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januaryembrs · 1 year

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DEEP ARE THE SCARS | Din Djarin x Mandalorian!reader

Request: Hello! Congratulations on 1k my friend! You deserve it <3 I am wondering if you are comfortable with writing a din djarin x insecure/depressed reader. Thank you!!

description: Din and you have a conversation after one of his past lovers shows up, beauty and all.

Word count: 1.5k

trigger warnings: insecure feelings, scarring on face, established relationship, kissing, parental death mentioned, crime ridden planet mentioned?

main masterlist

Author’s note: it comes as no surprise to anyone this is another part of the KISS THE SCARS universe since I am now apparently very attached to these two and their love but this can be read separately if you like. READ KISS THE SCARS AND TOUCH THE SCARS here!

The world had always been cruel; you had learnt that at a young age. Your planet back was riddled with crime, and when it wasn’t, it was riddled with Empire sympathisers creating just as much chaos and tension between the people, resulting in your parents’ death and your Mando caburs [protector/guardian] to take you to their guild on Nevarro as their own.

Where you met him.

Din Djarin. The man who you had laid your life on the line for hundreds of times, who had shown you the furthest reaches of the galaxy that you never thought you would see in this lifetime or the next. Who understood you like no one else did, like no one ever had. Din, the one you knew you were going to marry when the time was right, though he had already proposed months before and neither of you had the money spare to settle down let alone afford a ceremony.

Who had seen you for exactly who you are, perhaps the first to ever do so with such love and unbridled adoration in his golden brown eyes.

It didn’t bother you so much; him seeing your face, your scars. It was ugly; you had always been aware of it, but since the day he had seen you without your helmet on, he had made you feel nothing but beautiful even with the unsightly tissue marring your face.

That is until you ran into her.

You had been collecting credits from a bounty at a nearby tavern, the buyer particularly pleased with your reputation and efficiency. Din was standing barely a few feet behind you waiting for you to finish with the man, when your ears pricked at a feminine voice.

“Mando!” You immediately turned around, seeing as people used the name for both of you. A tall, incredibly toned Togruta sauntered up to your fiance. The buyer seemed to fade into white noise, mumbling something about needing your service some time in the future, as you watched her throw her arms around Din’s neck. He straightened up awkwardly, but gently returned the hug with a large arm around her waist.

“Kuri,” He choked out, as if someone had punched him in his throat.

Do not act out, You barked at yourself, but your heart willed you to move towards the two like a panic alarm.

“It’s been years since I saw you! The moon solstice on Kashyyyk, wasn’t it?” The lady, her skin a blossom pink colour reached out with a small laugh and held his wrist dearly, “Oh, I suppose it was the morning after, wasn’t it?”

Do NOT act out.

But you were there. Stood behind her with your hands lingering on your dagger sheathed at your side, freshly sharpened this morning and ready to cut down any foe that challenged you. Especially the ones that tried to take what was yours.

Din’s helmet flicked over Kuri’s shoulder, and you could practically see his face begging you to not behave rashly over this. He hadn’t reciprocated one flirtatious advance in the few seconds she had arrived, so he held no blame. Even so, you supposed he didn’t want to deal with the consequences of uncontrolled jealousy.

The two of them went quiet for a second, and this Kuri woman seemed to notice his eyes were no longer on her. She turned to face his gaze and instead was confronted with you. A female Mandalorian decked out in pristine armour from many very successful bounties, guns and large blades at your hips. She didn’t need to see your face to know you did not look pleased.

And yet all you saw was perhaps the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever met. Her lekku were long and draped over her perk breasts, covered in white stripes and tiny, brown feathers. Her eyes were siren-like, mouth full and a naturally dark pink as if to attract your attention there first. Her red eyes flicked up and down your figure, faintly attempting to hide the fear that was clear as day in her face.

“Kuri, this is my riduur, Y/N,” Din said as you advanced on the woman slowly. She gulped dryly, stepping back though her face tried to seem poised.

“Is there a problem here?” You asked coldly, taking another step towards her before Din put his arm on your shoulder to halt you.

“No, j-just catching up with an old friend is all,” Kuri choked out, her eyes flicking to the door as if begging the Maker to send someone to save her.

“Charming,” You bit out, your voice lowering as you stared daggers at the woman who looked beautiful even when she was cowering in fear, “Though I suggest you leave now. You’d hate to find out what’ll happen if I catch up to you,”

And with that the woman fled the tavern without a single utterance of goodbye to her ‘old friend’. But you didn’t feel accomplished. In fact, you had never felt so low.

—

It was three days before he brought it up. You seemed sluggish, quiet at times when he was waiting for you to chime in with your own thoughts, granting him nothing but hums of agreement when prompted with a question. He knew you weren’t sleeping either. He heard the way you tossed around your bunk, even the blanket grating on your nerves for one reason or the next. You’d wake up the following morning, eyes heavy and face dull of life.

“Are you hungry?” Din tried to offer, as he had been trying for the past three days to get you to respond at all, but you simply shook your head.

“No thankyou,” Your voice was empty, your gaze zoned out as if you were miles away from him despite standing in front of him. And you were. He had never seen you so dead. It shook his resolve, and he couldn’t help himself from stroking a hair away from your face as an excuse to cup your cheek in his large, warm hand.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered, the voice coming out deep and rugged. But the tenderness was still there. It was always there when Din spoke to you.

“Nothing,” You murmured, though his hand caressing your cheek seemed to thaw away the cold you felt inside. Sighing, you nuzzled into his palm and shut your eyes gently, liking the way he pet you too much for your own good.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” Din whispered, bringing his thumb up to trace over where your scar lay at your lip like he always did when the two of you were this close. Yet you flinched as if his fingertips scolded you, as though him touching that part was as sensitive as the day it came to grace your face.

It had been years, but the pain of it cut just as deep.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” You asked, watching him frown and shrink back. Obviously, he had interpreted your question in the worst possible way, as you having second thoughts on this marriage that had not yet come. “That I was different?” You clarified.

He stared at you aghast. “No, never,” Din replied with such earnestness that it hurt your chest to hear him so disappointed, “What ever have I done to make you feel like that?”

“No, it's not you, it's just-” You huffed, getting frustrated with the words that seemed too difficult to produce, “Kuri is pretty,”

“Pretty terrified of you, you mean,” Din tried to joke but it fell flat when you glared at him. He chuckled at your mean face, bringing you in close and kissing you on the nose, “And what does that matter?”

“You were together weren’t you?” Your voice was hostile, something you couldn’t help. The Mandalorians never really taught you emotional regulation growing up, it was all fighting as a means to end a dispute.

He sighed, looking down at you with such love despite the fact you knew you were being selfish, “Not the way me and you are, no.”

“So? It doesn’t matter, it still proves you could be with any and every woman much prettier than me. Someone not tainted by a Tusken hound, someone with a perfect face, someone-”

“My sweet wife,” Din cut you off, his hand slipping into your hair to cradle the back of your head. His lips pressed to your brow this time, “I do not want anyone else,” You opened your mouth to interrupt him again, but he shut you up with a kiss there too, “You are strong, and beautiful, and powerful. I loved you just as you are even before you took off that helmet, and I’d love you even if the stars burnt out and the world went dark.” He kissed you once more on your lips, “You are the only one I see,”

You pouted, knowing he was being too kind to a scornful woman like you but melted into his embrace nonetheless. He petted your head kindly, kissing your hairline as you hugged him back, “Thankyou,” You said into his chest though he deciphered what you meant.

“I enjoy seeing you jealous. You had that poor woman running like a scared sand rabbit,” You pinched his ribs in retaliation though you felt him shaking with laughter. “Don’t worry, meshla. I’d show any man just the same manners if they tried to take away my sweet almost-wife,”

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raayllum · 5 months

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27 with Janaya?

27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?" Plus send me a number with a ship and i’ll write it (accepted ships are tdp canon ships + rarepairs (claudiez, sopreli, corvus/terry, sorvus)

Six months into her stay at New Aurea, Amaya breaks her wrist.

The attempt to take back Lux Aurea is far more costly for plenty of her and Janai's troops—no bodies to bury, the dead taken further into the dark army that had befallen their city—so Amaya cradles her wrist to her chest and orders a more formal retreat while Janai comforts her brother, who has never been more shaken.

It's only when Gren hugs her—too hard, too strong just in her current state—upon return back to camp that it becomes apparent to everyone else that something is wrong.

"Amaya!" Janai is by her side in a second, a cry of alarm seared on her lips. "What—oh."

"It's nothing," Amaya signs with her other hand, weak and clumsy. It's been a long time since she's had to practice signing one handed at all, and a lump forms in her throat.

She won't be able to fight like this. Won't be able to help with any further excursions into the city. Won't be able to spar with Janai or—

"Nonsense," Janai says, and then glances back at the surviving wounded behind her. She purses her lips, torn. She wants to help both of them, but... "I—"

"I'll rally Marcos and General Miyana," Gren chimes in, like he knows he'll probably have an even harder time getting Amaya to listen and rest; she pouts. "Get everyone settled while you take care of our general here."

Relief is evident on Janai's face. She squeezes his shoulder. "Thank you, Gren."

Janai is careful, trained in first aid as anyone on the frontlines would be, as she guides Amaya to one of the medical tents and after the medic has given the go ahead, begun to tend to and make a splint for the wrist. She leans in close enough that Amaya can smell the cinnamon on her breath as she ties the sling around her arm into a knot above her shoulder as well.

"There," she says, drawing back. "Much better."

It isn't. Even with advanced Sunfire healing, it takes four weeks for Amaya's wrist to heal. Four weeks of struggling to dress herself, four weeks of feeling vulnerable in just her tunic instead of her heavier armour, four weeks of watching her men spar and being regulated to the side lines, four weeks of straining her sling or splint because she forgets she can't sign with two hands, and—

It's one such morning of struggling with a thicker winter cloak, and its various buttons along the front, that makes bitter tears well up in her eyes.

She has always been able to do anything, all by herself. How could one little injury render her so inept, and weak, and—and—

The fluttering of her tent flap in her peripheral vision catches her attention, red brokered by a golden crown as Janai steps in. "Amaya?"

Amaya curses internally. To say she hasn't been avoiding Janai a little would be a lie. The queen is already so busy, and Amaya doesn't want to add more to her plate. They'd only been courting for a few weeks before the disastrous attempt to take back the city, and Amaya's broken wrist means that she hasn't been very fun the past month. No sparring, none of their newly discovered intimacy in the privacy of Janai's tent, no being able to help with the construction of the camp. Amaya hasn't even been able to help teach her how to sign that much, since it'd be pointless for Janai to learn a one-handed version just because...

Janai shouldn't have to see her be so weak. Amaya is stronger than this; or at least, she should be.

There is nowhere to hide, though, even as she wishes the white cloak would swallow her up and make her disappear.

Janai's smile fades once she sees her—because of course it does—and she steps forward. "Amaya?"

"I, uh..." Amaya presses her lips together. Her eyes burn. This is so stupid. "I couldn't get the cloak on right."

She watches as Janai's concern and confusion gives way to something... fonder. Warmer? A soft, wide grin spreads over her lover's face. "That's alright. Would you like some help?"

Amaya's eyes narrow. "Do I really have much of a choice?"

Janai laughs a little, stepping forward. She tucks the arm and its sling carefully under the broader sweep of the cloak, shortening the other side so that her uninjured hand will be easily visible even as Janai does up the buttons, one by one and smiling.

"You don't have to avoid me, you know," Janai says, glancing up at her. "All generals have their injuries. I broke my arm sparring with Karim once, when we were young. I was so embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed—"

"Love." Janai touches her face, brushing a thumb over the scar on her cheek. "You don't always have to be so strong all the time. You're not alone."

"But I—I know that," Amaya signs, lamely. She averts her gaze before glancing back to lip read.

"Do you?" Janai presses. The silence speaks for itself and she sighs, leaning up to give her a brief kiss. "Do you remember the first time I wept in front of you, about my sister?"

Janai had sobbed into her shoulder, the sun setting behind them. I shouldn't—Khessa was cruel to you—

This isn't about her, Amaya had countered firmly. This is about you.

"I do." She tries not to think about how much that sounds like another kind of vow, of remembrance. They are only two months in. But, at their age, with what they've been through...

"And I listened to you. I trusted you meant what you said. So trust me now: it is natural to want to carry your own weight. And you are. But also—let me carry you." Janai grasps her free hand, squeezing, so bright brown-eyed and caring that the lump in Amaya's throat dissipates. Something thuds dully in her heart, heavy and light in her chest. "I am going to carry you, okay? I want to. I know that we are stronger together, and I know somewhere deep down, you know that too—" A twinkle enters her eyes. "Or you wouldn't have the rule we can't be on the same team while sparring another pair."

Amaya puffs out a breathy laugh. Then she settles into, the steadiness of Janai's gaze, the calloused gentleness of her hands. She breaks away just long enough to sign, "Okay."

"Good." Janai smooths down the cloak and then steps back, taking her hand. "Now come with me to the camp meeting." She winks, heat seeping into her hand at will. "I'm sure I can keep you warm better than any old cloak, anyway."

#janaya #tdp amaya #amaya #requests #my fic #fic #canon compliant #tdp shorts #references to 'after darkness'#tdp #the dragon prince #post season three #also insp by her talk in 5x04 #tdp janaya #headcanons

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moonlightchn · 7 months

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The fox is giggling, smiling, flowers in her hand and her phone with a small speaker in her handbag as she knocks on the Alpha’s door. Jangmi had spent the day putting the final touches on her plans for Chan’s birthday, having messaged him earlier in the day and asked if he could make time for her tonight — the night before his birthday and the whole day. Getting him to take time off has gotten easier with time but she only uses her pleading for special occasions so it doesn’t lose its touch.

“Happy early birthday!” Jangmi cheers when Chan opens the door, holding out the flowers, lightly sprayed with her own perfume so that even if she’s not there, they’ll hold onto her smell for a few days and give Chan a smile — or so she hopes. “Are you ready?” She is basically bouncing up and down, trying so hard to not squeal at the plan she has and if the wolf knows her as well as she thinks he does then he’ll know that she’s gone above and beyond for this day. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve made sure that the start of your birthday is with me! Everyone else can have you after I’m done.”

Maybe it’s not the best time to be stuck in a car for a few hours, their scents intertwining and making her knee bounce as she keeps herself focused, Jangmi looks as the city flies by before they make it out into the more quieter parts of the city, where they can see the stars and not be disturbed by the city life they are constantly surrounded by.

“Alpha,” Jangmi chews her lip, looking at him and watching as he concentrates, “what’s your favourite food?” She asks, wanting to order it since it can be delivered to where they are. “Tonight is about you! I know… it’s not really something you’re used to but you’ve always taken care of me, you always are there and are the best person in my life — don’t tell Nini, but you have been there for me through so much and I… well, I wanted to give back.” It’s clear she’s nervous, whatever she has planned, it’s clear that it makes her nervous because it’s all for him. Just like everything he’s given her has shown how much he cares about her, she wants this night to show him how much he’s cared for. How much he’s loved.

They managed to make it to the location that Jangmi had given Chan, arriving just as dusk starts to fall and the stars start to shine. The light pollution not reaching this far out and showing them twinkling above, Jangmi smiles brightly as she grabs the blanket she had grabbed earlier and lays it on the ground before pulling Chan along to have him sit down. “Food is coming, company is here and your present will soon be presented!” The hybrid is practically vibrating as she sits with him, cuddling in and pointing to the stars, “oh!” She says, eyes widening as a shooting star appears in the sky. “Make a wish!” She knew the stars were going to be pretty tonight, having read something about a celestial event but she didn’t expect to be lucky to see a shooting star.

She’s talking fast, heart racing, scent a mix of everything she’s feeling but once they get there, talking a little and the food arriving, Jangmi starts to settle, starts to get more in the headspace for what she’s going to do for her Alpha, her best friend — her knight in shining armour.

Once the clock hits 12, her alarm ringing to alert her to it being midnight. “Happy birthday Alpha!” She smiles, climbing onto his lap and wrapping around him in the biggest hug he may have ever had, staying like that for a short while before giving him a kiss. “Okay! Time for your present.” Jangmi giggles as she kisses him once more, wiggling and squirming out of his tight hold so she can run to his car so she can turn the headlights on and lighten up her stage.

Putting her speaker and phone on the hood, the hybrid takes off the hoodie she was wearing and letting her hair down, Jangmi lets the song start and building up her confidence, she begins. She has been practicing this for a good month now, any chance she could, Jangmi had choreographed and practiced a dance to a song that she thought he might enjoy. A song she loved and thought it represented the soft tender love that Chan is capable of making someone feel. She knows he’s hidden a lot, opting to care for her rather than letting her care for him too but she hopes he knows that he’s deserving of love too. Especially on a day like his birthday, that’s something she wants him to know; she might not be his forever but she’s okay with being his present.

#jangmi 🦊 baby #submissions~

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b000mbayah · 2 years

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Hi! Can you do a yandere twice reacting to a female reader trying to escape from them?

Hello anon! I hope this is upto your standards? If not you can always request something else 😅

`･;`ﾟ♡,｡`;⁰💙:･ﾟ'*♡･`:*,';💙｡･;*:♡.･°.'⁰;*💙°,`'.*

Nayeon

You, trying to escape her? Your soulmate in every life? That's funny, don't make her laugh.

Nayeon would frown upon hearing you from the other side of the bedroom door as you speak to yourself.

Plans to escape, that's just mean. She's the only person in your life now… everyone else is gone, why would you try and go back to them?

She'd be upset, her caring and twisted heart would ache as her hand forms a tight fist unwillingly, her jaw clenching harder than a wrench bounded to a bolt.

Nayeon is your family now, it's only going to expand from here on out.

"This would make me cry, you know? Thank god I know you can't escape though"

Jeongyeon

Although Jeongyeon loves you with all her heart and more, she can't seem to figure out why you don't feel the same.

Yeah, with every perfect person there's a catch, yours is that you struggle to face the reality of things.

You're hers to save, she'll be your only Knight in shining armour and no one else will be near as long as Jeongyeon has you.

So when she'd noticed the indents on the steel sheets that covered every window and door you have access to, she freaked out.

Jeongyeon would just straight up panic, doubling the protection in your room to ensure your safety is prioritised.

That's what she's doing this for, right? Your safety.

"S-she won't escape! She can't! Double it, double it all! At whatever cost, I don't care. She can't leave me!"

Momo

She knew this would happen, how could you not? It's a basic instinct to try and flee your capture, no one wants to be kept for someone else's purpose.

However, that wouldn't stop momo from feeling down. Training you to love her is tiring and nothing seems to work, especially since you're still trying to escape after seven months.

Momo would often ponder if this is truly right, but then there's that voice, that voice that just blabbers on about how you're designed for each other, it's your destiny to be together.

That's what keeps her fueled, that's what keeps you locked up at bay.

"She just needs more training, she's like a stubborn child… yeah!"

Sana

Seeing you on the cameras, scurrying around like a lost mouse was just as infuriating as the whole taxi taxi situation.

She hates it.

Her eyes would darken with muggy clouds and would strike with bright lightning. Her normal mood had practically vanished and was now replaced with cold fire.

The fuel in her only burned with passion as she would stomp over to your room, unlocking every lock with sinister intentions.

Yes she loves you but you need to be put back in place inorder for her to continue your forced relationship.

"I'm doing this for us, why can't you just stay put and understand that?!"

Jihyo

Jihyo wouldn't do anything, she'd just sit there and think to herself, possibly getting overwhelmed with how much she cares for you and yet she gets nada back.

She couldn't harm you like most yanderes, she couldn't even look you in the eyes for that matter. Jihyo would just wheep in her sorrows.

As much as she hates to see you scared and afraid of her and this place, Jihyo could never let you go. It's something she can't seem to allow herself to do.

Afterall, she's done it, she's captured you after a year of debating, she can't undo it now. It will have to restart all over again if she does.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I really am, but we'll be happy one day, you'll be happy.. I can't wait for that day"

Mina

Mina sees this as yet another opportunity, another opportunity to get information out of you.

Mina is brutal with her punishments, giving you many mental health issues by using various strategies.

She's sure you won't mind it if she was to bring down someone you know, someone you've missed and just murder them infront of you.

Although, she's only brutal with your punishments as you're brutal with her feelings.

Did you think she'd enjoy seeing you plotting your escape, hearing it all in real time as she was just trying to deliver you your dinner?

Your punishments are based on how hurt she's feeling, think of it as a lesson.. you always seem to learn so this should be a one time thing too.. one that will give you nightmares for sure.

"Lookie looking y/n, it's the friend you've always talked about! They came to visit you…"

Dahyun

She'd immediately relocate you into her bedroom without a second thought. Dahyun knows what she's doing and she intends on pursuing that plan.

She'll keep you there, in her room, clinging to you all day long until you finally learn to love her.

You're hers to keep and she's yours to love. It's so simple, why couldn't you depict that already?

Dahyun would only become more determined, her newfound determination flowing through her pulsing veins at high speeds everytime she thinks of you, and that was a lot, 25/8 kind of lot.

"You're staying here until you learn to LOVE ME! We're going to LOVE EACH OTHER! got that!?"

Chaeyoung

Seeing your bleeding hands from your rather stupid attempts to dig your way out was cracking her slowly. It was painful for her to look at, as if she shared the same pain as you.

She'd clear her schedule and would shorten her work as much as she can so she could be with you more often.

She wouldn't accept you leaving her.

Chaeyoung is heartbroken, living without you isn't an option to her, it's like a massive game over.

Being alone isn't something she wants to experience yet again, you had lit her life up and she can't let that go. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Although she values you and loves you, she depends on you for herself. Call her selfish but she sees it as a learning experience for you both.

"Y-you can't leave y/n.. please, stop trying and just accept it, accept me, accept us"

Tzuyu

She's always watching, why would you willingly show yourself to the multiple cameras hidden within the room with you?

Tzuyu wouldn't do anything but she would sit there, confined on the outside as she studies your movements carefully.

She'd take mental notes until she got bored, leading to her eventually just falling asleep.

Who cares if you escape? Tzuyu loves a good cat and mouse game, she'll find you anyways..

You know that, and so does she.

"She's at it again? What a shame, we both know you'll never escape.."

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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The neither route was amazing! If you ever get ideas for it pls continue because i found it really interesting. You are a great writer.

Okay! This route actually made me very happy, but unfortunately, as much as I wanted to write it, I didn't know how exactly to do it? If that makes sense?

Context is HERE- The very end of the story is the Neither route.

TW: Anxiety, mentioned nightmares, mentioned Tubbo threatening Ranboo, guilt

I would also like to say that cuddling is platonic.

Left The Game (Plat!C!Ranboo x GN!Reader x Parental!C!Philza) Headcanon/Fic (Part 3???)

Ranboo Beloved joined the game.

(Y/n) (L/n) joined the game.

Michael Underscore-Beloved joined the game.

You and Ranboo tumbled out of the swirling portal and hit the ground with a hard thud, dirt and sand kicking up around you both upon impact.

Before you could comprehend what happened, a small squeal came from behind you and something slammed into your back, causing a groan to pull itself from your chest.

The monochrome male mumbled from beside you, his face practically buried in the grass which caused his words to be muffled.

His crown had rolled a few feet away, and his bags had opened as well, sending a few of his tools scattering, but everything seemed to be intact?

You slurred a mess of words before spitting out the sand that had gathered up in your mouth, attempting to tell the tall male that you were alive.

At least somewhat.

You both knew that you three had to drag yourselves into Phil's house, but the travel was so exhausting. Sleeping in the dirt sounded so tempting...

A quiet whine sounded from the weight on your back, reminding you that Michael had also come into the server with you.

When Ranboo got up, he picked the zombie piglin up from where he sat on your back, allowing you to get up.

You both, plus Michael who was resting on Ranboo's hip, began to pick up everything that had dropped out of the portal with you.

Once everything was gathered up, you three wandered through the iron doors of Philza's home and looked around curiously.

Two cats, one named Pog and one named Champ, came up to you both, chirping and meowing eagerly before pausing suddenly. They most likely expected Phil...

Michael gave a loud squealing noise at the sight of the cats and squirmed out of Ranboo's hold, running over to pet the cats.

Ranboo set off to find food in the chests, scribbling in his memory book the entire time.

You, on the other hand, dug through your bags to find materials you had brought to make three beds. One yellow, one grey and the other (f/c).

Once you placed each of them beside each other, Michael eagerly hopped into the middle one (the yellow one), while Ranboo walked over with plates of steamed carrots and baked potatoes.

"Stressed?" He mumbled softly, watching you stare down at your wrist where the tattoo of a heart with deep grooves in the center rested. The exact place the three hearts tattoos were, "I-I know, it's going to be a little different... But... Maybe it's a good different! ...Please, eat something and then get some sleep. Phil will check on us in the morning, and you know how he can get..."

With a smile, he handed you the plate and a fork before sitting on the floor at the foot of the beds with his own plate. Luckily he had given Michael a golden apple before he had gone to look for food, so the child was quietly drifting off to sleep, "Do... You really think that running was the best option?" You whispered, taking a bite of the vegetables.

"I... What else could we have done?" He frowned, setting his crown beside him before taking a bite of his own food, "We couldn't fight them... and they were definitely not going to let you go so easily. Hell... Tubbo... My own fiance was threatening to kill me because I was talking to you and caring for your burns!" He hissed, tilting his head back with his eyes pinched shut tightly, trying so hard not to cry.

You quickly walked over and moved his plate so it rested on his bed and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. The enderman hybrid eagerly returned the hug, crying into your shoulder so the fabric of your clothes soaked up his tears, "Should... I have just... Accepted their love, and maybe learn to love them back? For everyone's sake?" You whispered, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your composure.

"Absolutely not!" He yanked himself back from your shoulder to give you a glare, "That relationship would not have been healthy whether you loved either of them or not! They would've kept you locked away like a prized possession, and they would've severely hurt anyone who tried to interact with you!"

"I- I know... But..." You glanced down, but Ranboo tilted your head upwards so you were looking at him, but you still avoided eye contact so it didn't make him uncomfortable, "Your... Your relationship..."

Ranboo sighed, "I know. But, I'd rather that he showed me his true colours and I divorced him again for that, rather than him manipulating someone into loving him... and putting everyone else in danger in response. Now. We have a lot to do tomorrow. Finish eating and get some sleep."

The next morning, Philza practically slammed open the iron doors to his own house, looking a tad bit out of breath and a bit frazzled.

Once he saw you, Michael and Ranboo curled up in a small cuddle pile on the three different coloured beds, he gave a loud sigh of relief and adjusted his striped bucket hat.

Thankfully, the father of Minecraft let you three sleep for a little while before waking you and Ranboo up around noon.

First, he gave you both spare elytra's and so you could keep up with his massive black avian wings.

Ranboo's turned into massive black and purple dragon wings, while yours turned into (f/c) (f/a) wings.

Phil showed you both the end realm and his Endlantis, which he gave Ranboo special water protection potions so he could swim through the waters as well.

This man basically treated you three as if you were his own children!

Taught you how to fly.

Taught you how to cook properly.

Everything!

And basically survive with bare minimums.

Once you both got better at flying, a few months later, Philza rEAAALLY wanted to take you to the massive project he called Nether Void.

"Ready, mates?" Philza walked over and ruffled the hair on both your and Ranboo's heads with a soft smile, somehow unbothered by the blistering heat of the hellscape, "Double check your potions, armour durability and food supply."

Ranboo mostly stopped wearing his crown because it had problems staying on when he flew and because it had a lot of memories tied to it, so he didn't want it damaged. He had also stopped wearing his tux, instead, he wore plain black pants and a white ruffled poet shirt with a purple short cape that had a golden trim and gold chains, which was a gift from Philza.

You on the other hand wore something similar but with a(n) (f/c) poet shirt and a(n) (f/c) and gold cape. Your cape was also a gift from the fatherly figure as well, and so was the (f/c) infinity scarf type fabric wrapped around your shoulder over your chest that helped you carry and protect Michael as you flew, "Yep, we're ready to go, Mr. Dadza Minecraft!" You gave him a mock salute with a smile as he laughed.

Ranboo checked on Michael who was nibbling on a golden apple before he helped put the zombie piglin child into your scarf carrier, "Yeah, everyone seems safe!" He chirped softly as he adjusted his cape to spread his wings, shaking them out a bit in the heat of the lava.

"Let's go!" You cheered softly once you made sure Michael was 100% secure and wouldn't fall out somehow, "Food is stocked up and in my bag, as well as Regen and Health pots, and a first aid kit and two extra totems."

Philza gave you a proud father smile and took off first, hovering in the air for a few seconds as he waited for both of you to catch up. Thankfully, he knew very well that you both likely would never be able to catch up to his skill in flying as he had been born with massive feathered wings hundreds of years ago. You and Ranboo had never been into the air until a few months ago. Once you both caught up, he took off and soared through the burning hot nether.

Phil loved telling you both the stories of the lands. The Blaze Empress who lived in the Quartress, the foolish Ender King...

You and Ranboo always listened to his stories with such eagerness, often asking him to retell the stories when you were having a bad day or just wanted to relax.

The elder male actually greatly enjoyed having two children to raise again, even if he didn't have the best track record with sane children.

When he did leave to go to the DreamSMP, he would always promise you both that he would be safe and NEVER left without saying goodbye, even if he was angry or upset with either one of you.

He never wants his last words to someone to be filled with anger or hatred.

Somedays he would go to the SMP, you and Ranboo would not leave the house, just out of fear that he wouldn't come back, or that Tubbo and Tommy would come out instead of Phil.

Both you and Ranboo were plagued by nightmares very often for the first few weeks and woke up in tears in the middle of the night.

As old as Phil was, he had absolutely no problems comforting either of you in the middle of the night, same with Ranboo.

"Here mates..." He whispered softly as he handed you a hot beverage and gave Ranboo a grass block, "You're safe here... I promise. I would have to allow either of them into the server, and that would never happen... Especially now that I know what kind of people my sons are..."

You sighed and put your hand on Ranboo's back as he sobbed into your shoulder, using the fabric of his shirt to dry his tears before they burned his skin, "I know... I know... There's just the overwhelming fear that suddenly I'll wake up and I'll be back in the SMP and-and..." You decided not to finish your sentence, nuzzling into Ranboo's hair to try and keep yourself calm.

"Last I checked... Techno scared them off from the Tundra... But I haven't been in Snowchester or near the Embassy enough to know what Tubbo and Tommy are doing. But Ghostbur said that Tubbo has gone absolutely nuts... And Sam had to steal the nukes so Tubbo wouldn't destroy anything else... He also said Tommy on the other hand hasn't done anything except visit Dream in prison constantly."

Ranboo gave a shaky sigh and glanced over at Michael, most likely extremely happy that he brought his child along so he didn't have to deal with a psychotic Tubbo... Hell, he didn't know what would've happened to his kid if he did leave him. The thought caused him to give a small sob and hide his face again, holding onto you tighter and practically pulling your smaller form into his lap, trying to silently promise you safety and using you to remind him that he wasn't alone.

"We... we can't thank you enough, Phil... Really... You taught us so many life skills, kept us safe and promised us a safe haven... Allowed us to your private server..." You whispered, before feeling the warm cup being taken from your hand before a hand replaced it.

"Honestly... It's the least I can do to protect you both... You two have become two children to me, and, while I haven't been able to raise you from children like Techno, Wil and Tommy..." He didn't continue his sentence, struggling to form sentences, but both you and Ranboo understood and were quick to yank him into your little cuddle pile/hug, the two of you eagerly hugging him.

"Thank you... Dadza..."

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

— GETO SUGURU || RELY ON ME

↳ featuring : geto suguru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of murder, grammar issues and spoilers for non-manga readers

↳ spoiler warnings : chapter 65-79 spoilers

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 19 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 1.8k

↳ request : Hello, I love your Cafe! I was wondering if I could possibly request headcanons or a scenario about a female jujutsu sorcerer who can sense emotions and starts hanging out with Geto a lot right after everything with Riko happened to try to help him mentally and maybe they start dating after they get closer?

↳ barista’s notes : once again, barista violettelueur is back again with another imagine and today it is staring geto suguru ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ and the next one pending will be for KUGISAKI NOBARA ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ right now, it is 2am but i had a nap earlier, so i can’t get back to sleep even though my online classes start at 9:10....hahahaha ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too clingy with me?”

Slyly shifting your eyes to the side, you began to gape at the tall sorcerer right beside you, as he continued to move forward to wherever he was going - to be honest, he didn’t even know himself.

“And do you have a problem with that? I don’t see you pushing me away,” you teasingly commented as you let out a little giggle trying to lighten up the sombre atmosphere that was clouding around you and Geto at this current moment in time.

Unbeknownst to your classmate, you could feel the suffocating pressure that he was carrying in his heart, suffocating to the point where you were nearly choking onto the curse energy that you were sensing. However, you couldn’t blame him at all for feeling this way all.

Ever since the assassination of the Star Plasma Vessel, Geto couldn’t help but feel a sense of heavy guilt surrounding him after the killing of Amanai Riko and with the situation of Gojo becoming stronger than he had anticipated, Geto started to feel more isolated than ever.

Well, he would've if it wasn’t for your constant presence.

To be completely honest, Geto was perplexed on what type of sorcerer you were. You never really revealed what your cursed technique was to anyone but knew you were extremely skilled with cursed weapons and tools, to the point where you were able to embed your curse energy and create your own through craftsmanship as a talented armourer. However, he was still intrigued by what you were naturally skilled at.

“Y/N, what type of sorcerer are you?” Geto asked in a curious tone leading you to halt for a quick second, as you began to think about what you could answer to the sorcerer who was now directly in front of you.

How could you answer?

Actually, were you even allowed to answer?

Even though it seemed useless to some sorcerers, your curse technique was the ability to sense the emotions of humans, curses and sorcerers and though it seemed to be simple, your technique was an extremely rare ability due to your whole existence used to help reduce the number of curses being formed - you were fundamentally the possible sole solution of the extinction of curses, especially ones that could develop into special grade curses.

However, you weren’t allowed to inform Geto that let alone anyone else that you known of. You were informed by Yaga sensei as well as the higher-ups to not tell anyone about it.

“I’m just a weapons specialist Suguru, I thought you already knew that,” you answered with a smile on your face, as you walked closer to catch up with him before linking your arm with his to keep him close to you leading to the intense curse energy around you to lighten its hold on you slighty causing a small but noticeable smile to form on your face.

“I’m not as strong as you, but I know how to deal with people, so rely on me a bit more aye?” you rhetorically asked as you began to drag Geto to wherever you wanted, needing to make sure he was going to be alright and nothing was going to happen to him later on.

Surprised, Geto couldn’t help but stare at the back of your head with widened eyes as he continued to let you take him to where you wanted to take him. Geto didn’t know why but he couldn’t help but draw a tiny smile on his face as he also let out a light laugh.

“Yeah, I rely on you a bit more often Y/N”

ꕥ

“Then we should just kill all non-shamans”

Widening your eyes in complete horror, you suddenly became frozen as you stood beside the doorway that would lead you to the very conversation that Geto and special-grade sorcerer Tsukumo Yuki were having right now.

Leaning your body against the wall, you tried to balance yourself as the feeling in your legs slowly began to give away with the intentions of not wanting to make any noise of revealing that you were eavesdropping the horrific statement your friend had suddenly made.

‘Kill all non-shamans, is he crazy?’

“Geto-kun, that’s a decent plan,” Yuki mentioned causing you to turn your head to the side of the entrance with pure shock as her comment was not helping with the situation at all, as well as the intense amount of antagonistic curse energy that was practically choking you at this point leading to the feeling of your throat agonisingly closing up due to the extreme field of negative emotions that was being manifested between the two strong sorcerers.

“However, there is no need for that when we have L/N around,” Yuki suddenly mentioned, causing Geto to look at her with confusion to which lead her to continue with her explanation by saying, “well her curse technique is extremely powerful since she can sense emotions and that lead to the reduction of curses being formed, haven’t you notice the lack of mission you been sent on recently?”.

Thinking about her question, Geto couldn’t help but suddenly realise that Yuki was correct at the fact that he had been on little to no missions recently. Was it because of you? Curse technique that can sense emotions? Was that why you have been by his side for quite some time?

“Even though Gojo is the reason why there is a balance in the world, L/N is the reason why there is peace you know, but that’s a story for another time,” Yuki huffed as she suddenly got up from the seat before placing on her leather jacket. “I gotta thank her though, she is the reason why I get to go aboard so many times, maybe I should take her to Paris as a ‘thank you’ gift?” Yuki questioned herself while pointing her chin with her index finger to emphasise her thoughts before coming to the sudden realisation of something.

“You never told me your answer to my question,” Yuki mentioned with a small pout, leading to Geto looking at the woman with a bewildered expression on his face leading to her to then ask, “what kind of woman is your type?”.

Looking at the special grade sorcerer with a blank expression, he couldn’t suddenly think about the comment you had said to him earlier.

“I’m not as strong as you, but I know how to deal with people, so rely on me a bit more aye?”

‘What a liar,’ Geto thought as he smiled at the small but fond memory, ‘you are strong Y/N’

“My type of woman is someone that I know I can rely on”

ꕥ

Feeling a sense of coldness upon his cheek, Geto couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to see you pressing a cold water bottle to his face as you began to sip on the can of cold coffee that you have brought from one of the vending machines that were nearest to the track field where you and Geto were training at.

“Thanks,” Geto said with gratitude as he took the bottle from your grasp before taking a quick gulp of the refreshing liquid that was smoothing his body from the disgusting heat and sweat that he had produced from fighting with you.

Geto couldn’t lie to himself. He had completely forgotten how masterful you were with your weapons as well as how physically strong you were when not using your curse energy. You were really the ideal sorcerer in some ways even when your curse technique had nothing to do with exorcising curses at all. Geto really admired you for that.

“Are you going to continue staring?” you casually asked, as you tilted your head slightly to take a quick peek at him before cheekily commenting “am I that beautiful~” leading you to laugh at your own comment to which Geto followed suit.

“You’re beginning to act like Satoru,” Geto mentioned, leading you to express a concerned look as you didn’t want to act like your annoying classmate, leading Geto to laugh once again at your grimace expression causing you to turn to him with a soften look.

From what you could sense right now, the curse energy that was swimming around you and Geto was tranquil to the point where it was peaceful. From what you could remember from the beginning, this situation was the complete opposite since the incident and that put nothing but a slight warmth within your heart, the curse energy back then was suffocating which was contrasting to this feeling that could nearly put you to sleep. Geto has made so much progress during the few months that had passed but what surprised you to most was how fast he had made progress, even after the little situation with Yuki.

‘She really had to snake out my technique huh?’

“Are you going to continue staring at me? Am I that handsome~” Geto then teasing asked, leading you to snap out of your thoughts before realising that he was mocking you slightly from your earlier comment. However, before you could either counter him with your annoyance, you suddenly notice the sorcerer lean forward towards you causing you to slightly step back before feeling a light touch on your forehead.

Pulling away, Geto managed to get a glimpse of your surprised expression with a hint of pink hues on your face before letting out a cheeky giggle. “Maybe you’re not like Satoru, he’s not the shy type anyway,” Geto playfully mentioned before grabbing your hand that wasn’t holding the coffee as he began to drag you away from the track field where you both were training at before.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Geto softly said with a hint of appreciation as he continued with, “rely on me also okay?”

Feeling shy, you looked down to your connecting hands before tightening the hold as the curse energy that surrounded you both was now feeling more gentle and tender than it had ever been before. However, you still had some questions in mind.

“HEY! You can’t just kiss my forehead and grab my hand like I ain’t going to ask questions Suguru?” you exclaimed, as you began to frantically shake your interlocking hands in a slight panic causing Geto to look at you with surprised expression before laughing loudly at your sudden outburst.

Even though Geto knew you since the beginning of his enrolment at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, he had never seemed you once looked so flustered like you did right now. You were always the calm one between him, Gojo and Ieiri, so this was a whole new sight to him.

Tightening the grip of your hand, you crazy shaking came to a slight pause as Geto began to slowly but tenderly pull your hand towards him, only to then land a light kiss on the back of it leading to the once pink hues that were painting on your cheek to become rose red.

“Rely on me to make you blush, okay girlfriend~?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen geto #jjk geto suguru #jjk geto #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru imagine #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Just The Way You Are

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: horns and fangs

Jaskier has never understood why people call witchers monsters. It's true, they're different, but so are cats and dogs and horses and people like them just fine. Jaskier just sees Geralt as Geralt and always has. He's no different than any other person he's met - a little more coordinated and he dies a little less easy - but otherwise the same. People are so cruel and dismissive of Witchers, but Jaskier is a firm believer that they deserve nice things as much as the next person, maybe even more, and so, he decides to take it upon himself to do nice things for Geralt. Like surprise him in Kaedwen when he comes down from the keep.

Only it turns out Jaskier is the one to get a surprise. He's never understood why people call Witchers monsters. Not until now.

He spots the hooded figure passing between shops and he's sure it's Geralt, but he doesn't want to approach until he's absolutely certain. So he sneaks between the buildings, trying to get ahead of him and catch a glimpse of his face. Maybe-Geralt pauses in front of a stall and for a moment Jaskier thinks he's stopping to buy something, so he sneaks away, but when he comes around the other side of the house, he stops dead.

His breath catches and for a second, he's certain that even his heart stops beating.

The man in the market is certainly Geralt, he knows that now, but sprouting from the top of his head are two thick, curled horns. He tries to call out, but his mouth is dry and maybe it's for the best because Geralt’s expression darkens suddenly and he sniffs at the air.

For the first time, Jaskier considers that maybe Geralt meets him further south for a reason. Maybe he doesn't want Jaskier to see him like this, he obviously takes measures to ensure that he doesn't. Fuck. He's gone and fucked this up, too.

Ducking back behind the building, Jaskier holds his breath, hoping that Geralt hasn't caught his scent. He knows if he has there's nothing for it, he's caught, but maybe-

"Jaskier."

Geralt's voice is low, right on the edge of a growl, and Jaskier winces. When he looks over, the hood is back in place, but Geralt's teeth are bared and they're barely teeth at all - at least the canines - more like fangs. He swallows hard and risks a glance up at his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt demands, moving at once to pin Jaskier's shoulders against the wall. Jaskier doesn't know what to say. He shifts uncomfortably, unwilling to look Geralt in the face.

It's not the first time Geralt's been upset with him, but this time Jaskier’s intentions were genuine, he just didn't think it through all the way. Or rather, he hadn't considered that after fifteen years together, there are still things Geralt keeps from him. Deflated, Jaskier wrenches out of his grasp and picks up the bag he dropped when Geralt shoved him. He's embarrassed, feels like an idiot for thinking Geralt might be happy to see him and now on top of it, he's intruded on something he was never supposed to see.

Geralt doesn't stop him from walking away and Jaskier tries not to think too much about that.

He books a room at the inn and doesn't bother to go down for dinner. He doesn't know what to do with himself, because if he can't travel with Geralt - and he certainly didn't seem like he was happy to see him - what can he do? Certainly not go back to Oxenfurt and admit to all his peers that yet again, he was a fool and thought someone cared when they didn't.

It's just that fifteen years is a long time. Nearly half his life. And for Geralt who rarely lets himself form attachments well, Jaskier had thought maybe it meant something to Geralt. It did to him.

Jaskier doesn't even bother to put his things away before flopping onto the bed and staring up at the beams. Geralt had been so angry. He had just wanted to do something nice, he should have known showing up himself would not be welcome. But maybe this is for the best, maybe everyone was right when they told him he couldn't follow Geralt around forever.

But he had wanted to. For the last fifteen years of his life, Jaskier has wanted nothing more than to have Geralt in his life, even if nothing ever comes of it. He's never been greedy, never wanted more than he thought Geralt would be willing to give. And look where it's gotten him? Geralt doesn't even trust him enough to show him what he really looks like.

Geralt lingers as Jaskier hurries off away from him, and he can hardly blame him. He wouldn't stay either if he’d found out the person he'd been travelling with was a monster. Jaskier tries to convince him he's not, but the thought has always been there, nagging at him. He just hasn't seen you, it says and Geralt knows it's true. He is a monster. Whatever happened to him during that second round of trials took away the remaining sliver of humanity. He'd tried so hard to hide it, to try and keep Jaskier for just a little longer, but Jaskier shows up here and how is he supposed to plan for that?

And what is Jaskier doing here in the first place? Geralt needs this time to himself. Needs a chance to hole up and file down the horns and the fangs, to make himself presentable. To visit the brothel before returning to the torture that is travelling with Jaskier.

Jaskier showing up here had thrown him off. He'd been overcome with shock and confusion and fear. Fear that Jaskier would see him like this and hate him. Fear that this one minor incident would ruin everything he's worked so hard for.

Fear had taken over and he had reacted... badly. It's no wonder Jaskier had left him there, no wonder he didn't want to be seen with him when the first time Jaskier sees what he really looks like, he practically attacks him. Fuck, he really is the monster everyone always says he is.

After everything Jaskier has done to try and prove to the world that Witchers have been given a bad name, that they're not mindless, emotionless killing machines, this is how he repays him. He has to fix this, if not for him then for his brothers' reputation and for Jaskier's peace of mind. The last thing he wants is for Jaskier to think he's in any danger with him. With a sigh, he pulls his pack higher on his shoulder and heads toward the inn.

He catches the scent of Jaskier's perfume as soon as he walks through the door and it tugs at something in his chest. It's bright and floral, but there's a tinge of despair, of sadness intertwined with it. It's not fear though, and while Geralt struggles to comprehend that, the innkeeper passes over a key. Geralt follows the directions to his own room, ridding himself of his pack and swords. He strips his armour, leaving him in only a thin black shirt and his trousers. Before he leaves the room, he pulls his travelling cloak back over his head and shoulders.

He finds Jaskier's room in a matter of minutes and stands outside the door. He's faced griffins and fiends and hired assassins and none have come close to the fear that surges through him now. Because if he failed there, he just died, plain and simple; a fitting end for a Witcher. If he fails now, he loses the person most important to him. He's glad Jaskier isn't the one with heightened senses, glad that he doesn't know how long Geralt stands outside the door before lifting to hand to knock.

But he does. And as soon as he does, Geralt’s chest tightens and he wants to leave. There's a shuffling from within and then the door pulls in and Jaskier is right there. It catches him off guard and before he can consider what Jaskier might be thinking, he blurts out,

"Let me explain," and then doesn't know what to say. What do you say? What are you supposed to say to a man who's known you half his life and only now learns you have horns. Geralt shifts, looking at him. Jaskier says nothing, but he moves aside, letting Geralt come into the room. The door shuts behind him and a wave of fear crashes down over him.

Jaskier looks sad, confused, hurt. He doesn't know where to start.

"I know you're mad and I understand-"

"You're the one who slammed me into a building," Jaskier chokes. The anger is there, Geralt expected it, but it's being smothered by something else, something stronger, like ivy around a sapling.

"I'm sorry," he winces. He is. He never meant to hurt Jaskier, not emotionally and certainly not physically. "I was... scared. I saw you and I didn't know what to do." His shoulders slump and he turns to look out the window, jaw clenched. "You're not supposed to see me like this."

"And why not?" Jaskier asks. The anger is toned down slightly, the other feeling still there but not so harsh. Geralt doesn't like it, doesn't like the feeling of it or the way it makes Jaskier's voice breaks and he wishes it would go away all together, but he doesn't know how to do that.

"I'm- Look at me, Jaskier. I'm a monster. I'm exactly what they say I am. A mutant, a freak." The anger scent remains, but it takes a sharp turn, twisting into something much more recognizable. Something he knows from tavern brawls and holding Jaskier back when they’re on the road when someone makes a snide comment.

"You absolutely are not. You're a liar and a terrible friend, but you're not a monster."

"What-"

"Why did you keep this from me?" Jaskier asks, that other feeling creeping up to regain dominance.

"I thought you'd-" Geralt drops his chin, staring at the floorboards between them. There's a crack down the center of one of them and he focuses on that instead of the sound of Jaskier's voice. "You were the only one who stuck around. You met me during the spring when they're shaved down and I- I was selfish."

"How?" Jaskier prompts. He sounds impatient, but excited, like he's anticipated what Geralt is going to say. But if he had, he wouldn't be happy about it.

"I didn't want you to hate me. I didn't want you to leave me. So I hid it from you. I became good at keeping them filed low during the warmer months and let them grow out during the winter. I didn't- it's why I never asked you to join me in Kaer Morhen."

Jaskier squints at him, disbelieving or confused, he's not sure, but the look is piercing and Geralt feels transparent under it, like Jaskier can tell every thought in his head. But he knows how that feels and this is not it. Jaskier is making assumptions if anything. Not that that thought is any less horrifying under the circumstances.

"So let me get this straight," Jaskier says, calmly, cooly. Too calm. "You once rescued me from the den of an incubus you thought would kill me if he tried to fuck me. Again, I might add. If you recall you walked in in the middle of it. You stopped me from leaving the bar with a vampiress one time because, and I quote, you don't need any help losing blood, and one time you intentionally gave me space to continue a quite lovely conversation with a, particularly amenable centaur. But you thought horns were a bit too much for me? Is that what I'm to understand Geralt?"

He doesn't know what to say to that. It's not just the horns, he supposes. But he doesn't need to give Jaskier another reason not to travel with him. Melitele knows there are enough of those already.

"Am I to believe that you're daft enough to believe that after fifteen years of traipsing over the continent with you, of writing you songs and cooking you supper and tending to your wounds- that horns would be the final straw? Geralt if you haven't noticed I've fucked dozens of people who are, to put it indelicately, much less human than you."

Geralt isn't sure how Jaskier's sex life is relevant, but he says nothing.

"I actually like them," Jaskier says, eyeing the hood. "Could I... look at them?"

Reluctantly, Geralt reaches up and pushes the hood back. The air feels cool on his head and he feels incredibly exposed letting Jaskier see him like this, but he shuts his eyes and ducks his head as Jaskier takes a step toward him.

"Can I touch?"

The air is punched from Geralt's lungs with that one simple question and he nods slowly, tucking his chin a little closer into his chest. Jaskier brushes his fingers along the curve of the left horn and the only way Geralt knows he's touching him is the way he hums with intrigue, similar to the way he hums at his lute when it's newly strung. He takes his time, reaching right down to the base and touching the more sensitive skin there. It doesn't hurt, but it ignites Geralt's instinct to protect himself, makes him feel like he should pull away, hide this from Jaskier again.

When Jaskier touches his head, he does. He's not sure what it is about the touch, maybe that he can fully feel it, but it snaps his restraint and he pulls back, breathless.

"Sorry," Jaskier whispers, "did it hurt?"

"No," Geralt admits, "just... unusual. No one's ever touched them before. Maybe Eskel when he helped me file them down the first few times."

"Why don't we," Jakier suggests, "come sit on the bed, take your cloak and your boots off. I'd like to get a better look at them. if that's okay?"

Geralt nods and Jaskier's hands are on him before he removes his cloak himself. He undoes the clasp with no effort, draping the cloak over his arm before directing Geralt to the bed. This is... not at all how he expected this to go down, but at least Jaskier hasn't turned him away yet. He toes off his boots and sits back on the mattress, leaning against the wall with his feet at the edge.

In a moment, Jaskier climbs up over him, making himself perfectly at home in Geralt's lap.

"There," he says proudly, "it's much easier to see like this and you won't' end up with a crick in your neck." Geralt remains silent, worried that he doesn't know the situation well enough to comment.

Jaskier's hands slip into his hair again, fingers looping around the base of both horns and he feels the faint tug and Jaskier slips up, following the curve of them with his hands.

"Do you brothers have them?" he asks. Geralt shakes his head.

"Second trials" he explains. "Lost the pigment in my hair and grew fucking horns."

"I like them."

Jaskier continues his ministrations, apparently happy to just sit and touch and nothing else. And Geralt relaxes under the touch, even if he can barely feel it. Jaskier isn't angry with him, doesn't hate him, and for now, that can be enough, But the air between them grows thick. He doesn't notice it right away, too preoccupied with Jaskier touching his horns, but the scent is what alerts him. Spicy, earthy, floral.

It's nice, he thinks absently, familiar and enticing. But he doesn't think too much about it. Not until Jaskier's little hums become softer, sweeter. The realization hits him so abruptly he nearly snaps his head back up, but he doesn't want to give Jaskier any more reason to leave him, although, maybe that's not as much of a problem as he thought.

"Are you... aroused by this?"

Jaskier huffs a little laugh, awkward, but not uncomfortable. "I just think they're sexy."

"Oh."

"Why, does it turn you on?"

"No," Geralt snorts, "I can barely feel it. If I could filing them down would be excruciating."

"Right," Jaskier realizes and Geralt can sense the thinly veiled horror in his voice."Anything else I should know about?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Geralt opens his mouth and pulls his lip back. He'd be horrified at the way Jaskier gasps if he couldn't smell the arousal wafting off of him.

"Fuck, Geralt, that's-" he reaches out, pressing the pad of his thumb to the point of Geralt's fang and smiles. It's a faint sort of thing, more amusing than outright joy, but he's fascinated and right now that's good enough.

Jaskier's finger slips along his bottom teeth, but Geralt shifts under him, dislodging him, and Jaskier's fingers brush his bottom lip before slipping forward, sliding between his lips and pressing against his tongue. Geralt's skin prickles just at the thought of it and when he looks up at Jaskier, he finds him wide-eyed and intrigued.

Their eyes meet and Jaskier holds his gaze. Then, cautiously, withdraws his fingers and runs them along the swell of Geralt's bottom lip, eyes dropping to watch the way they press against it.

"Geralt?" he whispers and Geralt realizes he's been so focused on Jaskier's fingers that he hasn't been paying attention to anything else. He's surprised to find he's got his hands settled on Jaskier's hips. His eyes flick down to his hands, then quickly back up to Jaskier's. The moment they meet again, his willpower snaps and he hauls Jaskier forward, one hand slipping to the back of his head to guide him.

The moment their lips collide, Geralt realizes this was inevitable. That one day Jaskier was bound to find out and want to know about them. His reaction though, Geralt never could have anticipated.

Geralt is... kissing him. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with what his body has already realized and he breaks the kiss with a jolt.

"You're not mad at me," he pants and Geralt just stares at him for a moment.

"No, I told you, I was afraid-"

"That I'd leave you." Jaskier finishes. Geralt nods. "I'd never leave you." He leans in again, trying for a softer, gentler kiss, but the way Geralt's hands press against him sends sparks across his skin.

Jaskier leans into it, parting his lips to deepen the kiss and Geralt's hand slips to his waist, one big, warm hand curling around his side. He pushes into the touch. It's not often he feels small or delicate with a lover, but Geralt does that for him and it's hotter than it has any right to be.

He parts his lips, deepening the kiss and Geralt moans softly against him. It's the most beautiful sound Jaskier has ever heard and he responds in kind, desperate to hear that sound again.

When they part again, Jaskier's breathing heavily and, much to his delight, so is Geralt. He leans back a little, far enough to look at Geralt's face, but not far enough to keep from touching him. He takes in the golden eyes staring back at him, the point of his teeth where Geralt's lips are parted, and the horns. Fuck, Geralt must be an idiot to think he wouldn't want him like this.

"Can I touch you- the rest of you?" he asks and Geralt grunts a yes, surging forward to hold him again.

Geralt gets both arms around him this time, lifting him off the mattress and rising to his knees. He shifts them so he's facing the head of the bed and as he settles, gently lays Jaskier back against the mattress. His head hits the pillow and Geralt settles between his thighs, slipping his hands over Jaskier's hips.

Jaskier reaches up to him, running his hands over Geralt's shoulders, down his arms. He follows the lines of his chest through his shirt, straight down to his trousers where he tugs the fabric free. His fingers slip beneath it and he sighs at the warmth of Geralt's skin on his fingertips. Geralt shudders against him and it gives Jaskier the encouragement he needs. Carefully, he curls his hands around the hem of Geralt's shirt, lifting it up and tugging it over his head.

He inhales sharply and Geralt pulls back just slightly. Jaskier is quick to explain his misunderstanding, slipping his hands around the back of Geralt's neck and sliding them down his shoulders.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

"You've seen me naked a dozen times this week, Jaskier."

"Not like this."

And it's true. He's seen Geralt naked more times than he can count and he knows Geralt is sexy, knows the lines of his chest better than he should for never having seen them up close, but he's never seen him like this. Geralt is soft like this, so close, and Jaskier is allowed to touch him, Jaskier is allowed to look.

He brushes his fingertips over his nipples. Geralt gives a little gasp and his eyelids flutter.

"Wouldn't think it makes a difference," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier realizes he thinks he's talking about the horns.

"Oh it does, my darling, but I mean like this," he says, pulling Geralt lower over him. "Where I'm allowed to touch you."

"You're always allowed," Geralt mumbles, chin dripping to inadvertently give Jsskier a better look at his horns. He reaches out, slipping his fingers down to the point again. "I just... can't help the way I react when I'm too close to you."

"What do you mean?"

"You make me want things I shouldn't, make me think about things I can't have-"

"Bullshit. What shouldn't you have? What can't you have?"

Geralt lifts his head to look at him, meeting his eyes for a moment and then, "you," he says sadly. Jaskier doesn't give a chance to respond before Geralt continues, evidently relieved to get this off his chest. "You spread your affection so wide, in every town and village and I- it's different with me. You're soft and kind, but how could you want... you have your choice of any person on the continent, how could I-'' he cuts himself off with a sound that Jaskier would call a sob from anyone else.

"What are you saying, Geralt? You don't think I could want you? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

Geralt just snorts at him and moves to pull away, but Jaskier rolls him onto his back and straddles his hips.

"Do you know how wonderful you are?" He pushes his hands through Geralt's chest hair, pressing his fingertips into his skin. "How could I not want you? Do you see me following anyone else around?"

"You're always with someone, always inviting someone else into your bed-"

"Because you wouldn't have me. Or, I thought-" He shifts a little, and suddenly Geralt's hands are sliding up his back, pressing him down against him.

"You thought wrong," he breathes, and then he's kissing him again, soft and slow. One hand slips up into his hair and Jaskier sighs against his lips, letting his eyes fall shut.

He slumps against Geralt's chest, pressing his hands to either side of Geralt's face and he kisses him softly. He pours all of his affection into ever, every feeling he's never been able to share with Geralt, every little thought that he's thought would be too much for him. He rocks against him, pressing their bodies together. He wants to feel Geralt, to be as close as he can for whatever time he has with him.

But then Geralt is pressing back, arching off the bed and wrapping one arm tightly around Jsskier's back until they're so close Jaskier can barely move. He nips at Geralt's lips, pushing back the words that bubble to the surface, the words he wants so desperately to say. He's been holding back for years and maybe now he's allowed? Maybe now Geralt would be amenable - her certainly seems to be so far.

And Jaskier is so caught up in the thought, in the idea of being able to tell Geralt how he feels, that he doesn't realize he's being rolled over until he's on his back and Geralt isn't touching him anymore. He rises to his knees, breaking the kiss only to mouth at Jsskier's jaw and down the side of his neck.

Geralt nips at his collarbone, runs his tongue along the ridge of it and sucks at the skin just below. There will be marks in the morning, Jaskier is sure of it, and he's already itching to look at them. But Geralt doesn't give him much of a chance to think about it before he's nuzzling at Jaskier's neck again, the tips of his fangs just barely brushing against his skin. And Jaskier shudders. The motion goes through his whole body and a soft whine escapes his lips. How the fuck Geralt ever thought seeing him like this would be a bad thing is beyond him.

"Jaskier," he whispers, "I want you. Can I?"

"Anything," Jaskier gasps, "please Geralt, anything."

Geralt hums against him and meets his eyes for just a second before lowering them again to Jaskier's chest. He presses soft kisses into the skin, slipping down to nuzzle into his chest hair and Jsskier is preoccupied with the warmth of his breath and then Geralt's fingers brush over a nipple and he cries out, arching off the bed as Geralt pinches it between his fingertips. It's still gentle, still softer than he's used to, but it's Geralt.

It's Geralt touching his chest and kissing his neck and playing with his nipples. It's Geralt kneeling over him and Geralt breathing against his skin and it's... a lot. Automatically, Jaskier reaches out to him, pulling Geralt close so he can bury his face in his neck.

Geralt works a hand between them, slipping down to fumble with the clasps on Jaskier's trousers and then he's pulling away just enough to be able to undo the clasps. Jaskier groans as his trousers are shoved away, discarded off the side of the bed, but then Geralt is fumbling with the buttons on his own and a wave of heat engulfs him.

This is really happening.

In his 33 years, Jaskier has slept with kings and queens, counts and countesses, and he's never wanted someone so badly as he wants Geralt. It makes him a little anxious and he has to swallow back his self-doubt as Geralt shifts out of his clothes and settles on his knees between Jaskier's thighs.

Without breaking the kiss, he slips his arms under Jaskier's knees, pressing them back against him until he's leaning over him again. Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing down on him and Jaskier groans despite himself. Geralt's cock brushes against his hip and he's hard. It tugs at something deep inside him and Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt's neck, fingers pushing into his hair.

He shifts against the mattress and Geralt pulls his arms back. His mouth doesn't leave Jaskier's, even as he reaches for something off the side of the bed. When he settles again, he's got a bottle in his hand and Jaskier whimpers at the thought of it.

Geralt draws away, breaking the kiss with a hum and kissing down Jaskier's chest. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his mouth around the head of his cock and then he's bobbing gently, sliding halfway down his cock and slipping back to the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he focuses on the feel of him, the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his hair in his hands.

When one of Geralt's hands presses against him, he hums encouragingly but doesn't move otherwise, afraid of breaking whatever spell he's under. He doesn't want to risk ending this, doesn't want to risk almost losing Geralt again.

Geralt slips a finger into him and Jaskier reaches up, smoothing his hands up the curve of Geralt's horns. He tries to keep steady, to keep from getting too worked up, but it's hard. Because this is Geralt, this is something he's wanted for years - what if it goes badly? What if it's terrible and Geralt no longer wants him?

A second finger presses into him and Jaskier gasps, startled from his thoughts. Geralt's eyes meet his and he looks worried, questioning.

"Is this too much?" he asks, "we don't have to-"

"No. No, I want you, I want this. Please." Jaskier's fingers slip to the base of his horns, brushing almost nervously where the flesh meets horn. "I just want to be good enough for you."

"You are," Geralt says immediately, "more than enough."

Their lips met again and Geralt's fingers press in a little more firmly. Heat rolls up Jaskier's spine, but he's not aching for it, he's not desperate to come. His cock is hard against his hip, but he wants to be close to Geralt. He wants his arms around him, wants to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist and just press himself against him. He wants the press of skin on skin, unhindered by clothes or blankets of any number of things that have kept them apart in the past.

He just wants Geralt and it doesn't matter how.

When Geralt finally pushes into him, Jaskier groans at the stretch. It's good, so good, and Geralt presses down against him again. Jaskier takes the opportunity to wrap around him and they move together easily, as though they were built for each other. Geralt kisses and nips and Jaskier loves so deeply he can't cope.

He hates the tears that bead in the corners of his eyes, hates the emotion that threatens to tear him apart and he buried his head in Geralt's neck to distract himself. Before he can get his arms around him properly, Geralt pulls back. As soon as he sees his face, Geralt's features pinch together.

"Jaskier-"

"Fuck," Jaskier whines weakly, "Geralt."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jaskier whimpers. He reaches up to Geralt, wanting to pull him close again. He doesn't want Geralt to see him, doesn't want him thinking he's too much, too emotional.

Geralt guides him back against the mattress and detangles their arms, leaning up on one elbow. Jaskier is embarrassed. He's a renowned lover, known for giving his partners the greatest pleasure and in the face of Geralt and one tiny bit of genuine affection, he breaks down.

He crosses his arms over his face but Geralt just wraps gentle fingers around his wrists and pulls them back.

"Hey," he whispers and there's worry in his voice that only makes Jaskier shudder. He chokes on a sob and turns his face, pressing his forehead against Geralrt's wrist.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, but Geralt just brushes his thumb over his forehead.

"For what?"

"I'm... " he doesn't know what to say. A mess? too much? not good enough for you? "okay."

"Jask, you're crying. Is it me?"

"No," he blurts, "no, Geralt, I-" a gentle thumb presses beneath his eye, wiping a tear away and that only makes it worse. "I love you," he whispers, so quiet he's sure no one will hear it. But Geralt, aside from his horns and his fangs, has sensitive hearing.

"And that's... bad." He says. It's not a question.

"No. No, but I- I fucked up. I almost lost you-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "you didn't. I was afraid you'd hate me like this, that you'd see me as the monster everyone else does. I was angry because I thought I was going to lose you."

"I know I'm a lot to put up with-"

"You're not."

Jaskier huffs a wet laugh. "I talk too much and I get in trouble you have to get me out of and I'm too slow and too annoying and too-" Geralt quiets him with a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Once," he says, "at a tavern in Posada, I would have believed those things. I don't anymore." He brushes his fingers down Jaskier's side, settling his palm against his hip. "If I really thought you were too much, I wouldn't be here now." He dips down, kissing him on the mouth again.

Jaskier can't help but sink into it and when Geralt shifts back on top of him, Jaskier winds around his neck again. Geralt breaks the kiss, kissing Jaskier's jaw and down his neck.

"We can stop if you want?"

"No," Jaskier mumbles.

"What do you need?"

"Just... you."

"Yeah," Geralt breathes, "yeah, okay."

He shifts his hips, resuming his slow but steady rhythm and Jaskier clings to him. He can't believe he came so close to losing Geralt tonight, to losing him and losing this forever. A swell of emotion threatens to rise up again and overwhelm him, but he kisses Geralt, holds him tight and focuses on the weight of his body against his own.

His fingers trail absently around the base of a horn, bumping over the uneven skin there. The horns themselves are smoother than expected, probably because they're so fresh, but he likes the sensation of them under his fingers and Geralt seems pleased about it.

Sparks skitter across Jaskier's skin as Geralt's pace quickens and he gaps against his mouth as Geralt rocks into his prostate. Even when Geralt's lips aren't on him, they hover above his skin, hot breath creating goosebumps in its wake. And when he kisses him, it seems a tremor audit through Jaskier's body, making his heart beat quicker and his toes curl in the sheets. He's never felt this way with anyone, never found himself chasing closeness before an orgasm, but he likes it.

He likes the sleekness of Geralt's horn under his palm, the tickle of his hair as it brushes his bare skin, the tackiness is dying away on Geralt's skin. All of it. He draws him close again, just as Geralt's hips give a little snap and it knocks the breath out of him.

"Can I touch you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier knows he won't last long with Geralt's hand on him, but for once that doesn't seem important.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt's palm slips up the underside of his cock, making him shudder.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier just nods, a small sound escaping his lips as he rocks his hips into the touch.

Geralt's fingers wrap around him and it's like a wave of heat washing over him. Jaskier's entire body burns for him, arches off the bed to get closer to him. Geralt takes him apart so easily and it's only a matter of minutes before he's gasping for it, groaning his need into Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt rocks into him, stroking him in time with his thrusts and when he kisses him again, Jaskier shatters. He groans against Geralt's lips, rocking back onto him as he spills between them. His thighs shake and his arms feel like noodles around Geralt's neck, but he holds him closer anyway.

He's still breathless when Geralt's hips snap forward again and Jaskier can tell he's close in the way he shudders as he rocks into him. He tangles his fingers in Geralt's hair, kisses him hard. He wants this to be good, wants Geralt to know that he's safe here, he can be happy here.

When Geralt comes, it's with a quiet moan against Jaskier's chest and he stays there for a moment, breathing against his skin. When he pulls away, he wraps his arms around Jaskier's shoulder, pulling him onto his side so they're still facing each other. Neither speaks and Geralt kisses him again, slow and gentle. His hand comes up to cup the back of his head, and Jaskier hums softly against his lips.

They part again on a shaky breath and Jaskier bumps his forehead against Geralt's. He doesn't want to ask him to stay, he's still too afraid to hear him say no. But he doesn't want Geralt to go. It's already hard enough losing him over the winter, he can't bear the thought of being parted any longer than that. He shuts his eyes and presses close, pacified by the way Geralt's arm tightens around him.

"Next winter," Geralt mumbles, abrupt, "come with me. There's nothing left for me to hide and I... miss you over the winter. I worry about you." Jaskier's heart soars, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions restrained.

"You'd want me there?" he asks, "with your brothers?"

"Yeah. And they've been bugging me about it since I first mentioned you."

"You talk about me?" Jaskier asks, pulling back to look at him. Geralt tips his head up, golden eyes shining even in the dim light.

"Of course. You're-" he pauses as though unsure of what exactly Jaskier is. "I love you, too," he whispers at last, eyes lowered.

It feels like a dream, like any moment Jaskier will wake up and be back hiding behind that building or worse - alone in his room. But when he kisses him, Geralt is warm and solid against him and Jaskier buries himself in that warmth.

He will never, could never, understand how anyone can see this man as a monster.

#geraskier #fangs #horns #monster march #this got... sadder than expected oop #rex writes #the witcher

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stargazingthenightaway · 3 years

Text

See Something You Like? Part 1

Pairing: Rebels Rex x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: NSFW 18+ Sexual tension, dirty thoughts, praise kink, size kink, Oral (female receiving) unwanted attention (not from main character) Dom!Rex

A/N: So I’ve decided to write a few, but what I thought would be a one shot has turned into this monster, so I’ve decided to break it down. Not sure how long it’ll be, but I get the feeling it’ll be at least 3 parts. This is inspired by @samrubio art especially her Rex pieces, go check it out! Also, if I missed any warning tags, let me know :)

It was a rarity for the firing range to be this empty. Usually it was crammed to the walls with training drills for new recruits, post mission vent sessions with the faceless targets or if you were unlucky, the cocky fly-boys trying to one-up each other, seeing who had the better ‘blaster’. If you were really unlucky, instead of leaving, their attention would turn to whoever they thought would enjoy their company, which consisted of what barely passed as a conversation before leading to the real objective, servicing the dangly bit between their legs. Their limp pick up line “I’ve got another blaster you can handle sweet cheeks” was in just as much need of an overhaul as their piloting skills. Sadly, you’ve been on the receiving end of these lack-lustre ‘invitations’ far too often and are quick to shut them down. It’s become so repetitive you can time it to the second when they make their appearance. All these boys are the same, give them a flight suit, a ship and they think they’re the Maker’s gift to the galaxy.

‘They’re just so immature’ you think to yourself, a scowl on your face. Your last rebuffed fly-boy hasn’t gotten the memo that you’re not interested and continues to pester you. As if you’d want to spend 30 seconds listening to a dying bantha grunt into your ear, fumbling to get himself off and counting down until you’re smothered in dissatisfaction. Hard. Pass.

The only reason you have some peace is because they’re out on a mission, but you will take the reprieve. It’s a joy to have an opportunity to fit in some blaster practice without an audience. While you weren’t the worst shot in the rebellion, you certainly weren’t the best, but with enough practice you hope you’ll be placed on some off-planet missions.

Sliding into an empty booth, you pick up one of the safety helmets, placing it on your head and type in one of the easier simulation codes on the keypad on the side of the wall. As the program calibrates, you remove the blaster from its holster on your thigh, flicking off the safety and settling into your stance. Breathe in, breathe out, shoot. This mantra helps get a rhythm going and soon you’re oblivious to everything around you except your target. The steady stream of blaster fire rings out, mixed with the sounds of high tings for each successful hit and clunky thunks with each miss. It’s pleasing to note that with each round there are more tings than there are thunks. Soon you’re drifting off with the repetitive movements, your thoughts going through your encounters with him.

Captain Rex, member of the Ghost crew and key participant of the rebellion. A legend in his own right. You had first seen him in passing, bringing up some data pads needed for a debrief and you just happened to look in his direction as you were leaving, and stars did you look. He was thick everywhere. His armour did nothing to hide his size as your gaze travelled from his barrel chest, to his thick waist, finally ending at his powerful thighs. Rex has the kind of body that makes you want to rub yourself all over him like a nexu in heat. As he spoke with Agent Fulcrum, Rex crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his shirt tight over his biceps, and your mouth watered. You were so busy ogling that Rex had finished his conversation and looked over your way.

Seeing you staring he gives you a small smirk and a wink before mouthing “see something you like?” You swear he flexed his arms a bit as he did that.

The smirk on his face grows as you feel your face heat up, hightailing it out of the debriefing room and making your way back to your office. It’s quite a while before your blush goes away, and more than one person asks if you’re feeling well.

The next time you saw him was a bit more hands-on and it still makes you clench your thighs together when you recall this particular memory. You’d been paired as sparring partners, and if you thought Rex looked good in his armour, he was downright edible stripped down to a simple training shirt and grey sweatpants. The shirt stretched in all the right places and the pants were loose enough to provide movement where it was needed, but just snug enough to tease you about what he was packing.

You were so distracted that he easily put you on your back, repeatedly. Each time he knocked you over his thighs would bracket your own, your hands pinned by your head and the rest of his body caging you in. How in the Sith hells were you supposed to concentrate if this was exactly where you wanted to be! You clawed at whatever self-restraint you still possessed to not rub up against him, but maker he made it difficult.

After the final throw Rex settled on your thighs and smirked down at you “What’s the matter mesh’la?” He took in your flushed cheeks, “You seem distracted, I didn’t think you’d take everything I gave you so easily.”

Your face was on fire, your brain traitorously giving you ideas of what else you’d take from him, and how well you’d enjoy it.

“Surely you can get me on my back.” You eyes snapped up to his, “all you need to do is use your hips and thrust.”

Fuck.

You felt yourself get wet as a throb built up between your legs from just his voice alone. You needed to finish whatever this had become so you could finish your own needs, preferably in the privacy of your own bunk. With a strength that surprised even you, you took Rex’s advice to thrust your hips up, bracing you leg to provide enough leverage to push him over. The look of surprise on his face that you took his words to heart was something you would never forget.

As you settled over his waist, his hands came up to your sides, sliding down to rest on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Knew you could do it” His surprise had turned into a beatific smile, looking up at you as his hands squeezed your hips. “Good girl.”

The triumphant words die on your lips as you look down at him and see exactly how you’re positioned. Your hands are braced on his chest and your thighs have splayed out to the sides to fit over his waist. There is a pleasant ache along your inner thighs from the stretch. If anyone saw the suggestive scene of the pair of you right now, the gossip hotline would be buzzing for months. You made a motion to move but Rex’s hands keep you snug against himself. His thumbs had made their way under the edge of your shirt and traced light circles over your skin. Arousal flooded your veins and you felt your slick starting to soak your panties.

You look back up to Rex’s face and he tightens his grip “See something you like mesh’la?”

Before you could answer the door burst open, causing the two of you to startle, zoning back in to the present. Chatter filled the room as Wolffe and Gregor brought in the next group of ‘shinies’ for sparring practice. The bubble of intimacy had burst and you hurriedly got off Rex, babbling some thanks about the advice before bolting out of the room. That was six weeks ago, the Ghost having left on a mission, taking Rex with them.

The buzzer in your booth goes off, signalling the end of the simulation. You’re not ready to head back to the responsibilities of intelligence just yet, so you up the intensity of another exercise and when you’re happy with your rhythm, let your thoughts turn back to Rex.

He’d become the prominent figure in all your fantasies. Before that, neither your toys or your hands would work to get you off, leaving you frustrated and horny. In a fit of desperation you thought back to your spar, but instead of sitting on Rex’s waist you were sitting on his face.

You imagined how his arms would wrap around your thighs, muscles flexing to make sure you stay exactly where he wants you to, and that’s on his tongue. Moans fill the room as he slowly eats you out, long licks up your folds to harsh sucks on your clit. The vibrations from his groans sending you spiralling to the edge, only for him to back off when you’re so close, leaving you sobbing and trembling with need. He’d leave little nibbles and bites along your inner thighs as he waits for the trembling to stop, and his beard, fuck. Rex would nuzzle the side of his face along your legs, leaving more marks that you were his. Letting you know that he was the only one that could give you the satisfaction you craved. You’d squirm, just to feel him tighten his hold, knowing that he controlled your pleasure.

“Look at me,” he’d growl before licking up your slit, drinking you down, “want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum on my tongue.” This sends another rush of slick from your core, the feeling in your belly coiled tight, waiting to snap. You yelp as there’s a sharp bite to your thigh.

“You like it when I tell you to watch” Rex grins from between your thighs, and you can see the evidence of your arousal glistening on his beard. Stars that is hot. There is a feral look in his golden eyes “Next time I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of a mirror, show you how wet you get for me.”

Your needy whine of approval turns into a lascivious moan as Rex plunges his tongue into your heat, rapidly bringing your orgasm back to the edge, but this time he doesn’t stop. His tongue speeds up, alternating between fluttering around your opening and pushing in as far as he can, nose pressed into your clit. All too soon you’re flying over the edge into sweet oblivion.

With a choked scream you cum, legs clamped tight around Rex’s head, his arms pulling you closer as his tongue working furiously to collect everything that you give him. He groans in delight and that sets off another small orgasm which has you seeing white. When you finally come down from your high you look back down at Rex, a blissed out expression on your face.

Rex has to practically lift you off him, moving you down so that you’re straddling his waist and conveniently nestling his cock between your folds, and that’s another part of him you’re all too eager to get to know.

As you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, Rex puts a hand around the back of your neck, pulling your closer. You don’t need to be force sensitive to feel how smug he is, it’s written all over his face and the possessive arm draped around your waist.

He nuzzles your nose when you’re close enough, before whispering two devastating words “Good girl.”

A blaring sound yanks you out of your daydream, and you realize that you’ve stopped shooting at the targets. The noise is the warning alarm that the simulation will shut off after 30 more seconds of inactivity. What it is is an inconvenience. You slam the pause button a little more forcefully than you need to, too riled up from your own fantasy simulation. It seems to have worked a little too well, judging by ache between your legs.

Putting the safety back on your blaster, you drop it onto the shelf in front of the booth opening. Thinking back, there was something in Rex’s eyes as he called you “good girl” that you can’t quite put your finger on. Discovering that you enjoyed being praised was one thing, but it seemed that Rex was holding something back, something that had to do with that phrase. Not knowing what it was set you on edge, that it could be something about you and that feeling didn’t sit well.

There was just something about him that makes you crave his attention, wanting to please him so he’d call you “good girl” again. You shiver as you think about how he looked between your thighs, how wide you had to stretch to fit him between you legs.

You groan to yourself, knowing you’re well and truly gone on this man, and that you’d let him do whatever he wanted, just as long as you could be his good girl. You lean forward against the small shelf, burying your head in your arms.

“Fuuuuck me.”

“Am I interrupting something, mesh’la?”

To be continued

#Captain Rex #Rex #Oldman Rex #Rex x reader #Rebel Rex x reader #First fic #Yay me #Cue internal panic #Started from a blurb now we're here #Inspired by art #I need a Rex in my life

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fanficshiddles · 3 years

Text

Loki’s Queen, One Shot

Thanks for the prompt! I also used the name Anya since someone asked about using that name the other day! 😊 eevee-of-rivia submitted: Can you do a Loki or Tom Fluffy one shot with a Cosplayer s/o? Like she likes to cosplay and her favorite character to cosplay is Loki

Loki was utterly in love and devoted to his darling Anya. She didn’t judge him for his past deeds, all she cared about was the present. And they were practically attached at the hip, always together. It was unusual for them to be seen apart.

When he had first brought her home to meet the Avengers about eight months ago, they had all panicked at first, thinking that he had kidnapped her. After she explained to them that she was indeed there of her own free will, they soon relaxed and stopped shielding her from Loki.

To Loki’s delight, Anya adored Loki as much as he adored her. And she never failed to show him and the others how much she loved him. Even often taking the micky out of the ‘heroes’ saying how she was always a Loki fangirl before meeting them all anyway. Loki would just grin widely with his arm around her.

Loki was in awe of what she enjoyed to do, cosplaying. Many of her outfits were incredible, and what she could do with her hair and make-up was something else. But he was suspicious when for one of Starks fancy-dress parties she had spent weeks beforehand working on a new cosplay. Loki tried to get peeks, but she would never let him.

She kept telling him she was making adjustments to one of her favourite cosplays. Loki wasn’t sure which one, as she had never told him her favourite. Perhaps it was Maleficent, or maybe Harley Quinn. Then again, those were his favourites of hers to cosplay as.

Anya had told Loki to go ahead to the party and she would meet him there. He had been eager to see what her cosplay was, but she wouldn’t give in yet. So, donning his Asgardian armour, he headed off to the party.

It was no surprise that Thor was in his armour too, that’s what the God’s always wore when it was a fancy-dress party.

‘Really, you can’t come up with something different?’ Tony asked Loki and Thor. He was dressed as a robot.

‘Come on, Tony. You can’t expect the God’s to lower themselves to our standard.’ Natasha laughed as she walked over to them. She was dressed up as Wanda.

‘And you are supposed to be the witch?’ Loki drawled, raising an eyebrow at her.

‘Hell yeah, I really look up to Wanda. Would give anything to be her.’ She said loudly and looked over at Wanda, who cheered back at her. Wanda was dressed up as a cat.

Everyone else was dressed up as various characters.

Loki was just about to pick up a drink when everyone around stopped talking and was suddenly staring at the doorway.

Loki looked over and his eyes widened when he saw Anya walk in.

She looked magnificent. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was cosplaying Loki himself. She wore a beautifully intricate corset that matched his armour, but also showed off her breasts in a very delightful way. She had leather trousers that were similar to his own, but even tighter. Long black high heeled boots that gave her a bit more height. Her hair was dyed black, it definitely wasn’t a wig, Loki knew that even from a distance. Anya also had a green cape that draped along the floor behind her. And her horns, if he didn’t know any better and wasn’t wearing them, he would’ve thought that they were actually his own.

Anya smiled and then looked a little shy as she spotted Loki and made her way towards him.

When Loki was able to pick his jaw up from the floor and stop drooling, he managed to focus enough to get his legs to work and moved towards her.

Even with heels on, Loki still towered over Anya. He was a God after all.

‘Wow, Anya…’ He was speechless for a change.

She bit her lip anxiously and smiled up at him. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it? I am honoured that you would cosplay me.’ He beamed.

‘Really?’ Her eyes lit up.

‘Really really.’ Loki nodded. ‘But you said you were cosplaying as your favourite… That you were updating your costume a bit?’ He asked, confused.

She blushed and dipped her head down. ‘Yeah, I uhm, have cosplayed as you before.’

‘Oh really? Please tell me you have pictures.’ Loki grinned.

‘Of course.’ She nodded.

Loki ran his fingers down her horns. ‘As usual, your work is incredible, darling.’ He praised.

‘Thank you.’ She grinned up at him.

Tony walked over with Natasha. ‘Seriously, out of all of us he is the one you cosplay as?’ He sneered, though he was impressed with her cosplay.

‘Of course. Why would I want to cosplay as you, when I could cosplay after the real God of mischief?’ Anya smirked and folded her arms across her chest.

‘Ouch. You wound me, Anya.’ Tony mocked as he put his hand over his heart, chuckling a little.

Loki put his arm around Anya’s waist and led her away. ‘Leave my Queen and I alone, Stark.’ He grumbled at him.

Loki wanted to fawn over Anya and her cosplay some more. He looked at every little detail and was in such awe. Then he ran his hand down the cape and looked even more impressed, not noticing her tensing up ever so slightly.

‘You even got the black stitching bang on with this cape. And the velvet.’ He said, surprised.

But then he saw the sheepish look on her face. He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Anya… Is this actually my cape?’

‘Uhm… Yeah, it is.’ She blushed. ‘But the one I made ripped, I panicked and ran into your room and found it… I’m sorry.’ She said quickly.

Loki placed his finger on her lips with a smile. ‘Don’t be sorry. Aside from it being a little big for you, it suits you.’ He winked at her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned down a little to kiss her, his hands holding her face softly while their lips moved together.

‘I love you, Anya. My little Loki cosplayer... My Queen.’ He murmured against her lips.

‘And I love you, Loki. My King.’

#loki #tom hiddleston #one shot #fan fiction #prompt #loki's queen #loki x ofc

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bowieandqueen11 · 3 years

Text

Garrotter, Jury and Judge / Jaskier Imagine

Request: For the Autumn event: Can I please request an oneshot/imagine of the female reader and Jaskier having a romantic Autumn date, please? thank you so much!!! 🍁🧡🍁

I am SO sorry anon I turned this prompt into like a whole thing so yeah if anyone would like to see more of this or would like me to turn this into a series, please reblog and comment and let me know!!!

(Gif credit goes to @joeybateydearly, I do not own the Witcher or its characters/ all rights go to creators. Song lyrics do not belong me, they were found here and all rights go to creators.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

You and Jaskier had always agreed to meet at the coast, no matter what direction fate would try to herd the two of you.

Even up until now, until this very moment, the bard had done everything in his power to make sure the path of his life did not diverge from your own. Like two souls twisted into one entity, he did not understand yet that this was the inevitable, but unknown conclusion to your stories - that knowledge, destiny had kept shrouded in its impenetrable mist. You. Julian. Hummingbird. Dandelion. Jaskier. Garroter, jury and judge. No matter what names you called him or he called you, what universe you were in, how and why you found each other, the two of you would always be soulmates.

Life has never been easy for the two of you. Growing up as the sibling of a Witcher, by the gods the sibling of Geralt of Rivia was tough, even if Vesemir had treated you as his own daughter and spent day in and day out drawing you away from the practice dummies to test out your own swordsman skill on his poor armour. Day in, day out Geralt would leave Lambert with the remnants of his Gwent cards and the last of his coin to go sit on the edge of the training ground. He would never admit it but it was the only time he could find himself smiling during those days, the low sun rays casting shadows over your feet as the rays melted over your sword like honey, thwacking Vesemir on the thigh. He only chuckles, before finally admitting defeat, admirably and amicably pulling you by the shoulder and into his side. Geralt runs back to your shared bunks before the two of you spot him, but by the mischievous twinkle and wink he gives him in the main hall the next day during dawn’s breakfast made him realise he was always caught. But he didn’t mind. As long as you were happy here, then he could bear feeling content too.

Being allowed to travel to school at Oxenfurt and begin to grow the skills you needed to join the healer’s trade allowed you some respite from the Witchers. Meeting this strange Julian Alfred Pankrantz during your first year just happened to be a stroke of luck. You had been the only one to laugh in that crowded lecture hall during your first week of lessons, when little eleven year old Jaskier had become bored with the professor’s crooning. As soon as he turned back, the floppy haired boy with the wildish grin jumped up on the teacher’s desk, kicking the papers off and singing at the top of his lungs about how the man’s breath smelt like donkey dung. Everyone else had gasped, or tried to stifle their smiles, or else hid their heads behind their quills in shame. When something in Jaskier’s gut had made him reach out his hand to you, the only person standing laughing within the cobbled walls, with a wink and a smile and beckoned at you with his fingers to latch on, something in your soul pushed you forward. The detention the both of you got for the month was just another excuse to spend more time together.

Then, the two of you began to become inseparable. The years that followed on from that moment, Dandelion was always by your side. It was as if your breaths patterned out one and the same, that strange glowing feeling in your chest that reminded each that your lives were not just your own, but your souls survived solely as they were intertwined together. Whether it was him sitting by your side during meal breaks, fist under his chin as he straddled the bench and gave you his full attention with giddy eyes, even if he did throw his spoon about thinking up new waxing lines of poetry. Or, the days the two of you would sneak out from boring herbology lessons and run down to the Oxenfurt Harbour, swinging your legs above the water and just sitting side by side, making up tale tales for all the forlorn and tired looking sailors who passed by on their storm damaged trade ships. Or the nights when he would throw rocks at your window, before climbing up the trail of ivy that led to your window ledge with great difficulty. You would always have to pull him into your room by the scruff of his collar, his face twisted in pain and resolve as he tried to throw his thigh over your pane and nearly shattered the lattice glass with his boot. He would tumble on to you, knocking both of you back onto the cold stone of your floor. But when the shock had settled, and he found himself peering down at you with a thundering heart and both legs clumsily straddling your stomachs, you ended up having to shove a fist into both your mouths, trying to stop the giggles from alerting any professor’s of the academy from running down the halls towards your dorm.

Or when the two of you had reached the age of twenty two, and although he was travelling home to visit his parents, for once you had declined his invitation to join his journey. He looked crestfallen, heartbroken even, but the two of you both knew that you couldn’t remain lovestruck students forever. War was always raging on, and you could no longer ignore Vesemir’s calls to come back home. Neither could Jaskier ignore the passage of time, or destiny’s bellows for him to finally find his place in this world, alighting his growing discontent with the bubble of city life and the yoke he felt tighten around his neck from the promise of a life filled with nothing but academia.

He opened his mouth, that last day the two of you would sit by the coast for a while. He floundered, as your hand rested on his thigh and his fingers unconsciously played with their length. Despite the frills of his jacket, and the warm autumn wind that seemed to cocoon the two of you in your own shroud under the melting, setting sun, he found himself shivering against your shoulder. He mooched, tucking himself further into you. He was scared. Terrified. He was going to ask you to run away with him, from this, from all of it. Fate be damned, even if he didn’t know its truth quite yet. You were all he wanted from this life, from any of his lives, and he would give up anything this world could ever grant him just to leave here with you. His mouth blubbered, suddenly overcome with the sharp barbs of grief that only the promise of unrequited tenderness and adoration could bring when he ducked his head and sheepishly raised those wide eyes to glance over at you. Even though he knew you were there, thigh resting against his own and breath so close he could smell the mint in the air, your gaze was far away. Just searching, looking, unknown to both, for a similar escape from the life you knew was coming to entrap you. Begging the horizon to allow the two of you to just escape, melt into the darkness and coldness it was beginning to release over the choppy waters beneath the cragged rocks two devastated lovers sat on.

But then his ears twitched as he heard your sorrowful giggle, eyebrows raising as you hit his shoulder with his own. Untangling your arm from within his own, you turn to the sack you had carried along with you and undid the ribbon on top.

‘How could I nearly forget to give you your birthday present?’

He smiled, a true one now, as you pulled out the lute and placed it heavily into his arms. You had meant it as a joke, almost as a painful promise - gifting him a reminder of yourself, of your time together in your almost selfish hope that no matter what happened, that he would never forget you. He laughed, plucking a string as you told him that his singing from that fateful day the two of you met still echoed in your ears every time you tried to sleep, that he might as well try and earn some coin from his gift. You smiled, and he reciprocated with the most devastatingly flooding of reverence in his eyes. Yet, when his pointer finger finally found and stroked over the initials, both his and yours, that you had stencilled with a little heart on the lute’s southern end, he couldn’t stop the tears from dripping onto the wood.

The rest of that autumn day was spent by the coast, sitting on the cragged rocks and looking off into the shimmering red sky, mourning the life the two of you knew was as far off as the ocean’s depths. Resting your head on his shoulder, he gripped onto your fingers in so sharp a way that caused you pain, but you just pressed a kiss against the side of his throat and you felt him release the trembling breath he had been holding in. So, you tried to distract him, talking about the little inn, or pub, or gods, even cabaret the two of you would get in the far future when the two of you were married, and there were no armies or clans or Witchers or monsters or professors left to split you apart. You wanted to call it ‘The Dandelion’, as Julian’s hair in those days used to be much longer and puffier. When the two of you were teens, you used to tease him for it, stroking his hair back into a ponytail and telling him its wildness reminded you of wild flowers blowing in the wind. In retaliation, he used to call you his little hummingbird, so of course that was the name he chimed in with, with a happy little hum.

So the two of you just sat there, dreaming of singing, and dancing, and reciting poetry and falling asleep side by side and just being able to be in love.

But then you had to leave, and Jaskier did the only thing he could think of doing when his heart and soul had been ripped from his body and had left him as a false, empty husk of meaningless flirting to fill the void - a desperate man seeking love from everyone he turned to, and yet finding each more bitter and hopeless than the last. Instead of crumbling, he allowed himself to be forged from the painful storm that ravaged his body and soul, and went travelling. Trying to find you at each inn, each forgotten town of wiped cities he came across, he sang songs he had written only for you in the hopes some sailor, some soldier, some Witcher had heard news of your wellbeing.

‘The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool

Better stay out of sight

I'm weak my love, and I am wanting

If this is the path I must trudge

I welcome my sentence

Give to you my penance

Garrotter, jury and judge’

Little could he see his future. A Witcher named Geralt. A sorceress, a djinn’s attack and a reunion that would lead him back to that coast on a warm autumn’s day, but this time with the pieces of his heart forged back together again. If only he could see. But for now, he would just have to trust destiny.

#the witcher #jaskier #joey batey #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #dandelion #the witcher season 2 #geralt of rivia #jaskier x reader #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier fluff #jaskier angst #vesemir #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

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minaslittleone · 3 years

Text

How Rare and Beautiful

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable

With shortness of breath you explained the infinite and how rare and beautiful it is to even exist - Saturn by Sleeping At Last

Word count: ~ 4200 words

Requested by @lucyintheskywithxanax

While pulling herself from the tender embrace of sleep was never something Cordelia would be able to look forward to, moments like this would always make it worthwhile. These tiny morsels of time bathed in the warmth of the newly risen sun where they were free to just be. These sacred moments clothed in the stillness of the morning as yet unbroken by the hordes of young witches upstairs. Moments where she was free to gaze lovingly at the sight of her girlfriend, auburn hair aglow in the early morning light and countenance blessedly unguarded.

“You’re staring” Wilhemina muttered, neglecting to lift her gaze from her phone as she scrolled lazily through the news.

Cordelia bit back a smile. “I am not”

Wilhemina raised her eyes slightly, shooting her girlfriend a glare that was supposed to convey her disbelief and displeasure but ended up a lot closer to fond annoyance.

“Well it would be a lot easier if you weren’t so lovely to stare at” Cordelia replied offhandedly.

The feigned indifference in Wilhemina’s expression was rapidly betrayed by the tender stain of pink painting its way across her cheeks.

“Why must you be so sappy every morning?” she retorted, as if these weren’t her favourite moments of the day as well.

“Because, my dear” Cordelia whispered as she eased back her own chair, and moved to stand behind Wilhemina, wrapping her arms loosely around her shoulders and bending to rest her lips against the crown of her head. “I have to pack as much love as I can into these few moments we have together to last me through the rest of the day, until I can have you to myself again tonight.”

She felt her girlfriend duck her head slightly at that, imagining the way she would undoubtedly be biting her lip and the soft blush blooming across her cheeks.

Cordelia did her best to soak in every last drop of this moment, nourishing her soul for the day to come. They had earned this, she reasoned, the right to savour these small moments together. Things hadn’t been easy of late, not that they ever really were between both of their responsibilities and the practical challenges of trying to have a private relationship while living in a house full of nosy young witches. But of late things had been particularly challenging.

Early in their relationship Cordelia had realised that there would be times she would need to give Wilhemina space. That as much as she would want to coddle and soothe, that sometimes she would need to give her girlfriend time and space to come to her first. And that there would be some things that she may never willing to share with her completely.

Cordelia tried her best to let Wilhemina set the pace. To quietly stand beside her and cloak her in the warmth and safety she needed to be able to lay down her armour. She tried to be patient and to swallow down the hurt as she was quietly rebuffed but watching the person she loved above all else struggle alone would never fail to make her heart ache.

Cordelia soon learned there were patterns to Wilhemina. And in particular she noticed that every few months or so she would go quiet, physically withdrawing herself as she fought some battle that raged behind her eyes, the details of which Cordelia was not privy to. Eventually Cordelia pieced together that these bouts of silence coincided with the dates of various doctors appointments. Not that Wilhemina ever volunteered this information, but sometimes she was begrudgingly required to divulge it if it happened to coincide with another coven commitment. And so Cordelia did her best to be kind and gentle and patient, waiting with open arms for when the fog would lift and her girlfriend would reach hesitantly out to her, conveying with the reverence of her touch the apology that she was unable to muster in words.

And so when Wilhemina had pulled away again just over two weeks ago Cordelia had initially been able to attribute it to this unwelcome cycle. And initially she had been right. Except this time the haunted look in her eyes never lifted. She hadn’t been able to rip herself from the clutches of melancholy to reach out for the support Cordelia so tenderly proffered. Indeed as the days went on she only withdrew further. Occasionally Cordelia had caught her girlfriend watching her with an expression that looked achingly like heartbreak, only for her to quickly avert her gaze upon being caught, often fleeing Cordelia’s presence entirely.

Cordelia had tried to be patient and give Wilhemina time to come to her as she always eventually did, to respect her and give her time and space. But something in Cordelia’s heart knew this was different. That the aching sadness that hung from her girlfriend was something new. And eventually her heart hadn’t been able to watch her suffer any longer.

Cornering Wilhemina Venable was never a good idea. And of course she had fought back. With claws and teeth, insults and barbs, honed over years of struggling through life alone. Through attacks which were only really defence from a world which had been so cruel. And while Cordelia would never deliberately hurt, would never subject her to that same scorn, sometimes the only way to break through her girlfriends defences was to allow her to attack.

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. That occasionally her girlfriend’s words didn’t still echo through the dark corners of her brain.

“This is a pathetic waste of time”

“There’s no point continuing whatever this is when it is clearly not going anywhere”

“I’m simply being realistic. This is a distraction from more important things.”

But at the time she had been able to simply shrug them off. All she could see was the tension in her girlfriend’s jaw and that she was steadfastly avoiding her gaze, as if that would somehow stop Cordelia from noticing the way her eyes brimmed with tears.

Eventually the well of rage had run dry, leaving Wilhemina exhausted and defenceless, with nothing left with which to push Cordelia away. And even after everything she had thrown at her, the supreme still stood there with eyes full of love. As hard as she had tried to push away, to protect her, Cordelia refused to leave. Unlike everyone before her who had turned tail at the slightest excuse, Cordelia had stayed.

It hadn’t taken much after that. Cordelia had cautiously stepped towards her, had reached out reverently to brush away the tears that had escaped unbidden.

“Honey” she had whispered softly.

And then suddenly her arms were full of her girlfriend, sobbing and clinging to her. Begging her not to let go. Pleading over and over again that she was sorry.

Neither of them had slept much that night. In the quiet safety of the darkness Wilhemina had laid her soul bare. Bitterly repeated the cold, unfeeling medical terminology. Progressive. Reduced mobility. Constant pain. Spinal fatigue. Cardiovascular complications. Immobile. How after she had fought and struggled for every single day for as long as she could remember she had been so callously told that it was all only going to get worse. That she was “getting older” and it was time to start considering all the new ways in which her body would betray her as she did.

How could she subject Cordelia to that? How could she let herself become that and allow the one person she cared about more than anything remain there to witness it?

But Cordelia had never faltered. Yes she had cried and sobbed at the unfairness of it all. She had cursed whatever higher power she could think of that had dared subject Wilhemina to this. She had silently plotted revenge against the doctor who had so unfeeling delivered this burden. But not once had she let go.

And somewhere in the darkness, amongst all the tears, something new had blossomed. Between fervent promises of together and never alone a new strength had been born. Every tear Cordelia gently brushed away was replaced with a tender kiss, littering Wilhemina’s skin with her promises that she would always stay. Tender words repeated over and over as if eventually she would be able to etch them on to Wilhemina’s very soul and let them fill her from the inside out. Strong. Brave. Beautiful. Loved. Enough. Mine. Always.

And while they had greeted the new day with tired eyes, stained red from the late night and shared tears, the new weight of the promise of together had tasted oh so sweet. And maybe they wouldn’t have forever and maybe it wouldn’t always look like this. But surely that was only more reason to hold on to each moment they did have all the more tightly and reverently. To bask unabashedly in the glow of their love for each other.

And so they had.

It was as if they had fallen in love all over again. Upon seeing the deepest, most tarnished and delicate parts of each others souls they had met again for the first time. And it was nothing if not beautiful, the way they looked at each other with a new reverence, like the first stubborn daffodil poking through the snow dusted ground. A spark of brightness and joy in the nothingness.

Cordelia felt Mina shift slightly in her arms, turning her head to press a delicate kiss to Cordelia’s exposed wrist before setting deeper into her embrace. She could feel the tension drip from her as she did, her armour being cast aside with the trust that Cordelia’s arms could take its place. That this was the one place where defences were not required. That having already laid her soul bare at Cordelia’s feet she was still here, that unlike everyone who had come before she was worthy of her trust.

Until their closely guarded moment of peace was shattered, crumbling around them with the sound of slamming cupboard doors and rattlingly crockery.

Wilhemina had jumped so violently that Cordelia suspected that she would suffer her body's protests at it for the remainder of the day, which served only to increase her ire at Madison as she obnoxiously continued to prepare her coffee. With the younger witch’s back still turned Cordelia took the opportunity to give Wilhemina’s shoulders one final squeeze before resignedly rising to face the day.

“Madison” she rebuked.

The younger witch finally decided to turn around. “Oh are you done? Cos I can’t deal with whatever sappy shit you two are up to until I’ve at least had a coffee”

“For once in your life Madison, are you capable of not being rude?”

“Well that depends Cordy” the blonde retorted. “For once in your life are you capable of not being a complete bore? Surely we couldn’t be unlucky enough to get two stick-in-the-mud supremes in a row - maybe its about time we trade you in a for a younger, more fun model?”

An icy chill settled over the room. And whilst Wilhemina couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she was missing, for now she was more concerned with the way Cordelia had stiffened beside her. She may be the most powerful witch on earth, but Wilhemina still couldn't help feel the need to protect her.

“Get out Madison” she seethed, voice dangerously low.

Even the headstrong actress wasn’t foolhardy enough to disobey the redhead, throwing a disinterested “whatever” over her shoulder as she retreated, coffee in hand.

Finally satisfied that they were once again alone, Wilhemina finally dared to turn and meet her girlfriend’s eyes once more. However she was shocked to find Cordelia’s face completely devoid of colour, eyes staring hauntedly into the middle distance.

“Delia” she whispered gently, careful not to startle her clearly troubled partner.

Cordelia wrestled herself from her thoughts, shooting Wilhemina an unconvincing smile before hastily withdrawing.

But Wilhemina would not be dissuaded, following closely after her girlfriend’s retreating figure. However Cordelia was seemingly too preoccupied to notice, jumping violently as Wilhemina closed the office door behind them with perhaps a little too much force.

“Delia?” she ventured, slowly extending a hand to her girlfriend.

Cordelia barely registered her presence, almost unable able to hear her over the roaring of her own heartbeat in her ears. The terror of staring down the now inevitable discussion leaving her paralysed. It wasn’t that she had ever meant to keep the true implications of her supremacy from Wilhemina but simply that she had never found the right moment to confide them. And now the right to choose how and when to have this conversation had been callously ripped away from her at the hands of Madison’s early morning tantrum.

Wilhemina would never have considered herself as someone who read emotions well. She was certainly well versed in reading people’s intentions, finding the underlying meanings and motives, but rarely at feeling and understanding and certainly not in the way the Cordelia could. But she would like to think that if there was one person in the world she did understand, it was Cordelia. She knew that her girlfriend constantly feared her own shortcomings, that she would inevitably succumb to the same failings as her mother. And so perhaps naively Wilhemina assumed that was what about Madison’s taunts had troubled her so.

“You shouldn’t let Madison get to you” she tried, tentatively trying to break through Cordelia’s glazed expression. “That girl knows how to antagonize like no one else I have ever met but that doesn’t make her right. You are the most wonderful supreme this coven has had in generations, if not in its entirety, and there are dozens of girls upstairs who would wholeheartedly agree with me. So please don’t let Madison make you think otherwise. There is no way they are simply going to replace you or vote you out, even the idea is absurd.”

Cordelia could feel her heart squeezing tighter in her chest. God couldn’t she just have been mad? It would have been so much easier if she had just been angry at her deception. But instead Wilhemina remained blissfully unaware, opening her closely guarded heart to her and showing her tenderness which she no longer deserved. And the only thing she had with which to repay her was betrayal.

“I know they won’t” she finally whispered, somehow managing to keep her voice even. “I know they won’t because that isn’t how it works”

“How what works?”

Cordelia let out a strangled sigh in vain attempt to keep her tears at bay. “The supremacy. A new supreme isn’t chosen or voted. They rise when they are ready, when the time is right, irrespective of what anyone wants - even the current supreme.”

But somehow Wilhemina still couldn’t put the pieces together, her brain willfully ignorant of the painful truth that Cordelia was trying to softly break to her.

“You’ve always said you wished you had more time. That we had more time just to be together without either of our responsibilities. Would it really be so bad if another supreme were to rise?”

“There can only be one supreme” she finally whispered. “As a new supreme rises the old one fades”

“Fades?” Wilhemina’s wide-eyed confusion served only to pour salt into the wounds on Cordelia’s broken heart.

“Our magic is tied and we are tied to it. Once it begins to leave and flow into the new supreme, time is usually short.”

All at once the veil seemed to lift and the full implications of what Cordelia had been so gently trying to convey struck her, leaving Wilhemina reeling. Her brain still fighting in vain against the truth that her heart was already beginning to realise.

“But you have years, decades. Your mother was much older.” Wilhemina railed.

Cordelia could do nothing to ease the torment she could see brewing behind her girlfriend’s eyes, torment she had caused.

“There are no certainties” she sighed. “It could be decades, it could be months.”

And suddenly the fire burning in Wilhemina’s eyes was gone. Everything was gone. Her brave, tender girlfriend who had extended her battered heart towards her, with the silent plea “please be gentle”, was gone. Instead replaced by the guarded, aloof woman Cordelia had met all those years ago. Eyes dead. Face impassive. Too terrified to give the world even the slightest glimpse inside.

“Mina?” she tried gently.

“Was it fun?” she whispered, voice completely devoid of emotion. “Was it fun to make me slowly fall in love with you, to need you. Did it make you feel powerful to watch me make a fool of myself sharing things with you I would never have dreamed of sharing with anyone else? All the while knowing that-” Her voice cracked, even in her anger unable to utter the terrible truth.

“I should have known” she hissed, wiping angrily at a tear that had escaped unbidden. “Of course you wouldn’t have agreed to stay with a cripple like me, watch me wither and age. You only agreed because you knew you would never have to deal with it. That you would be long gone by then.”

“We don’t know that” Cordelia keened. “We could have decades still. I want nothing more than to grow old with you, whatever that looks like, for either of us.”

“Or we could have months” Wilhemina snapped in return.

“Why do you always have to think the worst?”

“Because it’s usually true” Wilhemina bellowed. “Because every time I am stupid enough to believe there is something good in my life, and allow myself to get attached, it always just ends up being ripped away. Well I hope you’ve had your laugh, because I’m done being the butt of your joke.”

“Mina”

But Cordelia’s pleas fell on deaf ears as Wilhemina fled the room, her only response being the slamming of the door. All Cordelia could do was fall to her knees and sob, surrounded by the broken pieces of each of their hearts which lay scattered across her office floor. Pieces which they had each so painstakingly glued back together with love and patience, now even more damaged than before.

Cordelia had no idea how long she sat there for. She wasn't really aware of much. Not the passage of time, nor the tingling of her leg falling asleep or the burning of her tear reddened eyes. All she could see or feel or think was the image of her girlfriend, playing over and over again in her mind's eye, like some cruel cinema reel stuck on a loop of the moment she had broken her heart.

More than anything Cordelia wanted to make this right, to lift this burden from her stoic girlfriend who was already forced to bare far too much. But there was no way that she could. For the ugly truth had finally been revealed and there was no way she claw back their blissful ignorance, which lay in tatters much like Wilhemina's trust in her.

She deserved this pain. She deserved this guilt. She deserved to sit with this for as long as Wilhemina needed. She deserved to suffer. Because she had done the one thing she wasn't sure if Wilhemina could ever forgive - she had lied. She had spent years carefully building her trust, trying to desperately prove to her girlfriend that not everyone would betray her, that she could be trusted with her heart. And she had betrayed that.

Suddenly, everything else faded away and she was met with sickening clarity. And as she rose on trembling legs she could only pray that she wasn't too late.

As she threw open their bedroom door and caught sight of her girlfriend, Cordelia nearly collapsed with relief. That was until she caught sight of the suitcase atop their bed, clothes spilling from it with uncharacteristic disregard.

"I thought I made it perfectly clear that I did not want to talk to you" Wilhemina hissed, hackles raised in a vain attempt to distract from the tears still coursing down her cheeks. "But of course what I want doesn't matter, does it? Because it always has to be about you and what you want and what you think is best."

While it stung Cordelia bore the insults willingly, almost welcoming the pain.

"But that would require you respecting me" Wilhemina continued, voice straining against the pain of her words. "Which you evidently do not. You couldn't even respect me enough to stay the hell away. Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I love you too much to let you walk away"

Wilhemina rolled her eyes in a vain attempt to hide the cracks forming in her armour. "So what I want doesn't matter" she huffed.

"Of course it matters, it always matters.” Cordelia pleaded. “But I am not going to let you go without a fight. You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. Better than becoming the supreme-”

She was cut off as Wilhemina openly scoffed.

“It's true” she insisted. “I would give all of this up in a heartbeat if it meant I could have one minute longer with you. But as much as I want that, it isn’t how this works."

Cordelia watched as the fight seemed to drain out of Wilhemina, the weight of acceptance hanging heavy on her battered frame.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she warbled, voice barely above a whisper.

"The same reason you didn't.” Cordelia murmured, unable to meet her girlfriend’s eyes. “I was scared. I didn't want to acknowledge what was going to happen. I can deal with the idea of dying, I’ve come to terms with that, but what I can not deal with is the idea of leaving you behind."

When Cordelia finally lifted her gaze she was met with the sight of her girlfriend’s deep brown eyes, brimming with tears but finally, blessedly, meeting her own. The vacant stare was gone, replaced with a palpable anguish, but also with so much love. This was all the encouragement that Cordelia needed to gather Wilhemina tightly into her arms, as if this would somehow shield her from the cruelty of the future. And she had never felt anything sweeter than the feeling of her girlfriends arms wrapping around her waist in return, clinging to her with equal fervor.

"It's not fair" Wilhemina whimpered. "I don't know how to do this without you anymore"

"I don't either" Cordelia admitted, heart breaking all over again at her girlfriend’s stricken confession. "And I know it's terrifying and I know it is going to hurt. But throwing it away now isn't going to fix that"

"I don't want to lose you" she sobbed, clinging tighter to Cordelia’s slender frame, as if she somehow, if she just held on tight enough, she would be able to stop them being ripped apart.

"I know sweetheart” Cordelia cooed, subconsciously swaying in an effort to soothe her girlfriend’s battered heart. “I don't want to lose you either. So please don't push me away"

And suddenly there she was again, her brave Mina, lifting her tear stained eyes to meet her own. Even though she had been hurt, even though she was terrified, still willing to fight.

“I'll try" she choked.

Cordelia didn’t know if she would ever feel worthy of such bravery or such love, but she would spend every moment she had left trying to repay it.

"Thank you, honey" she whispered, tenderly cradling her girlfriend’s face in both her hands and wiping away the still flowing tears with her thumbs.

"I'm sorry, for the things I said earlier.” Wilhemina murmured. “I know you would never do that, I just…"

"I know honey, it's ok, I know.” Cordelia hushed. “But you were right, I should have told you."

"I should have too"

Cordelia tenderly wiped the last of the tears from her girlfriend’s cheeks before reaching to take her hands in her own, squeezing tightly, as if reinforcing the ardour of her promise with her touch.

"Whatever happens, whatever the future has in store, I love you more than anything. You are the bravest, strongest person I know and I will spend every day trying to be worthy of that."

The fervour of Cordelia’s words was too much for Wilhemina, who once again lost the battle with her tears. Cordelia gently drew her closer once more, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before taking her into her embrace, clinging tightly to the privilege of being able to call the redhead hers.

Even within the safety of Cordelia’s embrace, Wilhemina was still terrified, terrified at the idea of one day losing her, at the idea of having to walk alone once more. But as she stood there, cloaked in the sweetness and the ardour of Cordelia's love, she found she was willing to try anyway - to open her heart up to a love that would one day end. And while every bone in her body screamed at her to take the safer route, to turn tail and run before a deeper hurt could be inflicted, she was willing to try to be as brave as Cordelia believed her to be. Because, she reasoned, cradled reverently in Cordelia's embrace, how could she ever throw away something as precious as this.

Tags: @lovelypeasantjellyfish @okpaulson @lucyintheskywithxanax @in-cordelias-coven @stayevildarling @talulahmae @thesupremeswife @lntlmate

#sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #cordelia goode #mina x delia #ahs #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #wilhemina x cordelia #sarah paulson imagine

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randomrosewrites · 3 years

Text

From the beginning to the very end.

Seeing the one you love fall for someone else hurts.

Pairing: Diluc X GN reader (unrequited), mentioned Kaeya x reader (not focused on) Words: 3.3K Warnings/ tags: Alcohol/ drinking mention, unrequited love, reader drinks to cope at one point, general angst. a/n: This was requested by anon. I’ve taken the prompt and altered it a bit, Kaeya and Diluc are both emotionally complicated men *sigh* Someone help them.

Your arrival into Diluc’s life is with all the grace of a baby fawn attempting to stand. Choppy. Awkward. A tad pitiable.

It’s a Friday night at Angel’s Share. The worst ones to be bartender, and precisely why Diluc always drags himself into town to suffer for a few hours. It’s the days where the knights, both seniors and new recruits, gather to spend their weekly wages of mora. He knows the tradition well, after his time with the knights. He used to always sit in the back corner with Kaeya, the two giggling as they drank non-alcoholic cider.

…but the past is the past, and he refuses to dwell on it any further.

They trickle in sometime around 9pm. They’re easy to spot. Uniforms too pristine, armor too shiny. He watches as wide-eyed recruits alongside experienced knights file into the reserved table at the back.

The brave one is sent from the flock to the bar, to order drinks for the table. Diluc gives you his best intimidating stare, arms crossed over his chest. You fiddle with the front of your uniform as you approach the bar, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

“Hello Sir, uh, could I have uhm…” you take a second to count on your fingers. “Ten drinks, please?”

Well, at least you can get your sentence out. (Sawyer, one of the new recruits from a few months back, mumbled everything. It took Diluc ten minutes to figure out what he wanted.) “What kind?”

“Oh…the regular kind?”

He could make this easier on you, but he decidedly doesn’t. “There is no regular kind. Dandelion wine? Lamp-Grass cider?”

“Uh, ten glasses of dandelion wine, please.”

He raises a brow. “Everyone is of age, even the recruits?”

“Oh, yes, the younger ones’ curfew ended an hour ago.”

One quick glance over proves your truth. Fine. He gets the drinks ready quite easily. It’s just pouring wine from the barrels into their tankers. Once he has them on a tray, he says, “Ten thousand Mora.”

“Oh…uh…” you stare at your feet in embarrassment, apparently just realizing that yes drinks cost mora. “I-“

“If you can’t pay,” he starts, annoyance seeping into his voice. “Then I suggest you get out.”

Maybe that was a bit too harsh. Your jaw clenches. Your hands tighten into fists. Diluc thinks you’re about to burst into tears or run out the front door when a hand lands on your shoulder.

“Not to worry, I’ll cover the costs for this.”

Of course. He’d be here, of all nights.

You look to your saviour, lighting up. “Oh, thank you, Captain Kaeya.”

Kaeya smiles amicably, patting your shoulder. “My pleasure. Join the others, I’ll carry the drinks there shortly.”

You hurry off to the table, not one to disobey your superior’s orders. Diluc and Kaeya are left alone at the bar, the former frowning, the later smiling.

Kaeya places a sack of mora on the counter. “Feel free to count it, every coin is in there.”

Diluc snatches it, tossing it under the cabinet. (Kaeya always pays in full. Either that or he purposely omits a single coin, just to fuck with him. But it’s not worth it for Diluc to count ten thousand coins individually.)

“Corrupting fresh recruits already, aren’t you?” Diluc says.

Kaeya chuckles dryly. “Why, Master Diluc, I’d never do such an atrocious thing.”

Kaeya picks up the tray before Diluc can make some sort of witty retort. “Now, I’ve got to amuse myself. Enjoy your night, Master Diluc.”

Kaeya remains out of his hair for the rest of the night. By all accounts, it’s a good thing, but tonight, it only makes Diluc moodier. Especially when he glances over at the knights table, spotting the captain’s arm strung over the back of your chair.

---

“What on earth are you doing?”

You jump, turning to face Diluc, leaning against the nearby tree. He’d been patrolling the area for threats when he’d noticed you, swinging your sword about in the middle of Windrise. The fact that he’d managed to catch you by surprise unnerved him. (You were a knight; you’d need to learn to be alert.)

“Practicing, Master Diluc.” You wipe the sweat from your face with your shirt and Diluc quickly averts his eyes to a group of slimes slugging around the Anemo Arcon Statue. He’d have to deal with them later.

“Don’t the knights have a dedicated training area?” They do. He knows this, outside the city walls or on the northern shores of Cider Lake, he used to go there and take recruits when he was a captain, make them run up and down the sloping hills all afternoon in full armour.

“Ah, they do, yes, but I mostly prefer to train alone.”

Diluc chews on your words for a moment, before pushing off from the tree and striding towards you. “Hold your sword again.”

You hesitate, drawing your sword and holding it like you were doing previously.

Diluc covers his hands with yours, moving them along the sword. “Adjust your hands like this. You’ll have more force when you swing and you’re less likely to hurt yourself if you hit something solid.”

He steps back, allowing you to swing a few times in the air. “Use your chest more, not just your arms – good. Again.”

About an hour passes, with Diluc giving instructions, doing a very bad job of hiding his stares, and with you doing as he says. He doesn’t realize how long it’s been until you sheath your sword, and the sun has set over the horizon.

“I apologize, Master Diluc, but I’ve got to get back to the headquarters now.”

“Oh.” He says, stupidly. Of course, you’d have to leave, to go back to the knights, but that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “I see, yes. I suppose you should.”

You bow respectfully. “Thank you for your help, you really are as sweet as Captain Kaeya says.”

He suppresses the growl that rises from his throat. Figures, Kaeya would call him that. “Mhm.”

You salute him, the standard knight’s salute. He nods his head as you start back towards Mondstadt, pondering why he decided to help you, until you fade from sight.

---

He swears, he doesn’t mean to keep meeting you like this.

He had been exploring an abandoned domain north of Wolvendom, looking for any members of the abyss order. Fortunately – or unfortunately, there hadn’t been anything but slimes and old artifacts inside, and he’d come out soaked head to toe with water.

He was starting up the path when he saw you huddled by an electro crystal, poking it with your sword and jolting back when it shocked you.

“…you can’t break those with normal attacks,” he says. “They’re elemental crystals.”

You turn around, not surprised by his sudden presence (good, you’re learning.) “You can break them?”

Arcons, do they not teach the knights anything anymore?

Instead of arguing, he simply demonstrates, calling flames to his claymore and slicing the rock. An explosion of pyro and electro occurs, shattering the crystal into purple chunks.

You gape at the crystals. “Wow, you’re amazing, Master Diluc.”

He flushes at your praise, coughing and adjusting his tie. “It’s nothing. What are you interested in with the crystals anyways?”

“Captain Albedo requested them. I guess I’ll have to get outrider amber to gather them, or klee, perhaps…'' you collect the chunks into a small bag, standing up and brushing the dust from your pants. “Thank you again, Master Diluc. You always seem to be helping me out a lot.”

“It’s no trouble,” he says, swallowing for a moment. His throat feels tight and his palms are sweating in his gloves.

You salute him. He nods. They’re your usual goodbyes, nowadays. He watches you march off, the crystals clinking around in your bag.

“Wait,” he splutters, the objection coming from his throat without thinking.

You turn around, waiting expectantly. Diluc swallows, again. (When did he get so warm?)

“Next time, please just call me Diluc.”

You blink carefully, then smile. “Alright, Diluc.”

The sound of his name on your tongue makes his heart race and sends electricity through his stomach.

(And not just because of the nearby electro crystals.)

---

Two days later, a bag of purple electro crystals appears at your doorstep in the Knight’s headquarters. There is no name from the sender, but you suspect who it is from the emblem of the dawn winery logo upon the bag.

You smile to yourself, then hurry to deliver the goods to Captain Albedo.

---

“Do you have a crush on someone, Master Diluc?”

He nearly drops his teacup in his lap, sputtering into his drink. Adeline doesn’t even flinch, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his mouth with. His owl preens herself on its stand, indifferent to her master’s squabbling.

“P-pardon?”

“I asked if you had a crush on anyone.”

“…what would make you consider that?”

She clears the table swiftly, shrugging. “You seem to be in good spirits. You’ve been smiling more, and you’re more pleasant.”

He frowns. “Are you suggesting I’m usually moody?”

Adelinde’s face remains blank. “Not at all, sir.”

She bows and leaves him to his thoughts and paperwork.

A crush. Ridiculous…he’s not a schoolboy. And besides, he hasn’t been acting differently. Sure, he’s taken more shifts on Friday night, and he’s been visiting Windrise more often in hopes of maybe running into a certain knight, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s all justifiable.

…

His owl cocks her head at him, even she knows when he’s lying to himself.

“…don’t look at me like that.” He huffs, turning around in his desk, back facing the owl.

---

Once the thought is in Diluc’s head, he can’t get it out. It doesn’t help that over the next few months, your presence around him only amplifies his feelings.

Every breath you take, every little movement you make - it transfixes him. He feels drawn to you naturally, wanting to be closer to you, coming up with more and more ridiculous topic ideas just so he can hear you speak.

He feels happy. He begins looking forward to the next day and the next week, not apprehensive about what new problems might arise.

And just as soon as he’s settled into the norm, the world decides to rip it away from him.

---

The knights file into their usual spots on a friday night. Diluc greets them with the same, stiff nods, except this time, his scowl isn’t as deep, and the furrow in his brows is loose. For the knights coming to celebrate means that he might have a chance to see you.

And he does. Diluc can’t stop the way his lips turn upwards when the door swings open and you file in. You give a wave, he nods back.

He does his best to not stare as you socialize with the other knights - (there really are a lot of them here tonight. Even Captain Albedo is among them) - but he fails miserably. So much so that he forgets to serve the other patrons up front.

It’s a relief when you eventually wander over to the bar. You don’t even need to tell him your order anymore - he just gets to doing it immediately.

“Big celebration?” he asks.

You slide into the seat and smile. “I suppose you could say that.”

He raises a brow and pushes the drinks towards you, leaning on the bar. “Oh? Is it a knights secret I’m not privy to know about?”

You swat at him harmlessly and his breathing hitches at your chuckle. “No, not a secret. It’s just nice to celebrate for celebration's sake, you know?”

He does not, but nods anyways. “I suppose it is. In any case, you seem very happy.”

You cover your growing smile with your hand. “Do I?”

“Yes, did you get a promotion? Replace Kaeya as Cavalry Captain?”

“No! No, nothing like that…” you laugh and shake your head. “But Kaeya…”

He hadn’t expected his joke to actually hold some truth. He presses, “Kaeya?”

“Well, we -” you avert your gaze, eyes softening in bliss. “We’re um - a thing. Now.”

Diluc pales, nearly falling off the bar.

“Oh.”

“Yes...please keep it a secret, we don’t want anyone knowing just yet.”

Diluc’s head spins. It feels like a lump of coal is stuck in his throat. He swallows and tries to stop his breaths from becoming erratic.

“Congratulations… I hope-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I wish the best for the both of you.”

“Thank you, Diluc.” you reach over and pat his hand. He barely conceals a flinch, wanting to rip it away. “

You walk back to the knights, and for the rest of the night, he operates on autopilot, picking at the remaining shattered pieces of his heart.

---

It hurts.

Rain and sweat get in his eyes. He ducks to avoid a swing of a club, swinging his fiery claymore in retaliation. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, only that his hands are numb from gripping his weapon for so long. A long gash runs up his side, stinging each time he moves.

The ache in his chest hurts more.

How naive, how silly, to entertain the idea that you’d ever like him back.

Diluc closes his eyes, and consumes himself in violence once more.

---

He doesn’t frequent the bar for the next week. Enough to collect his thoughts. Enough to smother the pang of hurt he feels whenever he gazes at you.

He’s above this, above being debilitated by his emotions.

(He knows he is not.)

---

Things get better, as they always do. Things always go back to a level of normal. He returns to work at the bar. He returns to looking forward to your visits.

The front door swings open. He expectantly turns, smile dying on his face when he sees who’s entered.

“Jeez. You think I’ve just murdered someone how you’re looking at me,” Kaeya sighs.

“What do you want?” Kaeya’s the last person he wants to see. Especially since - since -

“Can’t I just drop by for a drink?” Kaeya takes his seat at the corner of the bar. Diluc resists the urge to throw the glass in his hand. He never gets to the point, always meandering about the issue, chatting about this or that until the other party is exhausted trying to humour him.

Not Diluc.

“You’re never here to just drink. Out with it.”

“…I was just wondering how you feel about our newest knight.”

He inhales through his teeth and sets the glass he was polishing down. Fine, if that’s the game Kaeya was going to play, he’d play along. “I think it’s improper for you to be engaged in a relationship with your subordinates.”

Kaeya grimaces, keeping his eye on the wood counter. “Do you say that because you care for workplace standards, or are you perhaps-”

“No.”

“ - jealous?”

The towl ignites in his hands. “Fuck off. Get out of my bar. Now.”

Kaeya sighs, but gets up from his seat, hands raised. “Alright, fine...but If it’s any consultation, I understand how you feel.”

“You don’t get to know where I’m coming from,” each word feels like acid down Diluc’s throat. “You don’t ever get to understand how I feel.”

Kaeya smiles sadly. “I know. And because of that, I’m not gonna come in the way between you two.”

Kaeya opens the door and waves before Diluc can question him. “Good night, master Diluc.”

The door shuts behind him as he leaves. Diluc tosses the towel in the trash, blood boiling underneath his skin.

---

He doesn’t see much of you or Kaeya for a week. (Which he supposes is good. If he saw Kaeya now, Barbados wouldn’t be able to stop him from getting into a fight.)

The next time he sees you is late one night, when most of the patrons have left. You look a mess, hair disheveled, feet dragging against the floor. You mumble your order to him before dragging yourself upstairs, one foot at a time.

Diluc brings what you requested up – one of his strongest liquors – to find you staring off into space. He sets your glass down gently, and you snap from your reprieve.

“Here’s your order. If you need anything…just let me know.”

You nod, keeping your eyes focused downwards. “Thank you, Diluc.”

His heart breaks at how defeated you sound. He returns to his post for the remainder of the night.

Never once does the cavalry captain come in. Diluc has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s many hours later when the tavern closes for the night. Diluc shucks on his coat and goes upstairs, finding you half-asleep on the table, empty glass clutched tight in your grasp.

He shakes you gently and you stir with a moan. “It’s closing time. Do you need help getting home?”

You laugh bitterly. “Where is ‘home’?”

Diluc wordlessly slips the glass from your hands. “Come on, let’s get you back to the knights headquarters.”

Exhausted, you relent, leaning on Diluc heavily as he escorts you out of Angel’s Share. The smell of alcohol is strong on both your breath and clothes. It makes Diluc’s nose wrinkle.

You stumble over stones and steps. The walk back to the knights headquarters takes twice as long as it normally would. Diluc doesn’t mind, instinctively activating his vision when he feels you shiver from the cold.

“I thought Kaeya loved me,” you say suddenly, resting your head on his shoulder. “He said he…”

Diluc doesn’t – can’t – say anything, not when the lump of guilt in his stomach threatens to tear him apart from the inside out.

---

Truthfully, he’d thought you would have left the Knights after that incident. It must have been beyond difficult - having to see the person who broke your heart every day.

But you don’t. Diluc already knew how determined and strong you are, and you prove to be stronger than he could have ever foresaw.

It’s rough. There are nights where you show up to the tavern, barely coherent and full of grief. But there are others where you show up with Albedo, or Amber, and he gets to see you smile again.

He observes you from afar, at windrise, training with Noelle, getting quicker and quicker with your sword each day.

The seasons come and go, snow falls and melts, and when the dandelions grow again, before he ever knows it, you’re a Captain yourself.

The tavern is full for your celebration. Wine flows freely - free of charge thanks to Diluc - and the air is abuzz with joyous conversation.

“My highest congratulations, Captain,” Diluc says, raising his own glass (non-alcoholic) in toast.

You clink cups with him, smiling in your new uniform. (You’re radiant, he thinks to himself). “I can’t thank you enough, Diluc...for everything. I’ve always seen you as one of my closest friends.”

Friends. The word cuts deeply into his heart. Yes, friends. But being friends is something that he is ok with. He can watch you thrive, watch you live your life, he can keep your presence in his life, a small candle flickering in the dead of winter.

He knows your heart is elsewhere, he sees it in your eyes whenever you see the colour blue, or whenever the scent of death-after-noon waffs through the air. Your grief isn’t as prominent, but still there.

He doesn’t know if your feelings for Kaeya, if you even have any after the breakup, will ever go away. Perhaps they’ll stay over you like a looming shadow for the rest of your life.

If only – he’ll think, on nights when you’ve fallen asleep on his couch, bottle of wine beside you – if only he hadn’t said anything, maybe you’d be happy with Kaeya.

But the past is the path, and he must look to the future. The future where he can stand by your side, in whatever way you’ll accept him.

(Alone from the beginning, alone in the end. Fitting, for someone like him.)

#i can't beleive this is 3.3k #*falls over*#diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc imagines #diluc fic #diluc fanfic #genshin impact fiction #diluc x y/n #diluc x you #my writing

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redorich · 3 years

Text

It stays in the pit

TW: sparring, weapons, cuts, fighting, hallucinations, minor mention of blood, angst

Hey it’s Split again! Follow me maybe? @split-em I have a lot more oneshots like these coming!

I like attention so maybe drop a like if you enjoy this! It’s about Hermit!Tommy sparring False,, but with a twist!!

This actually has so many words my fingers hurt aaaaaaaaa

Hey uh idk how to do a read more,, maybe if you want you can do that again pleasey? Also I love your hermit Tommy stuff keep up the great work!

(redorich here, thank you for the food lol)

‘It stays in the pit.’

Simple words that mean oh, so much.

When you’re reminded of the horrible memories that come with those words WHILE fighting, they mean so much more.

The newest build on hermitcraft is an underground, boxing ring style pit. There are stairs leading into a giant room below ground level with audience benches, a storage room with every different kind of weapon and armour, and a boxing ring in the middle.

When False offered to spar Tommy, she suggested they could do it in the new build that had not yet had its first official match. What made it even better, was that this would be Tommy’s first actual match against False since he first came to the server. She has been training him for months, improving his fighting techniques and strategies. You could say he went under her wing, and now he was ready to spread his own. This was a ‘student duels master’ fight, and the hermits wanted to witness it. They wanted to see how much Tommy had improved.

Though they over exaggerated juuuust slightly, because that sparring suggestion turned into a three (3) round mini tournament, and every single hermit wanted to watch.

Annoyingly bright lights shine down on the otherwise dark, amazingly massive room. The adrenaline in the air is intoxicating; downright addicting. Voices yell loudly, people scream and shout while waving, cameras are out, and Iskall is taking bets by the entrance.

Tommy and False stand across from each other, a confident smirk on each of their faces. The handle of an iron sword is gripped tightly in their hands, and the hermits watching are on the edge of their seats already. Tension mixed with excitement crashes down in waves. It chokes Tommy, but also sends his blood pressure through the roof. He feels like his head is underwater, but he’s walking on clouds. Never in his life has he been so excited yet so scared.

But god, does he want to win.

He exhaled, practically bouncing back and fourth as he waited for the countdown. False’s stare made him break into a cold sweat, but he composed himself. ‘This wouldn’t have been such a big deal if we were alone,’ he thought ‘but this is way more exciting than just fighting on the ground.’

That’s when he heard it.

Tommy looked up. The mayor, Scar, sat higher than any hermit in a chair on a ledge like you’d find in those old time-y theatres. His smile was proud, and he arched with peaked interest. “Holy shit,” Tommy breathed out, glancing back to his opponent “the mayor..”

B-Dub’s voice could be heard shouting with glee. He clearly was just as pumped as the rest of the audience, and you could head the smile in his voice as he counted down through a megaphone.

“Remember, no hard feelings. This is for fun!”

The fighter’s eyes met. False gave him a nod, Tommy looked down at his sword.

“WE ALL GOOD?!”

Tommy was shaking, out of fear or adrenaline he couldn’t tell.

“READY!”

False took in the younger boy, all she could think of was how proud of him she was. Look how far he had came. He went from this quiet and kept to himself boy, to an amazing friend that was full of energy.

“STEADY!”

Impulse looked quite concerned. He didn’t think it would become this big of deal, the sparring offer. But here he sat, chewing on his nails, waiting for what would happen. The rate the energy here made his heart rate increase was higher than any amount of sports drink or red bull could ever manage.

“SET!”

Tommy laughed. He needed to release everything. So he laughed, and felt all his stress melt away. Right now, fight. Right now, focus. Fight like she taught you.

“GO!”

Instantly, the teenager made the first move. No hesitation and certainly no mercy was shown as he swung his sword quick as lightning. It collided with the wood of False’s shield and he was thrown back slightly. False used this to her advantage and advanced on him, slicing horizontally with a small shake of her head.

“FALSE!! GO FALSE!!”

“TOMMY, DODGE!”

Tommy ducked, barely missing the sharp blade, and decided to fake. He stepped forward, jerking the sword forward and waited for False’s shield to come down from it’s position in front of her face before the cold metal cut her shoulder. His next swing was parried, and False managed to make him stumble to the ground as their blades touched and they both pushed with all their might. Cheers rang out, but both fighters knew it wasn’t over.

“WHAT THE-“

“YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING!”

“COME ON KID, LETS GO!”

He saw her raise her sword in the corner of his eye, and in an instant he rolled to the left. Successfully dodging the attack, Tommy quickly put an arrow in a crossbow and hit her..in the wrong arm. “Shit” he hissed. What would Technoblade think of that stupid mistake? False used the pause to take him by surprise and use her other arm to slash him in the thigh with her newly equipped iron axe.

“GET UP, GET UP!”

“COME ON DUDE, GET UP”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t stand. The boy raised one hand, and False stepped away with a smile. If this was anyone else, Tommy would’ve gotten angry. He would’ve cursed them out or spat on their shoe. But this was False, and he knew that smile was one of genuine happiness.

“THE WINNER OF ROUND ONE (1) IS FALSE!”

Screeches and ‘awws’ were muffled in Tommy’s ears by the sound of his heart. He panted, before a dopey grin found it’s way to his face. False helped the other stand, and Cleo was quick to administer healing potions to both of them. “Never let your guard down.” False advised. He could tell she wasn’t mad, but rather in the mood for a quick lesson.

Once the hermit’s noise had died down and the fighters were back in their corners, all healed to full health and full saturation, round two (2) began.

“READY!”

“I’m gonna beat ya, bitch” he swore in his now usual Tommy fashion. False shook her head and couldn’t bite back the chuckle that escaped her

“STEADY!”

“Stop swearing. And, in your dreams.”

“SET!”

“Lets turn this up then, yeah?”

“GO!”

It was different now, they both turned up the heat. They couldn’t help it, it was so much fun to spar and the hermits’ energy only made them feel better and more excited.

Tommy was first again, sprinting towards the older then jumping high with arms gripping an axe above his head. False held her shield up and ran, blocking his attack.

“OH MY GOD!”

“THIS IS NOTHING LIKE LAST TIME”

He slid back with a smirk and their blades collided again. False started running. Tommy loaded a crossbow and advanced, quickly dashing behind her and shooting her back. False hit the ground hard, but held up as she kicked forward and got back on her feet.

“YES! GO FALSE!”

“COME ON TOMMY, DONT TAKE THAT”

“TAKE HER DOWN!”

They ran together, Tommy swung, she dodged, she swung, he jumped out of the way. False blocked an incoming sword swing, but was shocked when she was jerked forward after a fish hook implanted itself in her shirt.

“WHAT??”

“WAIT WHAT”

He cried out, laughing the loudest he had in a long time, as he pulled False towards him with a fishing rod. He pinned her to the ground with his sword pointed to her neck. His grin spanned ear to ear.

“TOMMY!!! WOO LETS GOO!”

“THAT WAS AMAZING HOLY SHIT”

An uproar was heard, people were standing up and others stared in amazement. They totally forgot that was allowed, it seemed. False didn’t really think to use the fishing rod, she didn’t think Tommy would bother to either. But, Etho insisted on it anyway just in case. Same with the crossbow.

False raised a hand, accepting defeat. Tommy helped her up this time, his sweaty palm and bony fingers holding her hand that had knuckles white from her death grip on her sword. Impulse helped Cleo to pass them towels. The break started, and the two returned to their corners once again.

“TOMMY WINS ROUND 2 (2)!”

Tommy popped the cap off his water bottle and chugged it, gasping for breath. He had no idea how tired he was until now. His bones ached and his body screamed to stop, but he payed it no mind once again. He used the towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Cleo rubbed a healing potion onto his wounds. “You’re doing amazing, that fishing rod trick was awesome.”

“Thanks, Dream taught me it after I saw him use it in a manhunt.”

He stood back up, babbling on about how ‘all the women are going to be cheering me on when I win.’ False rolled her eyes “focus, Tommy. Women can wait.”

“WOMEN ARE IMPORTANT. I WOULD KNOW, IM A LESBIAN. WAIT, NO-“

“FINAL ROUND!!! THIS IS THE FINAL ROUND!”

Grian and Mumbo sat next to one another, the smaller of the two standing up with his hands on the rail in front of him as he cheered. He wanted to cheer for both, but he supposed for the sake of competition he had to pick a side, and decided he would support his newest friend Tommy. “LETS GOO! COME ON,, WOO!! GO TOMMY!!”

“READY!!”

“Tommy, I want you to know, no hard feelings, okay?” False looked at him. It wasn’t with pity, but friendship. Tommy nodded. “No matter what happens, it stays here.”

“STEADY!!!”

“It stays in the pit.” The moustached man mumbled, arms crossed and watching the two with peaked interest.

“What?” Grian questioned, sending a puzzled glance to the other hermit.

“It stays in the pit. Techno said it to me as a joke, he said it was something his friends said when he and Tommy duelled.” He explained, not taking his eyes off the boxing ring in the centre of the practically stadium-sized room.

“Oh..” Grian thought for a moment, before a smile formed on his face once again.

“SET!!!”

“IT STAYS IN THE PIT, TOMMY!!” He cheered, putting his fist in the air. He tried his hardest to make his voice heard, despite sitting a little ways away.

“What?” Tommy’s voice was small, and his eyes widened. His whole being stood still. Who was that? They didn’t..they didn’t just say..?

“IT STAYS IN THE PIT!!”

His eyes darted around the room, and suddenly the underground room seemed a lot smaller.

Tommy had never considered it a ‘pit.’ To him, it was a just a boxing ring that was below ground level slightly. It had no significance. He didn’t care what it was, he was just happy to have somewhere to fight.

But after hearing that, suddenly he was back in that dammed pit with his damned brother and his damned friends watching him

But after hearing that, suddenly False was no longer across from him

It was Technoblade

“GO GO GO!!!”

His iron sword dropped to the ground. “You killed Tubbo.” A look False had never seen before came across Tommy, and she didn’t know what to think. This wasn’t right.

All he could feel was pure rage. It fuelled his actions. The teen basically flew towards False at full speed. “What-“

“YOU KILLED TUBBO!” She was cut off as Tommy pinned her to the floor, “Tommy stop-“

“SHUT UP!” He spat violently, seeing nothing but red. His skinny hands clenched into fists as he threw punch after punch into her face.

“TOMMY!”

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK, GET HIM OFF”

“GET HIM OUT OF THE RING!” Scar ordered, his voice booming out over the crowds shocked gasps

“YOU BETRAYED POGTOPIA” He shouted, his voice loud and rough. This wasn’t Tommy. His eyes were cold and piercing, his face was flushed “YOU CALLED SCHLATT PRESIDENT, YOU SICK FUCK. YOU BETRAYED US!!” Big, salty tears ran down his cheeks as False’s wrists that attempted to block the punches were twisted. She screeched out in pain.

“ILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!” Tommy knuckles bled, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. All he ever wanted that day was to kill Technoblade. Techno had killed his best friend, and betrayed his own family. He deserved to die. “YOU BETRAYED ME AND WILBUR. I WANT TO KILL YOU!!”

Tommy’s arms were restrained by Etho and Doc. “LET ME GO, LET ME GO!” He trashed and kicked, blinded by anger and hurt. They exchanged horrified glances, and tried to calm him down. Nothing worked.

False was crying. Her eyes were already swelling up and she was just in the purest form of pain. Some hermits comforted her, while others dragged Tommy out of the ring and away from whatever the fuck just happened.

“TOMMY WHAT THE FUCK” he was screamed at by a couple people, while being shaken by the ones that could tell this wasn’t what it seemed.

“Stop it! Stop you’re making it worse! Let me through” Impulse pushed his way through the crowd, eyes widening as he saw the young boy snarling and pulling to get out of the two men’s grips. Tommy looked feral. “Stop crowding him!”

He knelt down and gently shook the other.

“Tommy, you’re in Hermitcraft. Okay? Grian’s here, Impulse is here, False is here. Technoblade is gone. Tubbo is okay. You’re safe, you’re in Hermitcraft.” He sighed with relief as Tommy came to, the anger in his eyes being replaced with tiredness and confusion.

“Wha..” Tommy went to grab his head, only to find his arms restrained. He panicked, “NO DREAM IM SORRY-“

“Calm down! Tommy you’re safe, you are restrained by Doc and Etho right now, okay? You tried to kill False.” Impulse explained

“I what?!” Tommy gasped, still trying to wiggle his way out. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why would he ever want to kill False?! Last thing he could remember is that he was sparring, then someone shouted something about..

“..the pit.” His voice went quiet. Impulse nodded in understanding. “Technoblade”

“..yeah.” Tommy thought about what happened. He thought False was his brother. He..he tried to hurt False.

Back in the audience, Grian sat completely still, staring in shock. Mumbo had a hand clamped over his mouth. The smaller looked to his friend, scared. “Mumbo, Did..did Techno tell you why he duelled Tommy?” He shook his head

“No..but he said Tommy wasn’t happy Techno won. I thought he meant the dude was a sore loser..”

Grian and Tommy exhale in sync, their hearts beating fast and hard, trying to process everything.

“What the fuck did I just do”

—————

This has like,, 2 700 words kill meeee

Well I hope you enjoyed that, I accidentally hyperfixated on the idea of Tommy getting pit flashbacks after reading an ask about it so now it’s 3AM! I got this done in 2 hours!

Should I upload these to Ao3??? Let me know!

#hc x dsmp #mcyt #hermit!tommy au #tommyinnit #grian #technoblade #falsesymmetry #other peoples writing #submission

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weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years

Text

Promises (Reader x Zemo)

Zemo and his guard make their escape

Word Count: 3,395

Warnings: Violence. Part 2 of the Escape Series, Here is Part 1 Zemo Tag List: @lucky-luck-lucky @neoarchipelago @mrs-mischief-209 @londoninamerica

“This is a terrible fucking idea” You kept Zemo close behind you as you rounded the tight corner, the deafening sound of the alert alarm had started blasting the second someone realised a prisoner was no longer in their cell. You’d tried your best to get as far through the plan as possible but part of this involved trusting him to get you both out of here and something irritating in the back of your mind was making you doubt that decision. The corridor was in darkness except for cuts of light from the small windows high up towards the ceiling - sunrise was almost over. “Well I hate to inform you my dear but I’m just following your plan” Zemo whispered back, following closely at your heels as you both half walked, half ran down the corridor. “Also, may I add, you look beautiful in this light”

“Shut up” you hissed.

The alarms blaring in the corridors were making your heart pound almost as loudly. You were running out of time, you know you’d planned this down to the last second but this was reckless in the best of circumstances. The Raft was no normal prison; it was a prison for enhanced persons which meant security was tighter and much less likely to fail. Early morning was your choice due to the lack of guards around on each floor; you’d made it so that you were on inspection duty again. Due to the limited prisoners things had gotten lazy around here and you figured you could only make this work to your advantage. It was going well, it was perfect even. You’d given up trying to avoid cameras as you ran down the service corridor towards a blind spot you knew existed that would give you a moments respite ready for the final step. You would bet money on the fact they knew it was you doing this so as much you were aiming to get himout it was also imperative to get yourself out too. Who else would it be? It was Zemo and there was only one person in this whole place who would want to break his cocky ass out and that was you.

“Your friend better show up” you whispered through gritted teeth trying to steady your breathing.

“He will” Zemos breathing was just as fast but his face remained stoic. He watched you when he thought you were looking, curious eyes scanning your face. You presumed he was calculating how best to get rid of you when he was out of this place but you were doing this to give him the benefit of the doubt. Much like everyone else The Raft housed he was here because he thought he was doing the right thing. Everything he did was for his family and you couldn’t help but feel for that side of him. The man who kept his promises.

You rifled through the backpack you were carrying and handed him a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie to change into “Wear this; I’m not walking you around wearing that uniform”. He smiled taking them from you instantly pulling the top of his prison uniform over his head; you hastily diverted your eyes. Both of you were huddled in an enclosed part of the corridor to stay out of sight of anyone who may come searching, a great choice for safety. However this also meant that, despite the fact you diverted your eyes, you could feel his bare skin brushing against your arms as he moved to change.

“I’ve had guards watching me use the bathroom for months dear one, do you really think I’m concerned by you seeing me change?” he chuckled quietly before handing you his discarded clothes, “Also how did you know my sizes?” he asked adjusting the hoodie that sat perfectly across his shoulders.

“I read your file” you shrugged. Your phone beeped in your pocket, the message simply read ‘On the roof’

You grabbed Zemo by the scruff of the hoodie and pulled him closer “Do exactly as I tell you, got it?”

He nodded “Of course, a woman in charge is simply irresistible”

You scoffed and started dragging him along the service corridor. There was an access point to the roof along here that stupidly sat in a complete blind spot from the cameras. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you heard a clear, ringing gunshot behind you “Stop right there” You sighed, knowing the gruff tones of your superior officer anywhere; you raised your hands mockingly and spun in place on your heels staring him down. Zemo followed your motions throwing you a quick, indiscernible look before his back was turned to you. “Of course it would be you. You and your boyfriend better keep your hands up where I can see them” “David listen – “ he cut you off by firing another warning shot. “Shut up” he shouted, voice reverberating off the metal walls. He reached up and spoke into the radio that was clipped to his shoulder. “Did you bring what I told you too?” Zemo whispered over his shoulder. You stuttered, your brain was going at 30 miles an hour and it was hard to keep yourself on point. You knew exactly what he was talking about; you could feel the metal of it pressing into your back. “Yes but no, you can’t” you mumbled, your eyebrows raised in panic as Zemo turned to you. You internally rolled your eyes at how surprised you felt by his calmness, it was like you’d forgotten who he was.

“I said don’t move” you heard David shout, another warning shot hitting the roof. You flinched and urged Zemo turn around with wide eyes.

“It’s now or never. Do you trust me?” Zemo asked simply.

You paused, searching his face for any sign of deception. Sighing you lowered your arms, you blocked out the frantic shouting from David as best you could by keeping your eyes trained on Zemos. You could see David in your periphery with his gun raised; you slipped your hands behind your back and under your shirt. You pulled out the weapon you’d been given by Zemos friend and slotted it into his hands.

Before you could blink Zemo spun with the gun raised. You had expected him simply to shoot but he began walking slowly forward towards David, you panicked and your feet stumbled after him. He shot one hand back firmly to stop you before returning it to its steady position holding the gun.

“Stop right there Zemo” David shouted, his gun also raised and trained on Zemo who was steadily still walking towards him. You could see Davids confused panic matching your own.

You shuffled on your feet wanting to shout out to him to stop, did he have a death wish?! Then you remembered the story he’d told you about Siberia and your heart pounded harder. He’d held a gun in his hand then too but you certainly don’t have the bulletproof Blank Panther armour to stop him this time. ‘Please tell me he’s not going to commit suicide by cop and just leave me here’ you thought to yourself, begging to the voice inside your own head. David was practically screaming instructions, ranting demands in his confusion at Zemos steely defiance. Then before you could ascertain what happened Zemo fired a shot. David dropped – it was that quick. Mere seconds. Blood oozed slowly out onto the cold concrete floor and you stared half in shock.

“You know for a man who was always so hot on officers wearing protective uniforms you’d think he’d a least wear a scrap of armour himself” you whispered, thinking out loud. As Zemo reached you once more you tsk’d and smacked his chest hard “Don’t show off like that again!” He chuckled and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. Pushing his hair back he then gestured to the laddered stairs that lead to the roof, “After you” You made your way to clamber up the ladder, “Don’t stare at my ass!”

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

As you reached the roof the helicopter blades were already going, winds blasted you both causing your hair to swirl in front of your face. You watched Zemo greet the pilot with a small wave and he began walking forward towards the open helicopter door. For some reason it was at this moment your body froze. Your hair whipped your face and you struggled to stay in place with the force of the winds but you couldn’t move your feet. You’d given up everything, just like that – he’d somehow convinced you to give up everything for him. There was no way to come back from this, not one single way.

You wanted to scream at yourself for being stupid or naive but you couldn’t help yourself - you trusted him. You didn’t understand how or why but you did; something about him made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth and never look back. If someone asked for an explanation you wouldn’t have the words and that was a strangely beautiful notion to you.

Something told you he was a good man; despite his past and all he had done he was a good man. He had murdered, tortured and maimed but to you he was a lost soul who needed company. A man who had lost everything and fought like hell to keep one simple promise.

He shouted your name over the whirring blades, you looked up to see he had stopped also and he was running back to you, crouched low to avoid getting hit.

“Second thoughts?” he asked as he got close enough to you to lower his voice, a small smile played on his lips. You shook your head but didn’t speak. He stepped closer to you again, almost toe to toe “I apologise about your friend”

“H-he wasn’t a friend”

“Then why did you stop?”

You opened and closed your mouth stupidly, like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out. You felt him cautiously put his hands on your upper arms, running his thumbs over your skin.

“I promised I would protect you, you deserve a life outside of this prison as I do” You noticed that despite the strength of his Sokovian accent it was also calm and delightful in its gravelly tone. You found it almost comforting listening to the way he formed his words so delicately.

That was the moment you realised it wasn’t that you didn’t believe him, as he spoke you trusted what he was saying, you trusted he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t Zemo that had made you stop.

“It’s just… this is the first time I’ve been in fresh air in 9 months”

His eyebrows rose in surprise at your admission before his face softened, he reached up and ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He didn’t speak but took your hand and pulled just a little. You staggered on your feet but followed, he placed his hand softly on the back of your head as you both moved together to keep you low and out of harm.

He stepped in first, speaking in Sokovian to the pilot whom he called Oeznik. Scrambling in behind him you gathered your backpack between your feet. You sat huddled against him as a deep shiver wracked through your body. He looked down with sympathy set behind his eyes and leaned his arm across your shoulder. You leaned forward out of his touch suddenly and bent down for your bag.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean too-“ he began hesitantly, afraid that he’d offended you with his physical affection, but you stopped him by sitting up and placing a small plastic wrapped package into his lap.

“What is this?” he asked curiously, turning it over in his hands before unravelling the wrapping slightly. Small hard multi-coloured candies tumbled out into his waiting palm.

“Turkish Delight. You said your son liked them.” you blushed at your own words, embarrassed at the familiarity you showed him and you were unable to hold his eye contact as you continued “I thought it would a comforting introduction back into the world”

He unwrapped a sweet and popped it into his mouth, he closed his eyes and a soft smile spread across his face. You watched him for a second before he opened his eyes; you gave him a shy unsure look before he leant in and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you milaya”

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

“Holy shit” you whispered under your breath.

The room he led you into was expansive, he’d told you this was one of his homes in the area but the place looked like a palace inside. Everything was adorned in deep ornate gold tones with rich ruby and burnt orange colours intertwined. The ceilings were impossibly high and housed a huge crystal chandelier that twinkled in the beaming sunlight that came through large elaborate windows at the back of the room. The floors under your feet were intricate mosaic tile and you suddenly felt the need to tread a little lighter in your heavy boots.

“Impressive isn’t it?” he smirked; he gesticulated to a rack of clothes that was against one wall. “You need to change, pick anything you like” and with that statement he disappeared behind a curtain. He was still sort of visible to you, ruffling around in what you presumed were his own clothes.

“So what, I break you out of prison and you give me a dress? Seems like a fair deal” you said sarcastically, voice raised so he could hear you.

“No, you break me out of prison and I give you the life I promised you. If you want it” he shouted back.

“You’ll be on the run for the rest of your born days Zemo. What life?!” that panic had set back in again now you were out in the real world. Your fingers tapped against your thighs and you stared around you wide eyed. This was all so overwhelming.

“Exactly. We can go wherever, whenever. We’ll stay in the shadows and live how we want too”

He appeared from behind the curtain, he was now dressed cleanly in fresh black jeans and an aubergine purple turtleneck. He draped a fur collared coat around his shoulders and extended his arms “You like it?” he grinned at your staring.

You swallowed hard and nodded. He looked expensive and far out of your league. As you absentmindedly smoothed rich silk materials between your fingers you suddenly remembered you’d run away with a Baron. The teasing smirk still played on his lips as he approached you, he traced down your arm watching the way his touch raised goosebumps on your skin.

“You think people are just going to let you go? The Raft will be looking for you. The Wakandans! You think they are just going to let this slide?”

He shushed you and pushed hair out of your eyes “What I said was no lie, you deserve a life and I’m going to give it to you. A woman as skilled and beautiful as you deserves to show off no?”

You swallowed again, nodding gingerly at his words trying to convince yourself more than him to calm down and trust him.

“Why am I picking out dresses?” you asked quietly, noticing you were still slipping silk material through your fingers that belonged to the beautiful dresses far beyond your pay grade.

“We’re going out” he said matter of factly, walking across the room and pouring himself something from the decanter on the side.

“We can’t go out!” you protested frantically, abandoning your dress choices and scurrying after him. You grabbed him by the forearm of his free arm and gripped him tightly.

“I’ll only take you to places where I know you will be safe. Let me show you freedom” he whispered, leaning close to your face. Whispers of whatever golden brown liquid he was drinking filled your nostrils and you exhaled the breath you had been holding. He put the glass down and spun you so your back was against his chest, his breath ghosted over your exposed neck and you resisted the urge to shiver. He directed your body towards the wrack of clothes and brought his lips to your ear, “Plus any chance to see you out of that guards uniform would be a blessing”

You tutted and wriggled out of his grasp, rolling your eyes at him over your shoulder before turning away hiding a blushing smile.

You hummed to yourself, pushing clothes back and forth on the rack before you pulled out a wine red dress, admiring its beauty. The red was deep against your pale skin, the feeling of the silk was like butter and the thought of it brushing your upper thighs made you tremble.

Like he could read your mind Zemo had walked quietly behind you and placed a hand lightly against your thigh, brushing his fingers with just a little pressure. His voice at your ear snapped you out of the trance “It will suit you”

You took the dress, grabbing a pair of shoes, and sauntered behind the curtain. Gingerly starting to remove your clothes that were sticking to you with sweat you thought about how you could probably do with a shower but something told you there was no time. Your body was thrumming with anxiety, your first night of freedom from that place – for the both of you – and mostly you wanted to relax and enjoy Zemos company. Talking to him without bullet proof glass and steel bars between you seemed like bliss in your head. The thought of getting to brush his hair back as he spoke, like you had thought of doing so many times, made your fingertips tingle. But you were still fighting back a nervous tremble that shook your entire body, was this going too far? Was it too soon? He could sense your anxiety from behind the curtain as you moved quietly but hastily so he spoke up, voice soft “I mean it, you are mine. I keep safe what is mine” You poked your head out from behind the curtain holding the gold shoes you were about to slip on; you raised a stern eyebrow at his presumption that you were ‘his’. He smiled, playfully trying to peek behind the curtain but you pulled it up to cover yourself “You know what I mean” he said.

You giggled and pulled the curtain back fully, watching his eyes drift down your figure as you smoothed the silk of the dress over your curves self-consciously and bent to fasten the shoes, “I know” you said with a soft smile.

He guided you closer to him with light hands, just the cautious tips of his fingers creating a tantalising pressure on your hips, “You look simply ravishing” he gushed; accent accentuating the low gravel of his voice. You simpered and shook your head, he tsk’d at your defiance “You do, a princess!”

You openly laughed this time, pushing against his chest teasingly “Shut up”

He smiled with you, refusing to let go of your hips and pulling you back, the heels of your shoes clicked quietly on the tile floor as you stumbled closer to him raising your hands to press against his chest to steady yourself. He drifted his hands up your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, eyes studying every inch of you. His fingers linked gently into your hair, massaging ever so lightly against your scalp and you sighed closing your eyes for just a split second. Suddenly you felt lips press against yours; you gasped and he took that chance to deepen the kiss just a little. You whimpered softly and your fingers tightened their grasp on his clothes before sliding down to wrap around his waist as you melted against him. This wasn’t a moment for hot and heavy; it was affectionate and shy – a delicate exploration of something new, terrifying and captivating. As you felt him lean slightly back from you your eyes fluttered open, body protesting his momentary retreat.

“I keep my promises” he whispered against your lips.

“I know you do”

#mcu #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x ofc #baron zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo fluff #zemo fanfic #oeznik #zemo angst #baron zemo fic #zemo #falcon and winter solider series #falcon and winter soldier #tfatws

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