a presentable place.

Mrs. Blackwater is not going to die a violent death. She was awful, but she did not deserve the brutality like someone who has done physical harm did. (If she was just a little bit braver, she would've hacked him to death, but the sight of blood makes her ill). Mrs. Blackwater was up in age, nearing her 90s, and it would be time for her to go soon anyway. Y/n dusted around the TV, one of the last things this old woman may see. All the photos of people on the walls were staring at her as she moved about cleaning the dust from the frames. So many people, many dead but most probably alive. Mrs. Blackwater had children and probably grandchildren but no one came to visit her. Her tongue was sharp, but how could no one come and visit their aging mother?

"Stop moving so damn much. Sit down girl."

The venom was still in her voice. It would never go away, at least not until she dies. This woman didn't appreciate anything and enjoyed being miserable. Y/n listened to her like that scared little teenager she used to be. She sat on the couch, a few feet away from Mrs. Blackwater who had not taken her eyes off the TV or moved at all. Y/n was spending time with a woman who was going to die at her hands today. If she's going to die then at least she's going to die doing what she loves; watching her shows and bitching out the closest person in reach.

She had only moved to grab the newspaper from the table on the other side of her. It was Friday's addition, Y/n could tell from the photo on the cover. She couldn't help but eye the old woman as she read the paper. It has been probably three hours and she hasn't even asked for anything to eat.

"People droppin' like flies in this shit hole."

Y/n's ears perked up, but she didn't say anything, she just let the lady talk.

"Leroy should know better not to do that shit here...especially with that corrupt sheriff around...would've had an easier time gettin' away with it in the city. Everyone in the city already does all that illegal shit so it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Now he’s dead."

Y/n had heard that name before. She remembers vividly Lee chewing someone out on the phone and saying their name with contempt. Leroy, Leroy, Leroy. The name "Bobo" also came up in the conversation a few times. Y/n wanted to be mad at Mrs. Blackwater for referring to her husband as "corrupt" but something nagged at her to keep the conversation going for her sake.

"W-what do you mean?" Her voice cracked but it was ignored by the old woman.

"You must not be from here. Everyone knows that if you get caught up with that fat bastard sheriff you must be doin’ some awful shit. The only reason why he keeps gettin' re-elected is because everyone is scared of him. It doesn't matter how many babies that man has, he's a killer...dragging that man's body and fucking up carnations..."

No one had ever talked to Mrs. Bodecker about her husband like this. Town gossipers had the decency to wait until she left the room to say something about him. But she's not Mrs. Bodecker right now. It does not matter anyway because the old lady doesn't know what she's talking about. She hasn't spent the hours with Lee, with him being sweet and so soft with his daughter. Y/n firmly believes that if Lee did indeed kill someone then it was for a good reason. She knows her husband involves himself in dirty things, but it had to be for a good reason. Lee did not show brutality for no reason; he didn't get his rocks off on hurting innocent people.

"People can change. I'm sure he's a different man now."

"Why!? Because he got a bitch and a bastard? You are too naïve...at least the other girl they send has some more sense in her head. No man is going to want to marry a dumb girl."

An awkward silence surrounded them but it was mostly felt by Y/n. She found herself frozen with a ball of rage and anxiety in her stomach. But she had no time to dwell for much longer though.

"I'm thirsty...go make me something."

Y/n noticed Mrs. Blackwater flinching when she grabbed the remote to turn the volume higher. She either had arthritis or just pain in her hands.

"Okay...do you need to take any pills at this time?"

"My husbands gone and my children don't visit me. You think I care about taking my pills?"

Maybe Mrs. Blackwater would be kind to her if she knew Y/n was going to take her out of her misery. Breaking open the capsules and dumping it in the tea she made for her is going to do the job. She might succumb to a heart attack, or pass peacefully. The only person Y/n felt bad for was the poor nurse who was going to find her dead tomorrow morning.

Lee was able to leave his shift earlier than expected. Sundays are very quiet, the only thing he got up to was paperwork at the station. He could go home early to his wife, play with the girl while Y/n makes dinner, and get a nice ride from his wife while their daughter sleeps. Y/n said something about needing him to pick up some chicken stock from the grocery store.

People filled in and out of the grocery store as the sun began to set. A few people spoke to him, never for too long knowing that he's not fond of small talk. But more people being friendly with him was a good sign. Even without his sweet wife next to him, no one shied away from saying hello to the man running for Mayor.

Two boxes of chicken stock should be enough even though his wife sent him for three. The brand she likes isn’t exactly cheap. Lee promptly made his way to the cashier who greeted him with a smile.

"Good evening sheriff!" her voice was sweet and she batted her eyes a few times. Lee offered her a smile, but a small laugh escaped. This girl couldn't be younger than 20 but she fawned over him like a young school girl. Her behavior reminded him of Y/n when she was that age. "Darlene said she saw your car in the parking lot but didn't get a chance to catch Mrs. Bodecker herself."

Lee stopped caring about the items (a few snuck in there for him) being rung up. His brows furrowed and the girl realized that she had said something maybe she shouldn't have.

"My wife was here?"

"That's what Darlene said. Her shift ended right as I was coming in so I wasn't there when it happened...do you still want the chicken stock?"

"Yea yea just ring it up."

Lee's mind was too preoccupied with the weird behavior his wife has been exhibiting for the last several weeks. She often hovered over him when he was on the phone like she was interested in what he was talking about. All the swearing and terms she didn't understand kept her from asking what his loud, and often abrasive, phone conversations were about. But now she was listening a little too hard for his liking.

The only time Y/n was supposed to drive their car is if Lee told her she could or if there was an emergency. A trip to the grocery store did not fall under either of those categories. But it was particularly weird to him that she would go to the store when she told him to go himself. If she had forgotten something, she would have not hesitated to call the station. Something was up with her.

Everything felt normal as he stepped into the house. The smell of what she was cooking hit his nose and the familiar noises of his daughter babbling louder than the Y/n moving around the kitchen. If he had no questions for his wife, then he'd feel all warm inside walking into his home in this current state.

Y/n was talking to their daughter as if she was holding a real conversation with her. Their daughter started squealing when she saw Lee appear in the doorway. He put his index finger to his lips to tell her to quiet herself, but she was only louder.

"I couldn't believe it either! They said the hairdresser purposefully dyed Marie's hair darker," she spoke, thinking her daughter was just squealing because she was talking to her and not because her husband was creeping up behind her.

Hands snaked around her waist and she nearly jumped. "Oh yea? Is that what the town is gossipin' about today?" Lee's familiar voice soothed her and she turned around in his arms. She deftly kissed him and looked up at him.

"Wanna know what else I heard?" He whispered to her. Y/n nodded, a smile spreading on her face as she rested her forehead against his, "heard the sheriff's wife been out and about and driving his nice car."

Y/n's smile fell from her face, but it only made Lee smile wider.

"You wanna tell me what you were doing out?"

"I needed something from the store."

"So my task to pick up the chicken stock after work was for nothing?"

"No...I went to my parents house...didn't want to go empty-handed. You know how my mother gets."

What a sweet little liar.

But she still had the smell of an old house lingering around her so maybe it wasn’t completely a lie. Still, he knew something was up with her.

“How was work?” She quickly tried to change the subject. Lee was not really in the mood to interrogate her, it was Sunday after all. He sat down in the chair next to his daughter's high chair. She started reaching for his hat but he was too far away, so Lee rested his head on the tray and let her have her fun. Y/n was probably going to be mad at him for putting his head where she eats and getting all of his “outside germs” all over it, but he didn’t care.

“I’m tired,” he confessed, a heavy sigh escaping him, “I’m really fucking tired.”

Y/n wishes she could lift more of her husband’s burdens. Killing people who were talking about him did not get rid of the core problem. Sometimes she wishes he never decided to run for mayor. Life was so much more comfortable when he would run unopposed for county sheriff. Instead her husband had a bigger dream. From the very beginning she felt like it was a long shot that this would be successful, but they had gotten so far in changing how most of the people viewed Lee. And even though they felt a way about him, they still respected the sheriff.

“It’s going to be over soon. I promise.”

He truly wanted to believe her, but the sinking feeling that the past was going to catch up with him was not going away.

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker smut #the devil all the time #dark fic #lee bodecker fic #sebastian stan fic

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing.

Word count: 5.2k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up.

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was.

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice.

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.”

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?”

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch.

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.”

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside.

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.”

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best.

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver.

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride.

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.”

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...”

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more.

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more.

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music.

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?”

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.”

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously.

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.”

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution.

“We’ve had a few meetings.”

“Hm.”

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear.

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back.

“Yes. You can call me J.”

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well.

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road.

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too.

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned.

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.”

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.”

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people.

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away.

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

“How do you mean?”

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better.

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...”

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--”

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?”

“Obviously they don’t care.”

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.”

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”

“Fox?”

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.”

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up.

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...”

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince.

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...”

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.”

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?”

“Very observant, your Highness. F?”

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.”

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed.

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.”

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked.

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?”

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.”

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.”

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head.

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.”

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?”

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.”

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you.

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said.

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock.

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?”

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared.

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed.

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.”

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks.

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them.

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.”

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.”

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say.

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?”

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale.

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.”

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??”

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.”

“What?!”

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.”

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!”

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper.

“It was for your saf--”

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--”

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence.

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood.

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck.

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work.

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal.

“What is it Bee?”

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things.

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments.

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.”

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful.

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.”

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed.

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.”

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?”

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.”

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved.

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...”

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person.

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?”

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.”

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.”

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier.

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.”

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.”

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.”

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice.

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--”

“--That you were in love with me?”

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--”

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought.

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.”

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.”

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone.

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.”

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.”

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.”

“I-I don’t.”

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses.

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched.

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.”

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt.

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours.

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?”

“Ch--”

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat.

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut.

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face.

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause.

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight your Highness.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them.

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.”

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side.

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people.

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel.

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action.

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging.

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.”

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.”

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...”

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.”

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?”

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--”

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.”

Both of the men chimed, “You do?”

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.”

“You think?”

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.”

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother.

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.”

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.”

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it.

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.”

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?”

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.”

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--”

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.”

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled.

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?”

The buzzing grew nearer.

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?”

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact.

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--”

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked.

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture.

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying.

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes.

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms.

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.”

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you.

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face.

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you.

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red.

“The car?”

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.”

“We’ll need it.”

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team.

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage.

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood.

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face.

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.”

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming.

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

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sirensmojo · 3 years

Text

"KINDRED",5 - Tommy Shelby x Reader (x Alfie Solomons).

Warnings: Alfie is a warning, mention of abduction, swearing, guns, fluff & slight angst at the end.

Summary: You're an ex war-nurse reconverted as the leader of a feminist organisation. You join forces with the leader of the backstreet Birmingham gang, Thomas Shelby, to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 5K+

AN: Gina's family is totally OC as we know nothing about her in the show / POV alternate between characters' and Y/N's.

*Masterlist*

❰ Previous Chapter

*Margate, Solomons’ residence*

“Alfie!” You exclaimed. You were wearing a white woollen coat with fur around your neck, the same coloured futrzane at the top of your head flattening your finger-waved hair on each part of your face.

Under the woollen coat, you wore a light brown satin dress covering your full body with white high heels. Your look wouldn’t be complete without your blue stones jewellery collection of necklace and earrings. Your golden rings complimented her fingers above one of your white lace gloves.

That was the sound of your heels that made the man turn his head, his mind was elsewhere and he didn’t hear your call.

“Eh, eh, eh. Who that might be, huh, none other than Y/L/N.” He muttered to himself, squinting his eyes looking towards you.

You got closer to him and met with a frowning maid that looked at you with envy at the back of her eyes. You offered her a genuinely warm smile that let your white teeth out, which confused the maid.

“Glad to see you’re still breathing, Captain.” You reached to him.

You were always seemed to be open and all heart with women whereas you were the opposite with men.

“And what you be doing here, love? Thought I left you back in the smoke, innit?”

“Well I’m here Alfie, that war’s done, but there’s another one coming.” Y/N said outright. You stopped in front of him, took off the glove free of rings and passed your fingers through his hair, down to his cheek. Alfie remained silent as Y/N's fingers sprinkled his skin with sparks.

You grabbed his chin between your index and thumb, moving his head to the side, you were examining the damage that has been done to his right eye. “I met him.” You solemnly let out.

He already knew who you were referring to.

“He a fucking bookmaker, what you have with him?” He innocently let out, which made you chuckle a bit as you sat down on the sofa in front of him.

You clicked your tongue before slowly putting back your glove. “I love you, Alfie. There’s no bad blood between us but you know me. So don’t fucking try me.” Your threat was covered with an implied mention of your intertwined past, so you would reason with him with both reason and sentiment.

He grabbed the binoculars laying down next to him and raised it vertically towards the sea. “Fucking birds making noise all day annoying my peace of mind... If our mate didn’t shoot me I’ll be shooting ‘em, you know.”

“He was here before me, so you know he entered politics, Alfred.”

He glanced at you hearing his full name on your lips. No one but you ever called him that, and he had forgotten that habit of yours.

“I mean, he would’ve shot me anyway, right. But aiming right is free, innit?” He looked away. “Even at night, they be fucking screaming, mate. Try sleeping in some fucking screaming box.”

“You have trouble sleeping?” You snapped back, interested, catching the man's attention. He knew exactly what you were referencing to, shared memories about sharing beds during war.

“Not like that.” He got back to looking in his binoculars, choosing not to go on to that path.

“Not like that, huh?” You raised your brows at him, he had opened the gates and shall have what he asked for.

You let your coat fall on your arms, showing your naked shoulders and tilted your head. “We could still work it, like good old times, eh?” You teased the man, your Y/E/C piercing eyes not leaving his face.

Alfie didn’t even look at you. “Where’s your gun, Y/N?” He asked, presenting his palm to you, waiting. “Care to give it here for a sec?”

And without even thinking twice you grabbed your little gun from your shoulder holster under your coat and placed it in Solomon’s hand. You were watching his movements as he cocked the gun and aimed something outside the house you surmised to be the birds he was talking about.

“Thought you’d hand me one of your rifles, mad deceived ‘am now” He followed the targets with the gun without daring to shoot.

“War’s over, Alfie.” You put back on your coat and lit a cig before leaning backwards on the sofa, making yourself comfortable.

“Came in here telling me some war coming, now telling me it’s done…Come on, pick a struggle, love” He grumbled to himself as shifting his position.

“I lied. Actually, the war’s already here, and I have both feet in.” You raised your brows, smoking your cig.

“Me none.”

“Not yet.” You snapped back, getting up. “Look, Alfred. Margate’s not doing you any justice. Get back in business, come back to London.” You encouraged him. “You didn’t welcome me when I set foot in town. Didn’t even kiss me ‘bonjour’ *talking french* (=hello). I need my Captain back.” Your voice lowered on the last part as if you were pouting.

“Did you ever put your palm on one eye, eh? When child, you do that to see if life is any different seen by one eye or the other. You cover one eye with your palm and look fucking far away, yea. I used to do that often, you?” He stops what he was doing to glance at you, that was standing near him.

“No.”

“Well, life’s fucking different. Yeah” He nodded to himself confirming his story. “It really is, one eye doesn't show what you see with the other. I’m fucking blind, now. Can only see one side of life, can’t I?” He turned to you, staring. Under his confusing metaphor, he was talking common sense, and it wasn’t difficult for you to decrypt his code as you knew the character.

What he was saying was simple, the experience with Tommy & the Italians made him insensible to the things that used to interest him before. Business and power weren’t things he cared about now.

You silently nodded before sitting right next to him. You put a palm onto one of your eyes and looked to the sea, searching for the screaming birds. Once you found one, you rushed your hand under your dress, to the inside of your thighs, your hand came out with another gun that you pointed straight forward before shooting.

A bird’s helpless scream was heard before Alfie’s mouth opened. “Damn, woman. You still got this.”

“You just gotta picture what’s behind the black spot, Alfred. You fucking draw the lines in your head, because you’ve seen them. They’re here, somewhere in your mind, you just gotta draw them.” You muttered to his ear and he let out an “Um.” before trying to also shoot a bird.

(...)

When Y/L/N's foot touched the gravels of Small Heath’s ground, each women’s head turned to her as a disturbing silence spread over the crowd. She got out of the car when Lizzie opened her mouth, catching the attention of Polly, “He’s fucking her.” She spat with disgust, her eyes filled with jealousy and fear of losing Thomas once again.

Once a month, the peaky girls joined the reunion of women in Small Heath’s streets. This meeting's purposes were to one, show men that women, too, could gather, and second, to scare the institutions and politics about the numbers of women ready to fight for their rights. It was originally organized by Jessie Eden, a communist & feminist leader, but quickly was taken over by Y/F/N and her organisation.

Deleting the "communist" part of this meeting surely helped women gathered even more as they knew they weren’t directly taking sides in political matters, so the risk of getting arrested was low.

Polly’s eyes went from Lizzie to Y/N, who was shaking hands with some women wearing a soft smile along with a determined gaze. “Saw her once, going out of Tommy's office.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Every woman he be fucking went to his office.” She seemed fed-up, one of her feet angrily taping the ground back and forth.

“What business does Tommy have with a feminist?” Pol’ utterly murmured to herself, frowning. What was her surprise when she recognized the other woman coming out of the car, being none other than Ada.

The Thorne, initially Shelby woman, stood right next to Y/N, her brown hat set down on her finger waved hair. She wore her cream woollen coat with fur on her neck and ends of sleeves with pale rose heels. Her nails were bordeau-painted and complimented the red of her lips.

Polly never thought of Ada being interested in anything but communism, but here her niece was, and the thing that hit the Gray woman the most was that Ada seemed to belong there, talking to women and shamelessly shaking their hands. She wasn’t as reserved and distant as she usually was when around people.

“Let’s get out of here.” Polly started to walk away.

Lizzie frowned, “No reunion today?” She seemed relieved, she will not have to face the blonde woman that troubled her most lately.

“No reunion today.” Pol responded. She didn’t want to learn anything from Ada’s activities by spying, but she’ll surely try to draw it out of her later.

(...)

“You what?”

“Ada, sit.” You motioned to the nearest chair.

After the reunion, they both went to the house you bought for the organisation. It wasn’t big, nor elegant. It was a simple Small Heath’s house reconverted in an office.

If you wanted to stand a chance in changing the traditional standards toward women’s place in society, you needed to expand your organisation. You would put cabinets at each corner of the streets if needed. Women needed to know they stood a chance, they needed to know they weren’t alone in their battle and they needed to know they are protected, and that part, you made sure to honour.

“No, I’m not going to fucking sit. You didn’t talk about abducting somebody’s daughter, Y/N!”

Even if you didn’t have the police in your pocket, Tommy did, and their deal gave you the assurance you'll be able to run your business the way you wanted to. It was always better to have someone else command people to leave you alone than you using your high social status to get what you wanted. This way, if things went bad, it wouldn’t be you that’ll take the blame.

You sighed while raising your brows at Ada’s reaction. You pulled out your cigarette case and lit one that you handed her. Thorne took it and went to sit on the sofa, leaning her back to get comfortable.

“Damn, you’re just like him.” Ada let out, glancing at you who let out a “Huh?” of confusion.

You were intently looking at her as she also seated on the couch in front of you. You ignited yourself a cig and puffed on it, waiting for the other woman to process the information of you abducting Gina Gray.

“It’s like I’m in a meeting with Tommy.” She sighed. “It’s always about business and I can’t read him.”

In other words, you didn’t need Tommy to keep the police away from your activities, you could do it yourself if you wanted to. But taking care of this yourself meant to jeopardize each person in your organisation, and you couldn’t afford to risk it all.

“I saw you leaving the library with one of my women.” You blatantly let out, smoking your cig.

Ada frowned and shifted her position, she was uncomfortable. “She’s interested in communism.” She tried to defend herself as her cheeks reddened.

“I’m not judging you, I’m showing you it’s not always about business.”

“I was talking about you, not me.”

“This organisation is me, Ada, and you’re in it now. I know everything I need to know about it and I do everything I need to do for it.” You leaned towards the brown-haired woman.

In fact, it wasn’t at all about the expensive jewellery, nor the luxurious heels. It was about you having a family you cared about even if your kin weren’t blood-related.

Even if Ada understood what the woman in front of her meant, she couldn’t help but to roll her eyes, she heard this speech many times before, upon her brother’s lips. “Yeah, totally Tommy.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re always avoiding the subject when I talk about him.”

“He’s not my business.”

“Lizzie would argue otherwise.” Ada raised a brow at you, meaning she knew what happened when you and Lizzie first met in Tommy’s office.

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“What is it between my brother and you?” She asked.

“You’re bored, Ada. That’s why you want the details. Get back with that woman you found and spend time together, huh?” You dismissed the Shelby woman. And this time, Ada scoffed because Tommy once told her the exact same thing about her being bored.

You gained composure again and straightened back up, “You with me on that or what?” Your tone suddenly went serious again, and Ada’s expression changed.

“Why do you ask about my opinion, don’t you like giving orders all the time?” Ada teased the Y/E/C eyed woman. Y/L/N liked that about the Shelby sister, she was always pushy without being aware.

“Stop being petty, Ada. You’re more of a thinker rather than a doer.” She dismissed the remarks.

“So why do you want my help in the first place?” Ada pondered, confusion in her eyes. The things Y/N struggled to understand was how Ada didn’t see the potential that resided in her. She would always diminish herself and her power for some reason when Y/L/N thought of her as a force of nature that begged to shine.

“I just need that pettiness and fearlessness of yours. Like a kind of representative.”

“Of you?”

You shook your head. “Representative of the organisation.”

“It’s Michael’s wife and I’m a Shelby, meaning she’s family.”

“You’re a Thorne, Ada. And these fucking people out here don’t give a fuck whose side you’re on. They’ll kill you whenever they get the occasion to. I know you don’t like this, but it’s a Shelby I need on this field.” You were pointing your index at the windows, leaning toward Ada.

“You know Gina's people?” Ada exclaimed, raising her hands in exasperation.

You tilted your head to the side to confirm, your eyes deeply in Shelby’s.

“Am a Thorne or a Shelby on the field?” Ada raised a brow to you.

“Both are strengths.”

(...)

You were sitting at the counter of the Garrison, sharing a drink with Arthur when the doors opened on Tommy. You didn’t see him come your way, but Arthur did. He glanced at his brother and grabbed his own drink before joining people elsewhere ignoring your presence.

You looked at him, frowning, and that’s when you turned around you noticed Tommy’s presence. You rolled your eyes at him. “You like to scare off my dates?” You sat back down, sipping on your drink.

“I like the dress,” Tommy said, ordering a whiskey. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but God knows it was because of the look he gave you while entering the pub that Arthur went away.

“Yeah?” You questioned quite surprised Tommy noticed you weren’t dressed as usual. “It’s different from the suits.” You added, seeing he wasn’t going to pursue the conversation.

The blue-eyed man glanced at Y/N's drink. “You drink rum now?” He grabbed his cigarette case and ignited one before handing it to the woman that gladly took it, a smile on her lips. He lit another one for himself.

“You’re alcoholic enough to tell the difference between whiskey and rum without tasting it?” Your suave voice made him look at you as clenching his jaw at your remark, this was all you would get from him.

“I’ve met with Mr Solomons, I thought it was the least I could do to buy some bottles of his.” Tommy’s eyes that were staring at Y/N's lips went up in a hurry when hearing her confession.

“You did what?” Thomas turned so his body faced the woman, his eyes anchored deeply in hers.

He was never so sure about your intentions, nothing was ever sure with you, whereas it was your feelings or what was in your head. And your unreadable face didn’t help a bit.

“I’m drinking rum, now.” You raised your brows at him, cheerfully.

The warmth your smile ignited in him wasn’t enough to make him forget about what you just said. Tommy’s lids fluttered as he remained silent, blankly looking at you. He was aware you thought of Alfie to run the south, as well as himself, but he didn’t expect you to be so direct and visit Alfie Solomons that fast.

“Stop looking at me like that, Tommy. You knew about Alfred and me.”

A wave of questions flowed through his mind, from the tender tone you worded Solomon’s name to the hidden message behind your words. What did you mean by he and you? Something was screaming at him that your relationship went beyond business at a certain point.

His brows raised. “Alfred, eh?” He scoffed, turning back to the counter, puffing on his cig.

He suddenly remembered the war records, informations hitting him like thunderbolts. You were in the same section. Alfie was the Captain of a battery in the artillery where you were sent. You knew each other.

“I also made him talk about the little arrangement you didn’t tell me about.” You let out dismissively. You weren’t blaming him for not telling you he asked Solomons to send his men to create a riot when Mosley will do his speech, you simply voiced your surprise. You thought he trusted you and were deceived to discover that he, in fact, did not.

A minute that seemed to last centuries passed, and you glanced at him. You were silently smoking as he was deep in his thoughts, not even looking at you.

“Well, it seems I’m not aware, no.” His voice was deep and he coughed before drinking his whiskey, his icy eyes looking straight forward to him.

You squinted your eyes in confusion before realizing he didn’t listen to you, he was still on that Alfred thing.

“You don’t listen to me.” You got up, blankly looking at him.

Tommy feigned not to see you, but when you raised a hand to his that was leading his cup to his mouth, a shiver ran down his spine in anticipation.

Even if he wanted to ignore you or how you made him feel, his body betrayed him.

You tenderly grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm towards you. Your piercing eyes met with his cold ones, as you dangerously neared your face.

Y/N ended up connecting the tip of their nose before slowly teasing his lips with hers. He was looking into your soul hidden in your iris and you were doing the same, you were the same.

You might be using flirt along with charm to get what you wanted from men, but with Thomas, it wasn’t the same. He had the exact same hold on you that you had on him, and both could feel it when in an intimate moment.

Their intimacy wasn’t simply about sex, a hunger due to an innate desire or need, no. It began the minute they would shamelessly dive into the being of the other. When he was undressing your soul with the most usual look.

You ultimately sealed your pleading lips together, considering they stayed apart for too long. Their warm breaths intertwined as both of you forgot everything around you, this moment belonged to no other than you, this instant was yours.

You could pretend you weren’t emotionally involved as long as you wanted when alone. But you couldn’t lie when in front of him. You didn’t feel the need to. You could just be yourself, it was more than enough there, at the mercy of his fingers.

Out of breath you pulled away, you opened your eyes to Tommy’s one looking straight at you again, and that made you laugh. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your rare giggles.

Nothing needed to be said when your eyes were connected, as well as nothing needed explanation when your lips were sealed, you were him and he was you. The urge of feeling your inner worlds collide again, Y/N came kissing him some more, to Tommy’s greatest pleasure.

“I know about using Alfie's men.” You murmured without leaving his lips, and he nodded slightly.

“I knew you would find it one way or another.” He answered. One of his hands went to your back as he was fondling you with his thumb above the fabric, he pulled you closer to him as your fingers were passing over his lips in a tender way.

You hit his chest with your other hand, realizing he wittingly kept his deal with Alfie from you just so you would get a little mad. It was his way of teasing you about the fact you cared.

He was purring under your touch when the doors opened. Polly’s eyes directly dropped on Tommy and the librarian before quickly glancing around the pub, meeting with Arthur’s. They both marked a pause and looked back to the two bill & cooing birds...

It wasn’t Tommy’s type to be that open about his relationship with a woman, but Polly already knew what was in his mind. He was convincing himself it was solemnly business, as with the other women he works with, but she knew he was starting to fall in love without even noticing it.

You both got back to reality and pulled away when Pol walked to you, going back to your respective drinks as if nothing happened. She placed herself in between you two, forcing you to take a step aside.

Tommy coughed, looking into his drink as if there was the most interesting thing in there as Y/N grabbed her things, she then started to walk away. And without even looking back, she passed the Garrison’s door.

Polly was staring at Thomas, her words useless in this situation. He glanced towards her and quickly went back to drinking, he wasn’t going to have that conversation with her.

It was Arthur, coming back to the counter that brought up the previous display between his brother and the librarian, “See Polly, my brother got another singing bird.” He was smiling before encountering Tommy’s eyes telling him to shut up, making his smile fade.

“And what you think it is, Thomas? Business?” Her deep trembling voice made him close his eyes a long time as he sighed. “It is love, Arthur.” She glanced at the man behind the counter. “You’re brother’s in love.” She continued, leaning to Tom, dramatically making him know in what he trapped himself.

He opened back his eyes and firmly dropped his fist on the wooden board in a thud, coughing away her words.

The Peaky Blinders head drank from his drink before quickly glancing to the doors you passed minutes ago, lost in thoughts. And as he was sure to think with his head, Polly knew he was thinking with his heart.

(...)

The man was walking slowly, each of his steps was heavy as the whistling escaping from his lips echoed on the concrete walls.

Ada that was on the other side of the wooden door looked through the window, trying not to overthink this situation. Since her first day as a book counsellor under the management of Y/N's organisation, she was never given major tasks. Rather kept at the very back of everything illegal.

But these past few days, she noticed Y/N was taking her to the important reunions, and Y/N's right hand, Ana, had been ordered to introduce Ada to “the work” as Y/L/N called it.

She didn’t know why it was her that had to meet with Gina’s father as Y/N was the one knowing what she needed from him, but Thorne kept away any negative thoughts, focusing on what needed to be done.

The door opened and a tall man entered. He was wearing a creamy long jacket, beige pants. Under the jacket, Ada glimpsed a shirt topped by a Roman collar similar to the priests’. His arms were crossed in his back.

He was pretty imposing, with large shoulders. Even under the fabrics, his browny chest and body could be seen.

Her gaze went up to his face, encountering his deep hazel coloured eyes staring straight at her. He got little eyes, their corner dropping as if he was sad. But she knew this type of man didn’t feel that emotion. Even if his iris were warm coloured, his gaze was cold, almost as if he wasn’t alive anymore, his eyes didn’t shine, they were glassy.

All those informations made Ada nervously gulp, continuing to examine the man’s face.

He had thick straight brows and he wore his brown curly hair slick on the side, one curl falling down his forehead.

He didn’t close the door behind him and walked to her until he was inches away. “You’re not Y/N.” His deep hoarse voice worded. And his remark made her instantly roll her eyes at him.

“Just sat, already. Can I offer you a drink?” Of course, she wasn’t Y/N, if he knew her, he would know it wasn’t as simple as that to meet with her.

“I don’t drink.” He squinted his eyes.

“Well, I do.” She turned to the counter to pour herself some whiskey and gladly started to sip on it as going to sit down. On his side, the man was walking in the room, stopping himself from time to time to examine the objects and frames he was surrounded by. “Is this your house?” He was fidgeting with a woman’s body paperweight.

“Your daughter doesn’t seem to be delighted by the fact you’re here.” She let facing him head-on.

He turned to her as she was staring at his face fearlessly. He delicately dropped the paperweight and went sitting down in the armchair in front of the brown-haired woman that followed his every move with her gaze.

“How’s your son? Mrs--” He feigned to search for her last name, but Ada knew he wanted her to understand that whoever she might be, he could get to her and her family if he decided to.

Of course, it wasn’t Ada’s house, but everything was made to make him believe so. They put some of her personal photographs with her son along with other personal effects.

“Thorne. Ada Thorne. And my son’s alright.”

This way, he will think he has the advantage over her, and if he wants to try anything, this is this house that will be targeted. But in fact, this house was one of the many business properties Y/L/N owned in the neighbourhood.

“Oh my.” He chuckled, raising his brows. “She got political alliances.” He crossed his legs and leant backwards in the chair, his arms laying on each of the armrests.

“You’re interested in politics Mr Rice?”

The man gave a faint smile hearing she knew about him more than he knew about her.

“Everything’s politics, Mrs Thorne.” He raised his gaze to her. He wasn’t being pushy or aggressive, but the atmosphere around him was heavy. His presence made her uncomfortable, and if she wasn’t a Shelby, she’d be unable to face him and stand the stare.

She nodded to him, thinking he answered right.

“I’m no longer in business, Y/L/N knows that very well. I left my brother in charge, it is him you need to see.” He was choosing his words meticulously, and each sentence he spoke was filled with unsaid things.

Not only was he implying that Y/N might be incompetent cause she picked the wrong guy, but he underlined the fact it was a family business, meaning abducting his daughter, wasn’t the best idea.

For a second, she thought her boss may have committed an error by forcing this Mr Rice to come to England, but she was quick to understand he was trying to destabilize her.

“Did you come all the way from Chicago to tell me I need to address another man? Wouldn't it be more intelligent to tell that in a call? ” She raised a brow, and now she was the best match for this meeting.

The man remained silent as he was smiling again, understanding his strategy will not work with her.

“It’s not about a man, not your brother, not you. It’s about Gina, your daughter, using your own methods to manipulate her husband to take control of something bigger than her, something she couldn’t even manage to take care of if she succeeds at having it. But we both already know, in reality, it’s your brother using her.” She returned him his evil smile before tilting her head. Her words sounded like bombs in the man’s ears. Acknowledging the fact his brother might use Gina for his own needs made Mr Rice gritted his teeth as one of his hands clenched into a fist.

He had been trying to get into her head, manipulating her into believing their actions were useless and that nothing could be done about the plan his daughter and Michael had. But being a Shelby as well as a Thorne, Ada knew how to handle those types of people.

“Well, you saw right through me. I see now why Y/N chose you.” He raised both his hands in admittance of his defeat.

Even if the man in front of her seemed harmless, she didn’t want to stay alone with him any longer. He was peculiar, from the way he was standing to his aura, she knew Gina's father was a weasel. She could read in his eyes he was lurking for the moment she'd let down her guard to get to her.

“Now you will meet with her.” Ada decided it was the end of this interview, surprising herself into taking such a decision. Maybe Y/N wanted her to do something more?

She gasped when getting up, which helped her get her mind clear. She understood her role was to make him realize he wouldn’t escape until they have what they wanted from him.

She went to the table, writing an address, a day and an hour on a piece of tissue paper. She then walked to the bearded man and handed him the fabric.

“Now business can begin…” She paused, keeping him from taking the paper. He glanced at her, sighing. “And leave your shenanigans at the door for this meeting, bring your will to cooperate instead... She way worse than me.”

(...)

*Shelby Company Limited*

Tommy opened the door to his office, he intended to walk towards his desk when hearing a low voice. “Arthur asked whose side I’m on.”

He turned around to a curled up Polly in the chair at the corner of his dark office. She wasn’t facing him, her body was halfway turned, as well as her face, leading her to look at him with side-eyes.

He didn't need to ask her what she was talking about. Since the meeting where Michael offered to run the business family, taking Tommy's place, she was distant, as if thinking about her son's proposal.

Tom surmised tonight was the time she'll give her final answer.

It was raining, the wind violently slapped the windows as well as the raindrops, the outside storm perfectly reflecting the conflictual atmosphere settled between the two. The climate deprived the office of any light, but a shy desk lamp faintly illuminated the place.

He took off his black gloves, throwing them on the table separating them. He then sighed and went sitting on the chair, raising his gaze to her, waiting for her to continue to speak.

“There will be a war, and one of you will die.” Her deep trembling voice along with the lapping of the rain on the windows added to the dramatic atmosphere.

Tommy sighed, he knew she was right. He was, indeed, waiting for a war. “But which one I cannot tell.” Her black eyes were staring straight into Tommy’s blue one.

He let out a “Hum.” surmising she’ll not add anything else. He nodded to himself, “he’s gonna do it anyway.” he continued. It wasn’t a question, this would explain her presence in his office that late in the night.

“Yeah.” She responded.

“You should know, if Aberama takes his side I will kill him.” Tommy said upfront.

She looked down before raising her gaze to him again, “And what about me?” She wasn’t blinking, patiently waiting for the confirmation of Tom’s determination to stop her son.

Tom paused, he was aware she was trying to know his intention and he was debating within himself if he could afford to let her know.

“I’ll do what I have to do, Pol” He dropped his definite sentence, he didn’t move his stare or body a bit. He didn’t need to let her know how determined he was, it was already showing.

“Kill… And kill.” She sang with a low voice, slowly blinking. She seemed tired of this situation, as well as tired of it all.

“It’s the only way to make people listen” He nodded his head to the side as murmuring his words.

Since her near-death experience with the noose, she wasn’t the same Polly that he knew. She was only a mere shadow to the person she once was. But this time she seemed truly fed-up.

The thunder was rumbling outside when she got up with slow movements. The sound of her high heels nearing him mixed with the sound of the rain racing down the windows.

She grabbed an envelope as well as her drink. “Soon, you will have a stage to stand on. Millions of people will listen to you. And you will run the country like you run this family.” Her head was held high.

She was looking down on Tommy.

He knitted his brows, holding the stare even if he had to raise his head to meet her. “It appears to be what people want.” He nodded to himself, trying to convince him, or her of what he was saying.

“But not me.”

He blinked.

“Not anymore.”

He blinked again.

“My resignation.” She concluded while dropping the envelope on the table before him. She also put down the empty cup and looked at him some more before turning her back at him and walk toward the exit.

He stared at the empty space in front of him where the woman used to stand prior as he heard her steps receding. Tommy inhales deeply before sighing, dropping his head forward. Her words hit him as bullets would’ve. She was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind. Polly had always been more to him than what he ever showed, and the fact she let him down now did hurt him.

Tommy grabbed his gun from his shoulder holster under his suit jacket and looked at it while exhaling. He moved his hand, turning the gun on both sides, looking at it as looking at a let-out.

Nothing would stop him from founder now. He could embrace his demons and play how he wanted.

Following Chapter ❱

#tommy shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

Her Monster

Prompt: Nighttime | AO3 link here. Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

The next time Sasuke went back to Konoha, Sakura greeted him at the gate. She was armed with her usual cheery grin and a bouquet of daffodils for him. He welcomed her presence like the breath of fresh spring air after a harsh winter.

He didn’t stay long however. He just had to physically report to the council of elders, and by afternoon, he was back to the gates, wondering how he will say goodbye to her this time. But she was already there with her rucksack bag, a determined look on her eyes, and an expression that didn’t take no for an answer. Maybe he was in need of company after all, not that he disliked it. Her presence was warm and reminded him of home.

He never minded her conversations – it was a cherished addition to his monotonous days. Somehow, he started to saw countless lives of the villagers through her eyes, as if he interacted with them himself, as if he was there to see it all unfold. He was let in on the gossips, too and the pet peeves she had for their batchmates in the academy. It was another foreign life for him.

She had trouble sleeping on their first week together. He made sure to maintain his distance from her area, mindful of her personal space, but he noticed how she would toss and turn until she would slip a pill into her mouth and slump like a log.

And here he thought he was the one with nightmares.

On their second month together, they became comfortable enough to sleep beside each other. He initiated the move first, grumbling because there were mosquitoes on his side (despite him being fully covered), and he was aware she picked up on his lame excuse. But as usual, Sakura waved this off with a chuckle and jokingly told him, “I still have space. No blood-suckling insects here.”

As if it was his second nature, he extended his still intact arm to serve as her pillow. She turned to face him and snuggled closer to his chest. Warmth enveloped his being like never before.

Until he woke up unguarded with a kunai on his neck. “What the fuck, Sakura?” She’s probably sleep-walking. Do not provoke.

It was as if he faced an entirely different person – hair untangled from the red hair band she wore, angry glints in her emerald eyes, and teeth ground together. She jumped away from him, the kunai serving as her defense. Sasuke stayed still, waiting for her to calm down.

Sakura hissed at him, “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Why is she speaking in third-person? “Have I…. Have I made you uncomfortable?”

Sakura laughed, worry etched on her features. “Uncomfortable? You fucking traitor, killer, murderer!”

She would never say these words to him, Sasuke was sure of it. Right? Right?

“This stupid, stupid girl really stayed in love with you throughout all her traumatic experiences. Do you see now – the nightly terrors she suffers from?”

Multiple kunai buried themselves around Sasuke, but he stayed still. Sakura flung at him, her hand curled into a fist, ready to pulverize him, and he knew he had to move. He quickly shifted across trees, glancing back to see the ground where he knelt collapsed into a big hole. She easily followed him from branch to branch, her agility greatly improved even after the great war, and he was afraid to be on the other end of her punches.

She’s not using chakra? Sasuke surmised to himself. This observation basically confirmed that she was sleep-walking. He heard the twig snap behind him, and he instinctively ducked, slightly missing the knife-sharp kick from the kunoichi. He could have been decapitated.

He teleported himself to the other end of the forest, having gained enough time to rummage Sakura’s bag and find her pills. Just in time, a poisoned kunai lands on his arm before he could substitute with a log. He met her mid-air with a kick and her mouth opens, just wide enough for him to pop one pill into her mouth.

And she fell unconscious, saved by his arm just before she hit the ground.

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

“Did we move places last night?” Sakura asked, seemingly unaware of what transpired over the night.

Sasuke nodded. He made sure she never saw the damage she dealt on the forest. “Sorry I had to carry you while you were sleeping. There were…insects.” The pain shot up to his arm, and he involuntarily winced. She immediately raised her brow in worry, ready to heal him, but also ready to grill him for the specifics. “I bit my tongue, don’t worry.”

Sakura didn’t talk much the whole day – possibly racking up her brain for leftover memories. And again, they fell asleep together. When Sasuke was certain she was in a deep slumber, he moved away, carrying with him her sleeping pills. After a few minutes, the Sakura resembling last night faced him again, her bloodlust palpable in the air.

“You even have the audacity to continue sleeping beside her,” she gritted through her teeth. “To touch her skin, smell her hair, and hold her hand?”

“Sakura. Tell me what’s going on.”

Kunai appeared in between her fingers, all aimed at him and with the same dosage of poison he readily took on last night. She glared at him with such anguish that it was difficult to compromise her with the Sakura he has been with. “She fucking dissociated because of you, and I’m her defense.”

Ah, this is what Ino called before as Inner Sakura. It’s her last vanguard to her mental facilities. Apparently, even to her emotions.

Sakura continued, “She had nightmares of you striking a chidori to her heart. Cold sweats, harrowing screams throughout the night. But she had the pills, and then you met again, you distrustful son of a bitch.”

He was the bane of her existence. He let go of the pills and remained defenseless from her incoming attack. Sure enough, Sakura closed their gap and trapped his clothes to the ground with the kunai.

“And yet….and yet…..she loves you.” It was a question asked with sheer incredulity. It was the same question echoing in his mind for weeks. “And if I kill you, will that free her from this nightmare?”

She pulled out a syringe filled with violet liquid from her side pocket and pointed it on Sasuke’s neck. He saw her hand tremble from his periphery so he took the initiative and pulled her hand to stab it on his artery. It was immediate, the excruciating pain coursing through his veins like prickling needles.

Sakura doubled over at how things turned out. She just planned to torture him with words, maybe wound him, to an extent – kill him – but she felt intense guilt and sadness. Two emotions that washed over her like buckets of cold ice. “Why….why would you do that? Wake her up!”

Sasuke’s eyes start to roll over and he began to lose his senses.

She panicked, wounding her palm with the sharp edge of the syringe. With what little of the liquid was left, it was enough to summon the other part of Sakura. Both of their screams filled the forest, the poison quickly taking effect.

Realizing the current predicament they were in, Sakura swiftly channeled her chakra and extracted the liquid from her body. Sasuke however was a difficult case – it had been minutes. But she did her best, working hard until dawn. By noon, he was cured of all wounds and poison.

She waited for him to wake up. Somehow, she knew what had happened what with all the scattered kunai lifted off her storage scrolls, her personal dose of syringe, and the half-empty bottle of pills.

Tears were starting to fall down on his face which he first thought was just rain. He reached out to her, softly touching her cheek. “I told you, you’ll never forgive me.”

Sakura sobbed through her words. “There was just this part of me who refused to believe…..that there was this possibility.”

His voice was hoarse but he had to ask, he had to know. “That I love you?”

Sakura nodded, her resolve breaking again.

He lifted his two fingers shakily with whatever strength he had and they made contact with her forehead. A poke, one which she knew the gravity of. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay until your monsters go away.”

Song recommendation for this chapter: For the Fickle by Reese Lansangan - Youtube | Spotify

#ssm21 #sasusaku month #sasusaku #ssm21d3 #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sasuke #sakura #fanfic #ss fanfiction #anime fanfiction #anime

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

Text

Birthday Boy || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You plan Denki the most epic party, but save the best gift for last 😉

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!Reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content, heavy drinking (but being safe about it)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! Huge thanks to @shoutogepi for betaing, u always come thru for my denki content, like where would i be without u 😭 This is for Denki’s b-day (that passed lol) but ima just post anyway so hope you enjoy! 💖

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Denki’s in the corner overlooking the scene in front of him with a drunken smirk on his face. This party is going down as the most epic rager in the history of ragers. The spacious backyard allowed you to hire a DJ to come in and pump beats through a bad ass stereo system that even Jirou approved of. And she has unbelievably high standards considering her quirk. The bass is turned up all the way that Denki can feel it thumping against his chest.

You took the time to decorate the rest of the yard with canopies and fairy lights, providing a pretty backdrop over the starry sky. Denki’s birthday is in summer so the breeze tickling his skin was just right. People are still splashing in the pool despite it being ten at night.

Denki sees you across the yard, waving goodbye to the taco man you hired. You actually planned the whole party on your own. Denki had no idea how you balanced party planning with late-night work shifts, all the while keeping it a secret so Denki wouldn’t find out.

Then again, it wasn’t that hard to keep it from him, Denki literally heard you on the phone, hiring the taco man for his birthday, and he still didn’t think anything of it. You made sure to invite all of his pro-hero friends. It was relatively tame for the first hour until Sero challenged Denki to a keg stand, and Denki has no shame so there he stood in the middle of his backyard at two in the afternoon, hanging upside down with Sero and Kirishima holding him up, and guzzling as much beer as he could before he toppled over. The Bakusquad all yelling “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” and of course, Bakugou had to chime in, saying he could do it for longer.

And that’s how all the pro-heroes of the future generation that are deemed “noble saviors” by society end up challenging each other to various drinking games. You got the cheap booze, but no one could tell the difference by the third cup.

“You say… boobs? where...” Mineta slurs, wrenching his guts out into a flower pot. Poor flower.

Oh. Denki just narrated that whole beginning scene out loud. In the third person. Whoops.

Nobody wanted to invite Mineta, but it was Denki’s party so they all stuck it out for one night. After a few rounds of the typical high school party games in which Bakugou took every opportunity to shit all over -

“Why the fuck… we’re pro… pro-heroes... playin’ this… this... kiddy… sippy cup shit…”

Don’t worry, Kirishima shuts Bakugou up real fast. With his mouth.

“No one shuts me up! You hear… I- I will fuuuck…” Kirishima pulls Bakugou in for another kiss, and Denki peeps some tongue. Go Kiribaku! Mina, of course, came up with the ship name, she comes up with all of them, but Denki loves the ship name you two share the most. It’s what Mina calls… fuck… what’s it stand for? T-O-P? P-O-T? O-T-P? Denki shrugs, thinking it’s one of ‘em, and that he definitely ships you with him all day every day.

Where are you by the way? Denki needs his fill of you, a kiss every twenty minutes dammit! He hangs onto the wall when he walks, the room spinning way too much, but he’s still able to discern you from the chaos. A halo of light surrounds your figure, giving you an angelic appearance, though that can just be Denki’s vision going in and out of focus.

Denki lifts his hands up to his face, as if he were a photographer trying to get the best angle for a shot. You’re collecting empty cups from people and refilling them with water. At least that’s what Denki surmises since everyone groans when you hand them back their cup.

“Oh no, Y/N, Denki’s doing that thing again with his hands where he’s pretending to be a cameraman! Help!”

Denki giggles at the talking broccoli in his living room. Broccoli is such a nice guy, always looking after everyone, he's the number one broccoli for a reason ya know.

Denki couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend, I mean, have you seen yourself? You strut over like a model that could end Tyra Bank’s whole damn career, hips swaying in a seductive rhythm to the marching drum of Denki’s soundtrack in his head. Denki really wants to run his hands all over you, dammit, he’s been hoping to get you alone since this afternoon for some birthday sex, but with all the last-minute planning you were doing, it was never the right time.

“Now’s a good a time as any, birthday boy.” You whisper in his ear, making Denki jump when he realizes you caught him narrating out loud. This is why Denki loves you. You put up with all his weird shit.

Denki lurches forward, wobbling slightly, and proceeds to drag you upstairs. You giggle at his impatience, looking around to find the Bakusquad passed out on the couch and definitely staying the night. No way in hell are you letting anyone go home in their inebriated state. Sero is wrapped from head to toe in his own tape after Denki dared him to mummify himself. Mina is curled up on one side of the couch with her makeup miraculously still in place after all the swimming, dancing, and streaking (yes, you heard that correctly, it was a dare) Kirishima and Bakugou are cuddling on another couch, with Bakugou’s head tucked into Kirishima’s arm. Halfway through the night, Kirishima lost his shirt and he’s just been chilling shirtless the entire night.

“Hold up, this is too good,” you giggle, motioning for Denki to pose in the middle. Denki looks about ready to pass out next to them, with his eyes half-closed and smile so dopey, you’d think he just came back from overusing his quirk. You take a picture of the chaos that is your boyfriend and friends, and decide it will definitely make it into the scrapbook.

Denki drags you down the hall, like this is his first time exploring the place you’ve shared for the past two years, and leads you into every room.

“Denki, this is the bathroom!”

“Then why is there a bed?” He looks genuinely confused trying to pull you into the bathtub.

“Okay, you are way too drunk. Sure you can get it up?” You wonder if he’ll even remember your sexcapades in the morning.

“I’ll let you be the judge,” Denki pulls your hand to his crotch, which is already rock-solid through his jeans. You bite your lip, teasing the outline with your fingertips, and relishing in every twitch of his hardness. Denki huffs, clearly wanting to get this show on the road, because he throws your hand off and drags you into the next room so fast you trip over your feet.

Denki pumps his arms and shouts “huzzah!” in victory when he finally finds the bedroom, and you giggle at the loveable doof. But, any sign of light-hearted energy vanishes the moment Denki’s lips are on you. Before you know it, you’re pushed against the door, with your thighs spread apart. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, bubbling at the newfound friction of Denki’s thigh rubbing against your delicate center. He takes it upon himself to rub his cock against the inside of your thigh with absolutely no shame.

“Eager now, are we?”

Hell yeah, Denki’s eager, birthday sex is best sex… well, any sex is best sex as long as he’s getting sex. Heh. Denki should take a shot every time he says sex.

“I think you’ve had enough shots to last you till next year, birthday boy.”

Fuuuuck Denki didn’t know birthday boy was a thing for him, but now he needs every day to be his birthday, just so you call him that. And oh my god who the hell decided criss-cross straps were a good idea? It’s like a fucking maze trying to figure out how to unclasp your bra. You reach around to unclasp it yourself when Denki whines in frustration. He cuts his whine mid-way, when he sees your naked chest, nipples taut and ready to be played with. Just when he’s about to pinch your nipple, you send him for a loop and flip positions, trapping him against the door. And Denki is 100% okay with that too.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll make it the best gift you’ve gotten tonight, birthday boy, ”

You whisper directly into his ear, nibbling and licking at the lobe. You’re awarded with a slurred giggle that brings a smile to your own face. Denki throws his shirt over his head, but instead of it looking sexy like a Taylor Lautner scene in Twilight, Denki ends up getting his head stuck. You torture him for a few seconds by just standing there watching him get his arms tangled in the mix before finally helping him.

He’s still wearing that ridiculous Pikachu party hat Kirishima gave him, and when you try to slip it off, he swats your hand away. You pull his shirt over his head, and come to the conclusion that it’s not true birthday sex if said birthday boy isn’t wearing a 99 cent store party hat. Nothing can stop the delicious tingling making your pussy flutter.

He pins you with his sudden change of demeanor, even though you’re the one pinning him against the door. It amazes you how he can change from this doof wearing a party hat to 'yeah, fuck me, daddy' in three seconds straight. The electricity sizzling the room is squeezing your heart threatening to burst, as you take in Denki’s unrelenting gaze.

“I want you naked, on your knees, and worshipping my cock, unwrapping it with your tongue.”

You gulp at the unexpected switch, heat pulsing between your thighs as newfound wetness seeps through. A dark tone colors the usual tenor timbre of his voice. You slide out of your jeans and Denki takes his time ravishing every inch of your naked body with his honey-glazed eyes. He weaves his fingers, massaging the roots of your hair, and pulls you down so your eye level with his crotch.

“And then you’ll thank me for the gift by swallowing every last drop of my cum.”

Your mouth waters at his bulge on display, and you can’t stop yourself from mouthing him through his jeans. You nose at the rough fabric, biting the zipper and pulling it down with your teeth. You make sure to look up at Denki when you press a teasing kiss to the tip where there’s a wet spot, pre-cum leaking through his boxer briefs. His lips are kiss-bitten red partnered with a cute flush spread across the apples of his cheeks like he’s been out in the sun a little too long.

You love every part of Denki, you really do, but he’s giving you the sign to hurry up with how he’s literally grinding against your face. His cock bobs, hitting his stomach, when you pull his briefs down; it’s pinker than usual, he’s been horny for a while you think, and it’s leaking so much pre-cum that it’s running down the shaft. You nuzzle your face in, taking in his scent at the most concentrated part of him. You might burst if you don’t touch yourself, but it’s Denki’s night, and you want to focus all your attention on pleasing him. You’re busy having this internal debate when you hear a gruff voice from above you.

“It’s okay, baby girl, go ahead n touch yourself.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spread your legs enough to trace the outline of your folds and gather enough of your juices to start rubbing your clit in a fierce rhythm. At the same time, you lick the underside of Denki’s cock, following the path of the vein leading up to the head, where you swirl your tongue in circles. You pull off the tip with a pop.

“Birthday boy’s gone quiet,” you whisper, looking up at Denki. It’s true. He hasn’t made a sound which makes you a little concerned he’s not enjoying it. You voice this concern openly.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

He shakes his head, “No, baby, I love it… just… enjoying the view,” his breath hitches at the end.

Fuck, Denki thinks, how could that even cross your mind? Not when you’re naked on your knees, chest blossomed with different colored hickeys Denki’s left on you from the week before. You’re giving him that doe-eyed look that completely contradicts your naughty actions of suckling his balls. Denki bites his lip when your tongue peeps from your lips to get his cock warm and wet, but what he doesn’t expect is for you to pull away. Denki groans at the loss of heat surrounding his cock. You wipe the spit dribbling from your lips with the back of your hand.

“Babe, I love you and all your weirdness, but I will stop going down on you if I have to hear you refer to yourself in the third person one more time.”

“But it’s my birthday,” Denki moans, banging his head against the door.

You roll your eyes, tempted to retort with “it’s my mouth,” but pleasuring Denki is top priority, and apparently Denki very much agrees with this sentiment as he forces your head towards his cock. You don’t have time to catch your breath before you’re diving face-first into a mouth full of Denki. Tears spring from your eyes at the shock of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but once you relax your throat and neck, you return to rubbing circles against your dripping clit to the same rhythm of Denki fucking into your mouth. You moan, causing vibrations to thrum around his cock and travel through every synapse of his body.

“Fuck yeah mmmmm… just like that, knew you could do it, fuck baby you take me in so good like my cock was made for your tight little pussy and mouth,” Denki groans, unable to filter what’s coming out of his mouth. The sight of his cock going all the way in and out of your mouth, sucking him in almost as good as your pussy, makes his balls tighten and he knows he’s getting close.

“You like that, huh? You like being stuffed full of my cock? You don’t care which hole as long as I’m fuckin’ into one, isn’t that right, baby girl?”

You moan in response, eyes rolling in the back of your head, as you chase the high you’re so desperately looking for. The end is in sight, just around the corner. You press your fingers harder against your clit, rubbing intense figure eights, as you choke on Denki’s cock. Your jaw is starting to ache, but you’re at the home stretch now. When you try to pull off to gasp for air, Denki grips your hair tighter, and thrusts his hips forward. All you can do is sit there and take his thick cock, saliva dripping down your chin, mixing with the sweat glistening your chest. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis, so each time you breathe in, the scent of Denki hits you hard, his happy trail tickling the inside of your nose.

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you look right now touching yourself. Like swallowing my cock turns you on that fuckin’ much.”

The raw power of having Denki above you, saying these filthy things, even with that fucking party hat on, is making your pussy flutter, almost like your body is begging for him to slide into you this instant. As a compromise, you insert two fingers into your pussy and start to rock your hips, riding your fingers in time to Denki fucking your mouth.

“Ah shit ah… mmmmm you wish it was my cock inside you, huh? Bet you’re so fuckin’ soaked that I’d slide right in.”

You moan in affirmation, your pussy quaking at the suggestion, begging to be filled. The coil tightening your core is about to snap, and your thighs shake in sheer anticipation of the wave of pleasure about to spill. Just when you’re about to come, Denki pulls you out from under him. You only have a moment to gasp for much-needed air before you’re slammed up against the door. Denki slams into you so deep that his cock hits your g-spot on the first thrust. He’s ramming into you so hard that your thigh starts to slip down. Denki picks you up, patting your bum as a signal for you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Tell me…mmmm fuuuck…how much you love my cock,” he finally grits out, his words getting lost between the sounds of your love-making.

You didn’t expect to be pleasured tonight by Denki, and honestly, you were completely okay with finishing yourself off, but knowing that he’s taking the time to make sure you’re taken care of when it’s his night turns you on even more. A filthy, squelching sound can be heard every time Denki pushes in, coating his cock with your juices.

“Ah… mmmm… I love your cock, baby - love… how... mmmm… it fits in my mouth... and fills me up. I love when you’re inside me, and... you fill me up with your cum and there’s so much it drips out… Your cock is the best I’ve ever had… God baby, I feel like it’s my birthday tonight.” You babble in between kisses and moans.

“I want you to feel good too, baby, now come on lemme hear you scream. I want everyone downstairs to know you’re taking my cock and loving it.”

Both of you are a damn mess at this point. Your hair sticking to your face, and drool dribbling down your chin, but all you can think about is the wave of pleasure about to seize your entire being. Denki feels it too since he starts thrusting at an uneven pace, but still able to hit your g-spot with unapologetic precision, like the sharpshooter he is.

It takes one more deep thrust to topple you headfirst into the abyss of your long-awaited orgasm, and oh does it feel good.

“Denki! I- oh god- right there! Right fucking there, oh god I-I’m- mmmm...”

A scream is ripped from your throat, as your back is slammed against the door, your boobs bouncing up and down from the sheer force of Denki’s thrusts. He found his way down to your pussy, making sure to rub your clit with his thumb, so you get the dual sensation. Liquid heat rushes through every inch of you, releasing any and all tension from your body. Denki continues to fuck into you, making sure you come more than once. He groans when your pussy clenches around his dick, but he doesn’t stop riding your orgasm out with you until you’re completely spent. Your body buzzes in the blissful after-effects, but you come back to reality when Denki grunts.

“Fuck, babe, lemme come all over that pretty face.”

You whine at the dull throb of your pussy, the thought of being covered in Denki’s seed is exciting you despite just getting off. You unwrap your legs from his waist, and make your way down on your knees once again. Denki takes himself in his hand and works himself in overtime with coordination you had no idea he still possessed while being this tipsy. Seeing the outline of his flexing bicep reminds you of how much power he wields over you. You eagerly await for him to finish on you. You lick your lips, hoping to catch any drops of come that land in your mouth.

“Say ah,” Denki pries your jaw open with his other hand.

“Ahhhh,” you obey, looking up at him expectantly. You run your fingers wherever you can; his arms, down his stomach, his thighs like you don’t know where to hold on to for purchase. He speeds his hand up a little more, his jaw clicks and you see his jawbone protrude, giving a masculine, angular look to his face. Everything about Denki right now screams dominance that you’re wondering if this is even your Denki. You’re taken out of your thoughts when he groans, spilling his seed all over your face and in your mouth.

“Just like that… fuck yeah… now swallow like the good girl I know you are.”

There’s so much come that it drips down your chest and between your cleavage. He groans at the sight of you covered in his seed, and he makes sure to milk every last drop. You make sure to look up at him when you swivel his cum around like your finger painting, before bringing it up to your mouth and sucking it. You make sure to lick yourself clean, not wanting any to go to waste, and Denki watches with his mouth slightly open and chest heaving, trying to catch his breath, but it’s impossible with the image in front of him.

Once you finish putting on a show, you get up and take Denki by the hand to lead him to the bed you share. There’s a moment of stillness, electricity still buzzing through the room, but you’re both way too exhausted from the long day to have any energy to really bask in the afterglow. You’re caught up in your own thoughts, but you’re interrupted when you hear a “honk” and catch Denki blowing a kazoo with his party hat barely hanging onto the side of his face. You still can’t believe you came with him wearing that hat; you must really love him. He looks thoroughly fucked out and like he’s just had the best birthday ever.

Denki’s had the best birthday ever. Period. He turns to snuggle into you, despite both of you being sweaty and sticky. He wants to feel you against him.

“Thank you, Y/N, for today, and for all the birthdays before, and the many others to come. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world being able to spend them all with you.” He trails off as a yawn takes over. You lean forward to kiss him lovingly on the lips. Your noses rub together in that sickly sweet way that everyone secretly loves, but pretends to hate if they see another couple doing it.

And as his eyes threaten to shut, Denki thinks it’s a perfect finish to a perfect night. The end. He faintly hears you giggle, and the last thing Denki hears before he drifts to sleep is-

“It’s only the beginning, birthday boy, only the beginning. Happy birthday, Denki.”

#kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki smut #bnhabookclub #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari smut #kaminari denki imagine #kaminari denki scenarios #bnha smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fic

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rex101111 · 3 years

Text

Doctor visits (and what purpose they serve)

Rating: T

Summery: Anji, Baiken and Eri visit the doctor for a perfectly routine check-up.

Faust grows very sick of two of them, for different reasons.

AN: Finally. FUCKING FINALLY I ON GOD FINISHED IT. THE FIRST ERI PIECE I DID IN A WHILE. AND ALSO A BAIKEN ANJI FIC. HECK YEAH. also first time writing Faust let’s hope I did okay. enjoy.

ALSO. 50TH STORY ON AO3. HECK YEAH. okay here you go.

Faust was sure nothing gave him as much trouble as giving children a physical. Not because of the children themselves, of course not. They were always nervous the first time, of course, but with a light dosage of silly faces and liberal application of cheap magic tricks, they always came around.

No, the children were never the problem, their parents on the other hand…

Whether they were nervous themselves, protective, or worst of all bored, they never failed to prove to be a headache during what was supposed to be a quick and easy check-up. And that was under normal circumstances.

And, as most things tended to be for Faust, today was in no way normal.

Firstly, the child. Forgetting any of her outstanding physical traits, Faust had seen many varieties of weird shit and a horn was comparatively mundane, she was quite unlike any child he had ever met before. She flinched and quaked at every metal object in his office, as if it was meant for her. She barely spoke a word since she sat on the medical bed, only mumbling her answers when he asked her questions about her health and diet.

She had signs of malnutrition (thin limbs, underweight, slightly pale skin), but they were clearly in remission for the past few months or so. She had faint signs of every form of child abuse he had ever had to deal with in his office, but all of them muted and in recovery, slow as it was.

And then, as he went on, she started to straighten her spine and look him in the eye…hole more directly. She still shook when he brought out his stethoscope, but it seemed controlled, somehow.

About half way through, he decided he’ll give her two lollipops, an extra brave girl deserved an extra reward.

…secondly the…well, he hesitated to say parent. If only because he had no idea how the person in question would react to the title. Baiken and Anji could never find their way to him quietly, it was always a big thing. He either had to stich up a life-threatening wound while Baiken cursed at him, or untie some mess Anji had somehow gotten himself into.

And now, they bring this interesting child into his practice. The bright red eyes made some very loud klaxons blare in his head, but every other thing about her gave him pause. She was dressed comfortably, in a ruby red kimono, and was hiding from him behind Baiken’s leg. Children being nervous around a stranger was normal, and Faust would readily admit that he was very strange indeed, but something about her posture and how tightly she had gripped the fabric, not to mention the hint of bandages peaking from her sleeves, made a different set of warning sirens sound off.

Anji kneeled down and patted the girl on the head, the gesture seeming to calm her, before he looked at Faust, “Doctor!” He cheerfully greeted, “so good to see you after such a long time!” He pointed towards the young girl like he was presenting something fantastic, “You see, me and Baiken had recently added a tiny companion to our merry little band,” he graciously ignored Baiken clicking her tongue, “and well, it just hit us the other day that we don’t know anything about her medical condition!” Anji stood up dramatically and puffed himself up for something no doubt very long winded, “so you see, we came here for a very important task! We need-“

“She needs a check-up,” Baiken had gruffly surmised, putting her hand on the child’s head, “you got a free slot today or what?”

Anji visibly deflated, one could almost hear the high pitched whine of rushing helium, before he cleared his throat, “uh, yes, that.” He shuffled his feet quietly while Baiken shook her head with a wry smirk and Eri looked between them, wide eyed and confused, “so…do you?”

As it so happened, he did, so now here he was, testing the little girl’s, Eri’s, reflexes while Baiken attempted to glare a hole in the side of his head, her sword clicking in and out of her scabbard with repeated flicks of her thumb.

“Better watch that hammer Doc,” the samurai growled lowly, narrowing her eye at him, “she makes a sound of pain and you stop feeling any,” teeth grinding against each other and an extra loud click, “permanently.”

The threat itself would have usually gone ignored. Faust was used to Baiken’s almost comical mistrust of medical professionals, he long figured that whatever cost her an arm and an eye soured her on the whole business and he could hardly begrudge her a bit of grumbling in light of that.

With Eri here, the threat seemed to hold significantly more weight. Every time he pulled some new device or tool she refused to let him anywhere near the girl until he told her exactly what it was and exactly what he intended to do with it to her. He had to repeatedly stamp down his frustration with her lack of knowledge, if she hadn’t made a habit of deliberately skipping physical checks, she would know nothing in this office could hurt a fly…well, unless it fell on the fly but that would be hardly fair to blame him on.

And honestly, it would have been heartwarming, if it didn’t make this check take up much, much longer then it needed to. That being said, he made a point of making as small an impact as he could on Eri’s knees, the legs kicking up lightly in response. “Very good dear.”

He got up and walked to his papers, sitting in a chair as he started writing down his newest data while pointedly ignoring Baiken continuing to glare at his back. As well as her reaching away from her sword to rub a single, slow circle on Eri’s back. A gesture that seemed to visibly and quickly calm the girl down.

For all the wonderful, odd things Faust had seen, the one thing he never imagined he’d see is someone that Baiken actually tried to comfort. Well, aside from the times Anji had brushed death’s door in his clinic and she held his hand while he recovered. But then again, that was an exception…and then again, Anji always seemed to be an exception when Baiken was concerned.

That is, apparently, until Eri showed up.

The dancer himself was waiting outside, no doubt yammering Fanny’s ear off, and the look he gave Faust as he handed over Eri and Baiken was…odd. There was something tense in Anji as he saw them off into the room, though that was quickly hidden as Faust decided to give Anji his full attention for a moment.

He pushed those thoughts aside to return to the matter at hand. He opened one last drawer, taking out a syringe. Considering how Eri reacted to everything else he pulled out…he almost feared her reaction to this more than Baiken’s. Almost.

Taking a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst, he turned around on his chair with the syringe in one hand, the other raising up in a gesture meant to calm, “alright dear we’re almost done.” Since his head was still attached to his neck, though Eri froze on the bed, he hazarded to keep going, “all I need to do is take a small blood-“

“No!”

Things happened very quickly after that, like dominos getting blasted by a leaf blower towards a very big and red button. Eri curled almost completely inwards on herself, shivering in panic and shuffling away.

Baiken looked at her in alarm, looked at him, looked at the needle, and then she glare-fast-deathSWORD!

Shink!

Through some miracle Faust did not dare to question, he somehow managed to pull out his clipboard and place it in the path of Baiken’s strike, and further, in a display of what could only be divine slapstick, the sword was stuck in the board instead of cleaving it clean in half and going on its merry way to do the same to his bag and face.

Though by the sounds of straining wood and low growls, along with the chair he sat in making some very distressing sounds of its own, that miracle wouldn’t last for long.

“Five seconds.” The samurai hissed while her arm quaked trying to continue its trajectory, ”explain the fucking needle.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, “blood tests!” He squeaked with no regard for his dignity, “need blood for blood tests! General health! Vaccinations! Any other minor health problem that can’t be determined with a non-invasive examination!” The explanation tumbled out of his mouth in a hurried panic, a flower bloomed at the top of his head, its petals wilting, as he smiled a rictus grin under his bag. “One point five milliliters! Tops! Promise!”

A few heart-attack inducing moments passed, and then Baiken finally, mercifully, retracted her sword. “Hmph.” She huffed tonelessly, before turning her head to the still shivering form of Eri on the medical bed.

Almost instantly, all the tension in Baiken’s shoulders vanished and she sighed. His head swirled in lingering panic trying to square this Baiken with the one he was used to, finding little success.

Turning his attention to the young girl, he finally gathered enough of his wits to feel very worried. “Oh dear…” He looked between Eri and Baiken, the latter stone like as she stared at the young girl, and raised his nearly sliced clipboard in her direction, “uh, should we call Anji or-“

“I’ll handle it.”

He felt like he got slapped by a fish, which was odd since May wasn’t due for a check-up for another week, “what?”

“I said I’ll handle it.” She repeated tiredly, sheathing her sword and walking towards Eri with an oddly calm stride. As she reached the bed, she carefully and slowly lifted her hand and touched Eri’s shoulder, the young girl flinching almost violently at the contact. “Hey, kiddo,” Baiken, undeterred by the reaction, whispered gently to the young girl. “Kiddo, it’s just me.”

The sheer difference compared to what was a person trying to rip him in half not a minute ago was nearly surreal, and he had never heard Baiken talk like that to anyone. And yet here she is, slowly rubbing circles on Eri’s shoulder with her thumb until the young girl took enough control of her hiccupping sobs to look up at her.

The relief Eri showed towards Baiken was even more surreal, he should probably check if he mistook his morning aspirin for something a bit more potent. “I-“ The halting voice of Eri knocked him out of his incredulity, the girl sniffing miserably. “I-I can’t…” Something dark and stomach-churning passed her expression, “It’s…it’s just like-“

“It isn’t.” Baiken declared quietly, her voice going tight, “The doc ain’t nothing like…” Her shoulders bunch up for a moment before relaxing again, “…he ain’t nothing like him Eri.” Baiken looks at him over her shoulder, still in his chair waiting to see if getting up would be worth the effort. “He’s a bit of a kook, but he’s good at his job…everything considered.”

Faust did his dignity a favor and choose to take that as a compliment.

“…I trust him.” Faust pushed down the minor elation at hearing that, Baiken was in the middle of something and a victory dance would probably undermine it. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t Eri.” She then put her hand on Eri’s head, mussing up her ivory hair. “I promise.”

He had the slightest feeling he was intruding on something, so he elected to mess with the buttons on his jacket when Eri started to wipe her face. Part of him was happy that Baiken could find someone to be this gentle with. All that anger building up in her was a recipe for both misery and high blood pressure.

Another part of him, a part that remembered a small, motionless body on an operating table, couldn’t help but…worry. Baiken was strong enough to defend herself…but could she-?

“Doc.”

He nearly ripped a button when he fell off his chair in surprise, though he quickly caught himself and stood up to his full height, nearly hitting the ceiling light. “Ye-“ He cleared his throat mid-squawk. “Yes?”

“Get another needle,” She continued, sitting on the bed next to a now calm, but still sniffling, Eri. “Do me before you get to her.” She raised her scarred eyebrow at him. “I’m due for physical, ain’t I?”

It took him a moment to catch on, but soon he relaxed his posture and clapped his hands in realization, “as a matter of fact you are, now that I think of it!” He went back to the drawer to take out another syringe. He then sat on his chair again, backwards, and wheeled himself before his two patients. He pulled out a handkerchief for Eri out of one of his pockets before he went on cheerfully, “And a lucky thing that you are Baiken, because this affords me to explain to Eri exactly what I need to do.”

He looked at Eri, another flower, healthier than the last one, blooming on his head as he leaned slightly towards her, “would you like that Eri? I promise it’s very interesting.”

Eri stared at him for a moment, her eyes lingering on the flower, before she sniffed one last time and wiped her face, nodding quietly.

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, taking out a cotton swab and soaking it with rubbing alcohol, “first things first, we need to clean and sterilize the area where I intend to put the needle.” He wiggled his fingers rapidly and waved his head back and forth, “there’s all sorts of creepy crawly germs on your skin, and they have no business getting into your body, so we need to make sure they aren’t anywhere near the needle.”

Eri, to his eternal relief, actually giggled a little, her lips lifting up slightly in not-quite-a-smile. She watched him rub the swab on the crook of Baiken’s elbow, “why there?”

“Excellent question my dear!” Faust praised with a raised finger, before pointing to the blue vein in the crook, “you see, this vein is in an easy to access location, and is almost flush with the skin, so there’s no danger of putting the needle through anything important.” He then took the needle and began piercing Baiken’s skin. “And now…”

Eri watched him pull back on the back of the syringe, the tube filling with blood for a moment before he took it out and placed the swab on it.

Baiken, naturally, never made a sound or even twitched during the whole process. Didn’t so much as breath in to brace for it. If Faust hadn’t just finished extracting blood, and knew Baiken well enough, he would have been very concerned. Well, more concerned about her than he usually was at any rate.

“There! Now we just tape it down to stop the bleeding,” saying so he took out a length of clear tape out of another pocket and used it to hold the cotton swab in place. “And voila!” He stood on his feet and took a dramatic bow, “all finished.”

Eri’s eyes shone with admiration, getting caught up in Faust’s performance and clapping excitedly for him. He showed his gratitude for her applause with the required grace, taking another two bows. Baiken scoffed quietly but didn’t interrupt, Faust knew her well enough not to be offended by the fact she didn’t clap.

“Alright then.” Faust said finally, sitting back down on the chair and taking out the second syringe, “now for your turn dear.” He looked at her arms, covered from wrist to armpit in bandages, freshly changed even, and made an effort to not be obvious as he braced for what he would see underneath, “if you would please?”

He tried to make the request as gentle as possible, but still Eri’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her hands freezing mid-clap before grabbing her forearms tightly. She looked at him for a long moment, before looking aside at Baiken. The samurai smirked, the expression strangely warm, and nodded briefly.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Eri began to unravel her bandages with a determined look on her face.

What Faust saw underneath them made his skin crawl and his blood boil. The cruelty was evident on every scar, but what really got stuck in his craw was the precision. Whoever made those marks on Eri had a hand as steady as a rock, not a single mark of hesitation or second guessing. Such precision was born of either practice, or innate talent, and he wasn’t sure which option made him more sick to his stomach.

(He felt more than a little hypocritical, but if there was one thing he and Bald-the good doctor agreed on, was that such marks should never appear on children.)

“Doctor?” The small voice nearly made him gag from the memories it brought up, but he managed to take back control of himself quick enough for his vision to coalesce enough to see Eri looking up at him in concern, “are you okay? You were quiet for a long time…”

He opened his mouth before he closed it, his mind drawing a blank. He looked aside at Baiken, who raised an eyebrow at him, her look half dubious and half worried herself.

“I’m fine dear.” He finally managed, waving away her worry, “I just remembered something, don’t worry about it, alright?” He waited for her to nod, before returning it more energetically, “wonderful, so, back to business.”

The swab, “it’s a bit cold and might tickle a bit, okay?”

A quick, halting nod. Followed by a quick burst of laughter.

“Pump your fist a bit dear?”

Biting her tongue, she made an adorable effort of making and opening a fist. The way she did it made it clear that she never had to fight anyone, which made the strain in his chest unclench a bit.

“Right…” The needle in his hand began moving, “brace yourself dear…”

Despite the courage she showed before, some of it crumbled in the face of the sharp point so close to her flesh. There was no uncertainty in her eyes, she knew exactly how the needle would feel.

Faust breathed through his nose and counted to five.

Almost as if by instinct, Eri buried her face in Baiken’s nearby shoulder, her free hand grabbing on to the fabric much like she did when she first showed up. But her other arm stayed where it was, she didn’t try to pull it away or hide it from the doctor, she simply did as he instructed and braced herself.

Three. He’ll give her three lollipops.

He grabbed hold of her offered arm by the wrist, and brought the needle close to her vein, “deep breath,” Eri did as he said, and the second she finished taking in air he finally sticks the needle in. The girl flinches, but only digs her face deeper into Baiken’s shoulder with a restrained whine.

He takes out one point five milliliters, Baiken’s eye welded to the tiny measurement lines, and takes the needle out. “Almost done.” With professional efficiency, he stops the bleeding with a cotton ball, before covering it with a Band-Aid.

A pink one, with a picture of a unicorn on it.

“…really doc?” Baiken is half-way to smirking, but the tone of her voice makes it look like a grimace, “what, you got a stash of those?”

“Of all the things I do, this is what draws you up short?” He asks innocently, gesturing at himself. “Besides, I thought it would be appropriate.” Baiken opened her mouth before closing it and making a yeah good point shrug, Faust then turned to his patient, “now Eri, how are you feeling?” He tapped her wrist lightly, the Band-Aid smiling up at her as she looked at it, “any pain? Itching? Discomfort?”

The girl shook her head, “N-No, I’m okay.” She takes one last, lingering look at the unicorn, her lips twitching upwards for a moment, before picking up her bandages to re-wrap her forearms with practiced ease, and then looking at the doctor with a bit of apprehension, “i-is there anything else?”

“Oh no,” The doctor waved off, standing up from his chair with a clap of his hands, “we’re all done for today, and you were very brave.” He leaned down to her eye-level, “and do you know what you get for being very brave?”

Eri looked at him doubtfully, before shaking her head.

Without a word, Faust pulled out three red, plastic covered lollipops, and handed them over to the wide-eyed girl, “a well-deserved reward, that’s what.”

“Damn straight,” Baiken agreed, patting the little girl on the back with a toothy grin, “good job kid, you’ve earned it.” Then her face did something that nearly made Faust’s eye twitch, it went stern, “just don’t eat ‘em all right way yeah? There’s gonna be dinner soon.”

Upon hearing Baiken, of all people, say something that stereotypically parental, Faust could feel his patience for the universe at large rapidly approaching its limit. He took Eri down from the bed and began ushering the two of them out of his office. “Alright, then let’s leave, we’ve kept Anji waiting for long enough.”

Eri unwrapped one of her rewards, stashing the other two in the clothing folds on her chest, and popped it into her mouth as they walked. Baiken looked down at her with an oddly soft expression that left her face as soon as they caught sight of Anji and Fanny.

The dancer was engaged in what seemed like a very exciting and very one sided conversation, the nurse smiling politely at him with all the energy of someone who has been on the rack all damn day and just wants his executioner to get a move on already. If Anji noticed, and he almost certainly did, he made a great show of not being bothered by it.

His focus shifted instantly when Eri and Baiken came close enough, Anji’s smile lighting up his face as he walked towards them, “Eri! So good to see you again!” He kneeled down to meet her gaze properly, “and I see you’ve a reward as well!” He put his hand on her head and warmly ruffled her hair, smile reaching his eyes, “good job dear.”

Faust found this sight slightly easier to stomach, Anji had always been the more emotionally open of the duo. But still, to see those two this attached to this little girl…something about it boded ill, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Shorry it took sho long…” Eri twiddled her thumbs with the lollipop still in her mouth, “it was kinda shcary…”

“Oh don’t worry about it sweetheart.” Anji waved off with a chuckle, “I had some very pleasant company to pass the time with.” He turned around to smile at Fanny, “isn’t that right, miss nurse?”

“Oh yes Mr. Mito.” Fanny nodded cheerfully while writing something on a nearby clipboard, “it was a very engaging conversation.” Anji nodded back, but as soon as he turned his head to look back at Eri, the nurse lifted the clipboard to show what she wrote, the polite smile unmoving on her face.

It read, in very fancy but firm writing: “Never leave me alone with him again. Ever.” The word “ever” was underlined. Four times. With a separate, red marker.

Faust mentally penciled tomorrow off for Fanny, she’s earned her own little “lollipop”, so to speak. “I’m happy you were patient with us Mr. Mito,” He began, before he sighed, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait a bit longer.”

Eri simply blinked at him innocently still busy with her treat, while Baiken and Anji snapped their gazes to him in unison, like a pair of hawks on a hunt, shoulders tense and eyes sharp.

“Nothing serious!” He was quick to assure, the two relaxing only slightly, “It’s simply that Ms. Baiken reminded she is well past due her own checkup.” He turned to Baiken with a smile under his mask that was perfectly professional, “isn’t that right, miss Baiken?”

The samurai’s stare quickly morphed into something that screamed me and my big mouth before she bared her teeth and shook her head, “you know you ain’t going anywhere near me, yeah?”

“I am fully aware yes.” Faust nodded diplomatically, “but the fact remains that you do need a check-up, so I am offering a compromise,” he gestures towards his ever-loyal nurse, “I think that you will find Nurse Fanny to be entirely professional, and as a female physician she would know better what you would find uncomfortable or not.” He clears his throat. “Better than me, at any rate.”

Baiken looked at Fanny, who had jumped to attention with a slightly overeager smile on her face at being called to action, a bit dubiously, but before she could voice her misgivings, Anji jumped in with a hand on her shoulder, “excellent idea doctor!” He squeezed her shoulder with a smile that was only slightly sharp at the edges, “if we’re here and worried about our health, why not make the most of the visit?”

Baiken shoved her elbow into her partner’s stomach with a scowl, “I don’t need-“

“After all,” Anji continued smoothly, with one arm rubbing where the elbow had impacted while he smiled a bit more sharply, “since we put Eri through this rigmarole, why shouldn’t we do the same?” Anji leaned a bit more into Baiken’s space, and while the dancer while still smiling Faust was certain the samurai began to sweat a little, “all in the interest of health, of course.”

After a moment of heated glaring, Baiken visibly sagged with a sigh, “fine, whatever.” She leaned out of Anji’s grasp, the dancer letting her go easily, and turned to Fanny, “alright nurse, let’s get this over with yeah? I got other shit to-“ A tug at her kimono stopped her, and she looked down to see Eri grasping the white cloth with a worried look on her face, “…don’t worry kiddo.” She mussed Eri’s hair a bit, “I’m just making noise, I’ll be back out before-“

“Can I come with you?” Eri interjected quickly, as if saying it any slower would drain her courage, “I-I mean, I was scared at the doctor’s, s-so, I want to be there with you too.” She worried the white cloth in her hands and looked down at her feet, “y-you know, i-if you get scared.”

The idea of Baiken being afraid of something as mundane as a checkup, for all of her bluster, was just this side of ludicrous, but Faust managed to hold on to his laughter long enough for Baiken to sigh quietly again, much softer this time, turning to Fanny with a light smirk, “is it okay if I bring a guest?”

Fanny smiled warmly as she opened the door to the examination room, “of course! Little Eri won’t be a bother at all, please!” She motioned for the two to come in, “let’s get started, shall we?”

Baiken scoffed, “ya hear that kid? You’re my backup.” She smiled with her teeth at the little girl, who nodded excitedly at the gesture instead of cowering in fear as most would in response to one of Baiken’s smiles, and started following her guardian as they entered the room.

Anji spoke up, “maybe I can-“

“You stay here,” Baiken stabbed at him irritably, “your bull earned you an extra half hour of boredom, now sit.” She glared him down into the nearest plastic chair, and turned back to the room…before sparing her nurse one last doubtful look, “…you don’t still have that huge-ass needle, right?”

“Oh don’t worry miss Baiken!” Fanny reassured as she began to close the door, “I only use that for emergencies.”

The last thing of Baiken to be seen before the doors closed is her face morphing into the very picture of deep concern.

And thus, the two men were left to themselves. Anji went to a nearby chair, sat on it very slowly and deliberately, and turned to Faust with a very thin smile, “you have the look of a man with a lot on his mind, doctor.” Anji’s smile grow wider but stayed as thin as paper as he patted the pale yellow plastic chair to his left in invitation, “how about you have a seat and you can unload all of those worries to your old friend Anji, eh?”

Anji Mito was certainly very friendly, of that Faust would gladly attest, but his friend? That was stretching it a bit, “I’ll stand, Mr. Mito, thank you.” He took out the vial of blood he took from Eri out of his pocket and moved it in his palm for a moment, “and yes, I have a great number of worries to bring to your attention.”

Anji stared at him for a moment, before something in his eyes shifted and changed, the angle of his gaze sharper than it was a moment ago. Wordlessly, he motioned for Faust to begin, his smile painted on.

Faust knew subtlety would be a waste of time, so he went straight to it. “She’s a Gear.” Not a question, but simply a statement of fact. He looked down at the vial, the color in it shifting in the florescent light of his practice in ways that normal blood simply did not. “Is That Man involved in this?”

“Ha!” Anji barked out harshly, clapping his hands once, “well, aren’t we perceptive! Good catch doctor!” His smile opened up and showed a few teeth, “did the red eyes and horn give it away?”

Faust clenched his free hand but kept his calm, “answer the question Mr. Mito.”

Anji was quiet for a moment, before his smile shrunk slightly and he shook his head, “no, I’m intimately familiar with his work. Trust me, Asuka had nothing to do with this.” He laughed a little nervously, “if he did, we’d be on the run from Mr. Badguy right now.”

Faust sighed, conceding the point, “fair enough.” He moved to his desk to shuffle a few of the notes he’s made about Eri during her check-up. “What information do you have about where she came from?”

“Next to nothing.” Anji answered almost too cheerfully, “the circumstances of us meeting Eri sort of…put a damper on any effort to find out about her past.” He coughed into his palm, “it was part of the reason I brought her to you doctor.” A smile as sweet as arsenic stretched his face, “would it be too much trouble to ask you to send that blood sample to Illyria?”

Faust rubbed his forehead over his paper back with a weary sigh, “I’ll try to get it to Paradox directly.” He was beginning to understand Baiken’s short temper more and more, “…regarding those circumstances…” Anji’s smile slipped right off, “…I’m guessing she came into your company from…the person who gave her those scars?”

Anji blinked at the doctor for a moment, and then smiled again, this time a bit more honestly, “yes, those would be the broad strokes.” He laughed a bit coldly, something in his eyes far away, “I’d rather keep the bloody details to myself, if you wouldn’t mind.” He looked at Faust from the corner of his eye, tone reassuring, “purely for your own safety of course, plausible deniability and all that.”

Faust grit his teeth, but decided to let that particular battle die in favor of more pressing concerns, “how long have you been traveling with Eri?”

Anji straightened his posture and nodded briefly, “six months.”

“Ah, how taller has she grown in that time?”

“Not an inch.”

Faust nearly fell backwards from shock. Of all the things Gears were known for, rapid maturation and growth was foremost of them. Yet Eri looked no older than 7 years of age. “…stunted growth?” He muttered in disbelief, cold sweat on his brow. “In a Gear?”

“Another reason to come to you, specifically.” Anji answered plainly, his smile going flat and his gaze burning a hole in the wall in front of him. “I’m no medical expert, but something tells me those scars might have something to do with it.”

Faust gripped his table nearly hard enough to dent the metal, only barely keeping a grip on his control with a few deep breathes and a glass of water. Anji politely looking away just long enough for Faust to pull his mask up to drink.

After a moment, Faust walked towards Anji and finally took the seat he was offered next to him, sitting down heavily with his head in his hands and his knees drawn up to his ears.

Anji waited without a word, his eyes glued to the door his two girls had vanished behind, but Faust could still feel his gaze, somehow, boring a hole into him as well. Faust shook his head again and straightened up, looking down at Anji, “there was another wound, on her shoulder.” Faust stopped for a reaction, but only got a raised eyebrow, “it was fresher than the rest, what happened?”

“Why didn’t you ask Baiken?”

“It was a closed, clean wound, it was not my place to ask unprompted questions of my patients.” Faust explained tensely, “And I didn’t want to upset Eri besides,” that earned him an agreeing hum from Anji at last, “how did it happen?”

“A few opportunistic young men thought it a good way to earn a lot of money in a very short amount of time by throwing themselves at Baiken and myself,” Anji shrugged, though he stiffly looked away as he did, “…poor Eri got caught in the middle.”

“Assassins.” Faust bit out between his teeth, “Eri got caught in the middle of a fight you had with assassins.”

“She was kept safe the whole time.” Anji tossed straight back, finally meeting the doctor’s gaze again. “It ended well, like it always does, doctor.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of nonsense, Mr. Mito.” Anji’s eyebrows knitted together and his lips drew into a thin line. “Does Eri know how to defend herself?”

Anji laughed, utterly mirthless, “have you seen her? You want us to teach that girl how to fight?”

“Are you and Baiken going to change your lifestyle?” Faust forged on, his nerves on edge, flashes of a bloody surgical table and a horribly small body bag on his mind, “if not, are you simply going to continue to expose Eri to all this danger? Do you take her out on bounty hunting missions with you?” He nearly pressed his face to Anji, who simply stared at him stone faced, “that girl is completely dependent on you two, have you any concern for her safety?”

“Doctor.”

Anji Mito vanished.

In his place was a man with his face, but not his eyes. They were the same color and shape, but they suddenly threatened to swallow Faust whole with the sheer emptiness he saw there.

There was a hand on the collar of his shirt, pulling him along as the man that was not Anji Mito stood up from his chair. Not a trace of the flighty dancer remained, and in his place was the man that spent a significant period of his life hiding in shadows and whispers.

He spoke, and there was the hint of dried blood on his tongue as he did, “as you said, that girl is dependent on the two of us,” the man narrowed his cold, empty eyes, “be certain, we know that very well, knew it from the moment she came into our care.” The hand on his collar tightened its grip, “make no mistake, every effort we’ve made since then had been to ensure that she is safe, that she is happy.”

Finally, something filled those abyssal eyes, anger.

“That girl is everything we could have been, that girl has a future not yet stained with blood and secrets, eyes not yet worn and hollow, and I intend to make sure it stays that way.” He bared his teeth, and Faust felt like he was facing a dangerous animal, “so don’t you dare think for a moment that either of us would treat her callously.”

Finally, impossibly, Faust found his tongue, “you think you can protect her from everything?” He gripped the hand clenching his collar, “with the life you lead? Are you that delusional?”

“With all due respect,” the animal growled, something vicious and cruel crawling up his throat, “you are not the first person I’d ask regarding the safety of children,” his heart leapt into his throat, but the man kept going, “you are hardly the expert there, Doctor Baldhead.”

It took every inch of restraint he had, but somehow Faust kept from pulling a scalpel from his pocket to slice open the throat in front of him.

His point apparently made, the man that was not Anji Mito released Faust, and sat back down without a word to look at the door again. A few breathless moments passed as Faust looked down at him and got his breathing back under control, finally letting out a sigh, “…I will admit, my judgement is clouded from…past experiences,” he shook his head, “…but I stand by what I said, you can’t protect her forever.”

Another heavy moment passed, nearly crushing the both of them…before Anji Mito returned with a weightless laugh, “no, I suppose not.” He looked up at the doctor, a mirthless smirk on his face, “but we can protect her long enough to make a path for her to follow.”

Faust looked down at the man for a moment, shaking his head before beginning to walk to his desk, “what path would that be?” He reached his desk, and turned around to lean on it to look at Anji, “because from where I sit, there’s two.” He held up one finger, “one; she stays be your side, which means you need to teach her all she needs to know to be able to keep pace with you two.” He grits his teeth, “and all the bloody details that would include.”

Anji met Faust’s gaze evenly, but his hands gripped the cloth of his lap.

“And second,” he held up the second finger, “…is that you let her go, put her somewhere safe, where she would never need to raise a hand to harm anyone, that she would never need to protect herself again…” He stopped, something finally clicking to place, “…and never see you two again.”

On Anji Mito’s nearly inscrutable face, something like sadness passed for a brief moment. It was gone as soon as it appeared, and another paper smile took its place, “whatever path she’ll have, it will have to be her choice, wouldn’t you agree, doctor?” Another mirthless chuckle, “from what little I know of her life before we found her…she’s had enough of her life dictated for her, methinks.”

Faust sympathized with his nurse, because after that relatively short conversation with Anji Mito, he felt ready to curl into a ball and sleep the rest of the week away. He could have let that conversation end there, let himself end the day with at least a bit of sound mind, but something was eating at him, a question he knew he had no right to ask. That was utterly unprofessional of him to even consider asking.

But, then again, he’s been plenty unprofessional today, what’s a bit more?

Taking a breath to brace, he once more dunked his head into the shark tank that was Anji Mito’s headspace. “The person who gave Eri those scars…” He started, his grip on the table tightening, “…do you know anything about them?”

“Oh? Him?” Anji asked innocently, as if he hadn’t given that a thought in ages, “ah, I wouldn’t worry too much doctor.” The way he said that, and the smile it came with, only made Faust worry more, “last I saw of him, he was laying on a street somewhere, bleeding out of a hole between his eyes.”

Faust blinked at Anji, whatever tension and anger he gain from examining Eri deflating like a particularly sad whoopee cushion.

“I’d put him out of your head, doctor.” He turned to him with a smile as bright as a flickering florescent bulb, a hint of that emptiness back in his gaze, “I know I did.”

Before Faust could question-no, scratch that-call bullshit on that, the door to the examination room opened, revealing a slightly annoyed Baiken, a satisfied Fanny, and Eri still sucking on her lollipop.

“There they are!” Anji exclaimed, his cheer back on his face in full force, and Faust could even believe it was genuine this time, as he went to Baiken and Eri, “so! How did it go? Any sharp or metal things go into anywhere unpleasant?” He was rewarded with a smack upside the head from a very unamused Baiken, which only got a laugh out of him, “sorry, sorry, I couldn’t…” He stopped of a sudden, looking at Baiken’s face in confusion, and Faust took a second to see he was looking at Baiken’s mouth.

Or, more specifically, the small plastic stick hanging out of her mouth.

Anji blinked at her, “…what-?”

Baiken grabbed the stick, and pulled out a bright red lollipop.

“…how?”

“Eri gave it to me.” Baiken said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “said I earned it for being…” her mouth twitched to stop from becoming a smile, “…brave.”

Anji blinked in surprise, first at Baiken, and then at Eri, who nodded resolutely to show she was perfectly serious. After a moment, a smile slowly forming on his face, too slowly to be a conscious effort, and Anji laughed with more warmth than Faust had heard from him all day, “well! Can’t argue with that!” He bent down to look, and smile, at Eri at eye level. “Good call there Eri.”

The blinked before looking down with a bright blush. Baiken ruffled her hair while Anji grasped her shoulder.

And Faust understood the anger completely. Understood the insult of doubting these two.

But still, with a clear mind, he, as always, stood be his prognosis.

“Mr. Mito.” He called out, the man still leaning down as he turned to look at him, “I would like you to keep our conversation today in mind, alright?”

Anji, to his credit, only glared for a short second before he nodded, “of course, doctor.”

“Huh?” Eri looked between the two, “what did you talk about?”

“My own check up dear.” Anji lied smoothly as silk, “I set it a few months from now since I had one not too long ago,” he ruffled her hair again, “don’t worry about it.”

“…Okay.” Something shone in the girl’s eyes, but she went back to her treat with a quiet hum.

Anji stood up, met Baiken’s razor sharp gaze, and mouthed “later” silently before he turned to the doctor, “well! I think we’re all done for today!” He put a hand on Baiken’s shoulder to turn her towards the door, “say goodbye to the doctor Eri.”

Turning to Faust and Fanny, she waved goodbye in a way that made the doctor want to cry, before running to Baiken left side to grab her hand as they left.

Anji and Faust shared one last, slightly loaded stare before they stepped out the door.

(Faust closed his practice earlier than usual that day. Fanny didn’t question it, or the way he fingered the bottom of his paper bag, or how stiff and deep his voice had gotten near the end of the day.

She helped him take his medicine, and he went to bed, images of not-himself standing above a perfectly clean surgery table, waiting for his next, his last, patient swirling in his mind as he slept.

Baiken slapped Anji upside the head. She didn’t know why, exactly, she just had the feeling he had earned it.

Anji didn’t argue with that.

Eri offered him her last lollipop, but he refused, he hadn’t been brave for a long while. He wanted to earn it properly.)

#Guilty Gear #Baiken #Anji Mito #Eri (bnha)#Stuff rex wrote #doctor visits

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

Text

Yeah, forget side content, just gonna steam on ahead with the Sports Festival and onwards. I might not actually stop and start trying to do overarching plot stuff until ~chapter 100 (more specifically, post ch 97, the last chapter of the Kamino Arc) because then there will be enough material to actually like. Do stuff. Might also have something smaller after the Sports Festival since that’s ~chapter 50. Shrugs.

Anyways, onwards. Don’t you miss the days when the main trio of the series was Izuku, Tenya, and Ochako? Man, don’t I. :(

[No. 22 - That’s the Idea, Ochako!]

Character sheet! I am honestly laughing super hard at everything because just. ‘Very Ochako.’ Thank you, Horikoshi. A few things about the sheet:

1) god I love that her fingerpads are called soft. Like. Actual cat paw pad fingers going on here. just imagine if you like pressed one of them like you do with cat paw pads and like, she had cat claws that would extend. cute but also menacing.

2) strong legs. leg day squad. her, izuku, and iida all doing leg day workouts together tho... katsuki wishes he had the leg strength of those three y'all

3) That quirk description… that’s not quite how centrifugal forces work, but I mean. Superhero comic physics. At least he made an attempt at explaining her quirk.

Anyways, onto the actual chapter.

We open up in a staff meeting in a conference room at UA, with Tsukauchi presenting the results of the police investigations. He states that the one called Shigaraki has a quirk that allows him to disintegrate anything he touches. They (the police) have been through the list of men in their twenties and thirties in the quirk registry with no luck - and nothing turned up on the ‘warp gate’ user Kurogiri either. With neither registered, both using aliases, and no quirk records, they’re pretty much confirmed to be members of the underworld.

God sorry, I’m just distracted with the sheer size difference between Toshinori and Nedzu here.

What the fuck. Why did you put the largest person in the room next to the smallest?

Whatever. Snipe surmises that they know next to nothing, but they need to learn fast, or the leader of the villains, Shigaraki, will heal up and be back again. Toshinori is thoughtful as he mulls over the use of ‘leader’, which Nedzu catches quickly and inquires into. Probably still heavily banking on Toshinori’s instincts here since he was technically right about his bad feeling about the USJ just two days before.

I mean, how it has to sting Nedzu that all his state of the art systems meant to keep out intruders and alert UA to situations on campus failed at the critical moment, while Toshinori’s instincts on something being wrong had been absolutely on point and, if Nedzu had let him go, might have solved the situation that much sooner.

(I mean, there’s arguments for what could have happened if All Might did arrive early, so. Shrugs.)

And so we get into the segment I like to fondly consider a prime example of the fact that yes, Toshinori does in fact have a 6/6 intelligence score for a reason.

He brings up how nothing about the situation feels normal. It was an especially daring attack - and not just in the meticulous planning! Shigaraki had started going on about some ridiculous ideology… and though he didn’t say anything about his own quirk, he couldn’t keep himself from bragging about the nomu’s quirk. And when things didn’t go his way? He threw a tantrum. Toshinori then admits with grit teeth and clenched fist that the business about quirks was meant to provoke him, and that it did hurt.

Nedzu says that even so, it’s foolish for villains to reveal quirks in a battle against heroes and so waste the element of surprise.

Toshinori surmises his previous observations about Shigaraki - spouting a plausible yet deluded ideology, bragging about the toy he brought along, simple-mindedly assuming all would go his way. If they thought about how the attack was carried out, it seems clear that Shigaraki couldn’t hide his childish nature, the sense that he does what he wants, and then flat-out calls him a man-child.

Vlad King sums up Toshinori’s words as Shigaraki being a kid with too much power. Midnight adds on how Shigaraki might never have received general quirk counseling in elementary school; Vlad wonders whether that even matters.

Tsukauchi steps back into the conversation to give the rest of the arrest results - a total of 72 villains were apprehended at the USJ. He states that all of them were just back-alley thugs, but the question is why so many of them would agree to follow this ‘man-child.’ He points out that modern society is saturated with heroes, so small-time villains like them, who always get kicked around, might have been drawn in by that sort of pure, unaffected evil.

Toshinori having a flashback here, though his expression… I wonder if he’s having doubts already. And honestly, that flashback bit has me wonder just how common ‘uncontrollable’ quirks really are… and what COUNTS as ‘uncontrollable’ in their society.

To avoid a longer derail, Tsukauchi finishes up by saying that thanks to the heroes, the police can focus on their investigation. They’ll expand their search and devote efforts to apprehending the perpetrators.

Nedzu finishes out the scene by musing over the use of ‘man-child,’ stating that in one way, Shigaraki is a lot like their students. He has potential to grow, if only he had a proper mentor to follow. It’s difficult to think about these things.

And so we shift scenes back over to 1a. I doubt this sports festival talk is happening at the same time as the staff meeting, if only because Aizawa should have been at said staff meeting. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there at all and the homerooms were meant to handle themselves that morning? Wait, hold on-

That clock reads 8:25. This is happening during the homeroom period, which means that the other classes are having independant homeroom. Which also means it’s no surprise that Aizawa isn’t at that meeting, because he’s busy hobbling to his class to announce the sports festival. He probably had to be caught up on the meeting stuff later.

Anyways. The class is surprised over the announcement of the sports festival, someone calling it ‘totally ordinary’ while another (I think Mineta) questions whether Aizawa’s sure about this, since they just had that villain attack. Aizawa states that it’s necessary to demonstrate that UA’s crisis management protocols are sound - or that’s the thinking, anyways. There will be five times the police presence of previous years. Oh, and also the sports festival is the greatest opportunity the class will get. It’s not something that can be cancelled over a few villains.

Mineta (again?) asks if he’s sure about that, muttering about how it’s ‘just a stupid sports festival.’ Izuku seems completely horrified at the idea that Mineta might have never seen UA’s sports festival, which Mineta hastens to correct - he has, that’s not what he meant.

I’m sorry just. That face. I can’t with this kid. Jdsjlgkd.

Also, we finally get to the page that had me double-take when I got to it because, well.

So yeah, apparently the BNHA timeline didn’t have certain current events happened that would force the cancellation of the Olympics. (I mean, obviously Hori had no way of knowing the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo would be cancelled, but it’s still like a huge sign of how long this series has been running that this is here.)

Moving on, basically the above surmises for readers that the sports festival is as big an event to them as the Olympics are to us. So basically, super hype. Momo notes that all the nation’s top heroes will be watching and scouting. Kaminari adds on how the heroes will be looking to hire the hero students as sidekicks after they graduate. Jirou makes a cutting retort how a lot of those sidekicks never manage to go solo, stuck as sidekicks forever, before telling Kaminari that’ll be him.

Shot through the heart.

(Also a total aside I just realized: current manga events likely mean there will be no sports festival for 2a. I mean, I would say the events happening there are large enough in scope that UA just doesn’t have the inclination or interest in broadcasting vital information the villains could use. And like, no scouting, no internships, no purpose for it.

And I mean, even if they did, would any of the kids even be able to focus on doing their best? God knows how stressed and nervous they all must be with how society is basically collapsing outside the school.)

Aizawa tells the class that they’ll gain valuable experience and popularity if they’re picked up by a big-name hero. However, their time is limited. They need to show the pros what they’re made of to make futures for themselves. This happens once a year, so they have three shots. If they want to be heroes, this is an event they can’t miss.

The whole class seems to be taking this seriously, but Izuku…

Well, he doesn’t seem as enthused as expected.

Anyways, I’ll cut it there and leave the rest for next time, since there’s a time break in here anyways. It’s not quite halfway, but eh.

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lettersnorth · 3 years

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It didn't surprise Aislinn an onze that Mivo'to had up and disappeared on his attendings one sun. Nor was she all that concerned. He had knocked himself out due to a miscalculation. It certainly wasn't the worst thing the clinic had seen. And he had clearly recovered. Win-win all around. She got to work stripping the sheets from the bed and cleaning up the now vacant room.

Cravendy wandered into the clinic in search of fresh bandages and ointment. She could still feel the pressure pushing down on her bones, the smell of ceruleum burning after the explosion...and it didn't seem like it was going to go away any time soon. When she stepped in, she noticed Lin and called out to her on instinct. "Lin!"

An armful of sheets, Aislinn rounded the divider just as Cravendy called out. She halted, surprise flitting over her face for a brief moment before her expression pulled back to neutral. "Cravendy." she nodded a greeting and then scooted around the Seawolf to the waiting laundry basket. "What brings you in here? Everything alright?" she asked as she shoved the ball of sheets down into the overfull basket. Guess the wash was next on her list.

Cravendy awkwardly pressed herself against the infirmary partition to give Lin more space to walk, and got the feeling that she's not exactly a welcome sight. At best, a nuisance to entertain while there were chores to be done. With a shrug, she headed over to the cabinets and began pulling out all kinds of medical supplies. "Oh, ye know. Smartin' after the battle, lookin' for somethin' to make it all feel better. What about yerself? 'ow are ye 'oldin' up?"

"Me?" Aislinn asked as she straightened and brushed a flyaway wisp of hair from her eyes. "Aside from pulling Mivo'to out before the whole place went up I didn't do a damned thing that woulda caused me to be banged up." She eyed the collection Cravendy was haphazardly pulling from the potions cabinets and picked up a bulbous glass jar filled with a warm, golden liquid. This, she passed to Cravendy. "Drink two spoonfuls of this. Three if it doesn't take the edge off." she then nodded to the drawer below the cabinet. "You need a patch up? Afraid G'lewra is out so if you do, I can do it the mundane way. Or you can wait for her to aether-heal it."

“Could ye?” Cravs muttered as she gave Lin a curious stare. “I’m used to patchin’ myself up at this point but...I bet ye could get the ‘urt out faster.”

Cravendy grabbed the jar of golden liquid before heading back to take a seat. She twisted the medicine open and gave it a good sniff or two. "Bleh. Anyway, even if ye didn't do a thing, it's not every day ye survive an explosion. So, well, there's that. That and..." Cravs trailed off. "Well. I was surprised ye didn't use yer fancy math shields."

Aislinn paused, shooting the Seawolf a look of concern as she pulled the needed bandages and supplies from the drawers. The pain must be bad if Cravendy wasn't willing to wait. She went and joined the woman on the couch, setting a tray of the necessary items next to her. Careful not to meet the Seawolf's eye, she gave a half shrug at the observation. Silence reigned as she gingerly gestured for Cravendy to show her the burns. It filled the space until finally, with her time at the hot spring fresh in her mind, she let go a sigh and broke it. "I can't." she admitted, finally. "I can't use my shields or...any of it. Not since....not for awhile."

Cravendy unbuttoned her shirt, revealing bandages tied across her chest and around her back. There's also a significant scar on her lower abdomen that looks like it's healing weird, but healing nonetheless. "I applied ointment a few days ago, but it's 'ard to reapply it to my back. If ye could..."

Cravendy trailed off at Lin's admission, unsure what to say. She was originally going to poke fun at the situation, joke that Lin needs to practice the basics again. "Oh. Well, uh. What're ye doin' about that, then?"

The conversation was momentarily forgotten as Lin gathered the full measure of Cravendy's injuries. "Gods above, Cravendy. Why the hell didn't you come in the moment you got back? Or say -anything- out there in the field. I coulda done something -then-!" To be fair, Cravendy had done a decent job, all things considered. She obviously wasn't new at this. Even so, the oddly healing scar drew Aislinn's attention and she carefully inspected it closer, her aether sense stretching out. She could, at least, still do that much.

"I assumed everyone got just as roasted! Figured, I could still move, so I could treat my own wounds. Bah, this was a mistake..." Cravs leaned a little away from Lin, nervous to show vulnerability. But when she noticed Lin drawn to the scar on her stomach, Cravs brought a finger to her lips. "Risin' gave me that one. Don't tell 'er though."

Cravendy tugged her shirt around herself so she's wrapped from the elbow down for the sake of modesty, though it really doesn't add much. "Anyway, ye were sayin'? About yer magic bein' broken?"

Aislinn jerked her chin up as Cravendy began to draw away, the look on her face all but daring the Seawolf to just try and keep it up. Small as she was, she wasn't letting Cravendy out of there without proper treatment. "No. Waiting to come here was the mistake." she chided. She shook her head in exasperation at the mention of the weird wound coming from Rising.

She could only imagine what raucous bout had caused that. "I have this way about me," she said, quickly surmising that if she kept talking, Cravendy would stay put. "Of absorbing curses. Cursed energy, hexes..." she trailed off as she motioned for Cravendy to turn around so she could get the ointment on her back. "Turns out, a person can only do that for so long until all that bad energy needs a place to go. It's made my aether...a touch unstable. I *could* cast a spell. I just don't know what'll come out."

Cravendy saw the face Lin was making - the same sort a parent would give a fussy toddler - and pouted. But she was already here, bandages exposed, back turned and ointment ready. It'd be even more dumb to get up and leave after getting so far. "Fine, but be thorough, eh? I want to be better by the time we 'ave to get blown up again."

Cravendy obliged to whatever Lin needed her to do in order to work and listened quietly, face forward and staring unfocused into the room. "Weird. So if I put ye in my room, would ye absorb all of the bad vibes? In the east, there's all this shit about Feng Shui and harmonizin' with yer surroundings."

Cravendy glanced back at Lin to see if her joke landed.

Aislinn blanched at the thought, even though she knew it was more than likely that Cravendy was just being a smart-ass. "Who knows...probably. Apparently I've been walking around for years just absorbing ambient refuse. Now I'm full up. Or close to it. It's...painful to be close to anything like that. Like I'm burning up from the inside. That's when I first realized something wasn't right." she said quietly as she cut away the old bandage and carefully pulled it back with delicate fingers.

Cravendy let out a disappointed breath at Lin's reaction and went back to looking forward. "That sounds...painful. I wish I could 'elp, but don't know the first thing when it comes to magical ailments. But I will say, ye should 'ang back until ye get this under control. Last thing ye need is suckin' up more bad energy and makin' worse."

Cravendy scowled as she revisited what Lin had just said. Burning up. Absorbing curses. A worrisome theory forms. "'ey, uh. When did this start? Just casually one day?"

"That's me, a walking bad luck charm." Aislinn muttered as she dressed the new bandages and applied them to Cravendy's back. "Don't worry, I've asked someone to fill in for me on the next job in Coerthas while I try and get this problem sorted." The ointment was cooling and numbing all at the same time and would dull the pain of the burns as the medicinal herbs got to work healing the skin underneath. Aislinn was quiet long enough that it was obvious she was trying to decide how to skirt the question.

She started reassembling the supplies back on the tray. When she rose to her feet, she figured the only way any of this between her and Cravendy was going to work was if she stopped hedging and just be honest. No matter what. "Probably ramped up while we were trying to find the Helm." she said as she took the tray over to the sink.

Cravendy tensed when the ointment is first applied, but breathes a sigh of relief quickly after. "Ah, thanks, already feels better. And the person coverin' for ye...is it that string bean fella I saw ye talkin' with in the library? What's 'e like? Don't often see 'im around. Guy looks painfully serious, the kind to take offense at small talk."

Cravendy was silent for a while after, staring at the partition rod as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Finally, loudly and suddenly, she groaned. "Shit.”

"Shit! That really pisses me off!" Cravs stood up, shirt still dangling around her arms, and paced around in a circle. "Fuck! Goddamnit. Ahhh, bloody...Lin, why didn't ye say somethin' earlier?!"

Turning away from the basin, Aislinn leaned back against the sink with a faint air of amusement. "Aye, the string bean fella." she waved a hand up through the air. Anything more she might have had to say on the subject was lost in the wake of Cravendy's agitation. Caught up short, her eyes flicked away and then back to her. "Because I didn't know what the problem was. Only that these sudden burning sensations would flare up every so often. And then once I did, it was all said and done. What good would it have done to bring it up to you after the fact except to put you in a state like this?" she gestured to the anxious pacing the Seawolf was currently succumbing to.

Cravendy wanted badly to grab Lin by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, or maybe, just shake her until somehow she got better. Cravs nearly snarled, hearing reason in Lin's words but not having it. She clenched and unclenched her fists, not sure what to do with this sudden anger.

"Even worse, ye die a slow an’ painful death! I like to know when I've messed up so I can do somethin' about it!" Cravs huffed. You could practically see the steam hiss out of her ears.

In the face of Cravendy's anger, Aislinn breathed easy, slow breaths. Matching the Seawolf's temper had never worked for either of them in the past. It was on the tip of her tongue. The correction that if this would kill her, it wouldn't be slow but violent and sudden. She decided that really was besides the point right now. "How did -you- mess up? You weren't there. And what would you do about it?" she asked, trying to get Cravendy to see reason.

"Ye don't understand. This whole shitty business with the Helm...If I didn't suggest raidin' that Garlean ship. If I 'ad the balls to stick around and save my crew. If I didn't summon 'er, then, maybe..." Cravs breathed heavily until she was light-headed, but it worked to calm her down. She fell back down into the couch with a hand over her face to cover her reaction. "...Shit, I don't know. Maybe ye'd find some other stupid way to get yer fill of cursed energy and die anyway. I don't know. Maybe.”

Cravendy spoke, words muffled in her palm. "Lin, I. The fireball. That..." Cravs shook her head. "...doesn't matter. I don't know what I'll do about it, just that I'll do /something/ about it."

Aislinn heaved a sigh and pushed off from the sink, coming to join Cravendy on the couch. "And then you'd be dead, right? Isn't that how it all worked? Honestly, it was only a matter of time. It was always going to catch up to me at some point. The Helm business just ushered it along." she paused. "Which isn't to say that fireball that Wyda hit me with didn't hurt like hell. Hard not to take something like that personally." she said, in a rare attempt to lighten the mood.

She turned to look at Cravendy, mustering a smile. "Look. I'm working on it. A friend and I are tracking down someone in Ishgard that'll know about my problem. And...hopefully what to do about it."

Cravendy puffed up her chest, about to come up with a rebuttal to Lin's answer. As usual, she came up empty, and then similarly let out a tired sigh. "Feh, yer always so logical, even about all heavy shit like this. I....guess that's what I like ye for though. Just - just. I don't know. Leave the stupid to me."

Cravendy would take comfort in the fact that Lin was actively looking for someone to diagnose the issue, though this would linger in the back of her mind for long after. With or without Lin's blessings, she'd find a way to help. This was either going to lead to great success, or equally great disaster.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #rp snippets #Distortion #Flashpoint #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North

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