#I need to take that sad little wet creature and gnaw on him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ao3komorii · 3 years

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About Time (Timeskip Dimitri/Reader)

Decided to start transferring my works over, starting with my oldest oneshot from ao3 with Dimitri! It’s technically Dimileth since I like the Dimitri pairing from Byleth’s position, but it’s fully in 2nd person and I don’t use any names for Reader or anything.

This oneshot was entirely born from having a thought of “what if Dimitri accidentally saw Byleth’s boobs and then freaked out.” Also, this one is set after Dimitri comes out of his emo phase, but before the final battle in the BL route. Just a note, there is sex at the end. Enjoy :)

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You did not find yourself in over your head much anymore these days, but you also had a talent for finding new trouble.

You had been backed into a corner by multiple soldiers, and a horrible giant beast. The beast’s jaw opened slowly, revealing its gleaming teeth, dripping with a black substance as the soldiers by its side advanced, lances drawn and all pointed towards you. The Sword of the Creator at your side was growing weary, and you knew that it would not be enough to defeat the enemies in front of you.

You knew that your former students were on the battlefield somewhere, but you couldn’t see them beyond the great beast that caged you in by the wall. Either way, this was too dangerous a situation for them anyways. You could only hope they would stay away. Use the chance to escape while this creature feasted on your flesh and gnawed on your bones. You didn’t want to die, but you would not allow yourself to be the cause of any of your students’ deaths. It would break you. If anyone had to die, it should be you.

You held up your sword, ready to fight back, but the onslaught still overwhelmed you. You were able to quickly take out a few soldiers with the last remaining swipe of your mythic sword’s power before their lances got too close to you. You had no time to bask in your small victory as your sword refused to spring into action after your first swipe, only functioning as an average sword, and a dull one at that, as it lost all its power. And with its elongation use now locked away from you, you would only be able to defend yourself from close range.

This immediately proved deadly for you, as you swerved to avoid the creature’s teeth, but found yourself on the receiving end of an enemy’s lance as it sunk in and out of your shoulder. You screamed with pain and shock as you sunk down to your knees, dropping your sword to press a hand over your wound. It hurt so badly, and you looked up as a shadow loomed over you to see the monster and remaining soldiers all radiating with the satisfaction that they were about to snuff your life out. You couldn’t even gather the strength to pick your sword back up, the pain in your shoulder was too great. Even moving your hand sent unbearable jolts of pain up and down your arm. You could do nothing but watch, eyes drawn to the lance of the soldier that had stabbed you, what must be your blood dripping off the tip and onto the ground.

You felt all hope leave your mind as the abomination’s jaw opened wide, preparing to blast you with fire. Too weary to continue looking up, you turned your head down in defeat, hoping that your death would at least come fast. You heard a loud shout, but it was not enough to keep you from falling on your side, no strength left in your body to allow you to remain up. Your eyes slid closed, and death felt imminent.

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. There were sounds of screams and horrible growls, but you didn’t know what they meant, and couldn’t really rationalize anything but the extreme pain you felt. There was so much screaming and so much pain. It was hard to even think at all.

“Professor!”

A voice broke through your haze at about the same time you felt the pain lessen by a small fraction. You heard your name called, with more insistency, and you felt annoyed. You just wanted the pain to end so you could sleep. The pain was so great that in that moment you didn’t mind dying if it would end the pain.

“If she falls unconscious, we won’t be able to save her!” You heard a soft-voiced woman assert.

“Professor!” the calls of your name and title got louder, and more insistent, and your forehead felt wet as one voice rang out louder than the rest. “Please, Professor, I can’t lose you too...”

The pain lessened a little more, becoming less all-encompassing, and you allowed your eyes to open. You found your vision blurry until a warmth took over the feeling of pain in your shoulder. A call of your name focused your attention directly above you.

Dimitri was crying. It was the first thing that struck you as you gazed up at him, tears freely flowing from his uncovered eye. His eye lit up when you looked at him, and you felt the world beneath you shift.

“Dimitri!” an airy voice angrily broke the quiet. “Don’t move!”

You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your shoulder and sending a wave of pain through it as you went limp against Dimitri’s lap, where you found yourself realizing that your head was resting in. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before.

“Professor, not you too! You must not move!” the woman insisted.

Your mind felt clearer once the pain faded again to a dull ache and the warm feeling took over. You realized at once who that voice was, and you opened your eyes to look at Mercedes, who was by your injured shoulder sending healing magic into the wound. That explained the familiar feeling that you couldn’t place. She met your gaze, unable to form her usual smile as she turned back to focusing on your wound. That confused you, and you turned your head ever so slightly to look at your injury without agitating it again.

You understood Mercedes’ current urgency. Your shoulder looked horrible. There was a large rip in the shoulder of your cloak, likely ripped further by Mercedes in an effort to get better access to the wound. There was so much blood, it matted the ripped fabric around your wound to your skin, making the area feel sticky.

Most worrying was the blood nearest to the wound, if it was even your blood, was bleeding an oily black. Mercedes wiped a hand over the wound, clearing it to reveal a patch of gray skin surrounding the stab wound.

“What is that?” Came Ashe’s panicked voice.

“The enemy’s lance was poisoned, clearly,” Felix stated with a short glance behind him.

You looked beyond where you were to realize that the area behind where you lay was covered in the bodies of the enemies that had just been closing in on you. The great beast was killed with no mercy, some of its limbs meters away from its actual body. You couldn’t stand to look at what was done to the Imperial soldiers; some with deep slashes, charred, or with arrows sticking out of their heads. It looked horrible, but not unusual for the battles you regularly faced.

“But poison couldn’t work this fast!” Annette protested.

“I’ve heard of weapons being enchanted with poison before,” Ashe explained.

“Enchanted with poison...” Dimitri echoed, expression tense. “What does it look like to you, Mercedes?”

Mercedes looked up from your wound to meet Dimitri’s eyes, but quickly looked back down. “Her wound isn’t responding to my magic. If we don’t do something, I fear she may die.”

Mercedes looked sad and scared, but Dimitri’s growl brought your attention back to him in an instant.

“There has to be something we can do to save her!” His desperate gaze morphed into one of hatred, one you thought you had seen the last of after Rodrigue’s death. “Tell me who I must kill and I will do it.”

“Spoken like a boar,” Felix interjected. “You think she has the time for you to go on a murderous rampage?”

“Felix...” Ingrid protested lowly and sadly. ��

“Then what would you have me do, Felix?” Dimitri replied, anger clear in his voice. “She is dying, you can’t expect us to do nothing!”

“I expect you not to-” Felix started.

“Stop it!” Annette cried. “You guys need to listen to Mercie!”

Mercedes nodded toward her best friend as Felix and Dimitri reluctantly went quiet. “There is one way to save her, but we will need everyone’s help.”

“Me and Mercie came up with a plan!” Annette smiled softly at Mercedes, expression belying a reluctant confidence. “Healing magic can’t touch it, but regular magic should be able to negate its effects enough for healing to work on it again!”

“And the only magic strong enough to fend off this dark poison is Annie’s fire,” Mercedes explained. “Annie will burn off the infection, and then I will heal the wound.”

“You want to burn her?” Sylvain implored, shocked. “I know she’s tough, but...”

“We don’t have the time to think of any other solution,” Ingrid said sadly, gesturing towards you. “Grey is spreading down her arm.”

Everyone’s eyes shot over to your arm, and you lazily swept your gaze over as well to see that the grey skin tone had travelled down your arm, halfway towards your elbow. The grey patches looked rough, and unlike any affliction you had ever seen before. You wondered if the Imperial army had been exploring darker methods to kill than simple weaponry and monsters. It didn’t surprise you, but you should have seen it coming.

“What do we do...?” Ashe asked quietly, as if he wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

“You all must hold her down while Annette burns the infection away,” Mercedes answered. “It will be very painful, but if she moves, she could get hurt, so you must keep her still.”

Dimitri looked torn as he brushed some stray hairs from your face. Even through the excruciating pain, the gesture embarrassed you. Dimitri looked to be mentally weighing options as a stray tear slipped from his chin to drop on your neck. The tear was a momentary relief, a distraction, but Mercedes couldn’t keep you from feeling all the pain in your shoulder, her healing magic seemingly less and less effective by the second as the pain began to grow stronger.

“Professor,” Dimitri said, trying but failing to keep emotion out of his voice. “What do you want us to do?”

You didn’t trust your ability to talk at the moment, and so you kept eye contact with him and nodded the best you could, which ended up being two slow rises and falls of your head. You could only hope that he understood what you were trying to say. He stared at you for a few seconds before he broke eye contact.

“Dedue, Felix, take her legs,” he instructed, and the two men moved quickly towards your lower half. “Ingrid, Sylvain, take an arm each.”

The four requested students each their place at one of your limbs, and Dimitri slowly let you out of his lap, your head now resting on the ground as he made his way over to Annette and Mercedes by your injured shoulder. “I will ensure she does not move her shoulders.”

“Um...” Ashe spoke up hesitantly. “It’s not much, but I brought along a book I’ve been reading, and she might need something to bite down on, so she doesn’t bite off her tongue.”

He offered the book to Dimitri, who accepted it gratefully, and with no choice, you bit down on it when Dimitri brought it to your mouth. You would have been embarrassed if you weren’t so anxious about the somehow worse pain to come. At Dimitri’s signal, your legs and arms were restrained, ensuring that you could not move them at all. When he checked that everyone had a secure hold on you, Dimitri put one hand on your uninjured shoulder, and one on your upper chest, just above your breasts. His head was just above yours, his long hair tickling your cheeks.

“Just keep looking at me,” he whispered, voice then rising in volume. “Annette, now.”

Annette didn’t reply, but she didn’t have to. Seconds after Dimitri’s words, you felt the worst pain you have ever felt in your entire life, putting the extreme pain from before to shame. You wanted to scream, but you knew you shouldn’t, even in your haze of pain. You just bit down on the book as hard as you could to compensate. Someone held one of your hands and you squeezed their hand as hard as you could, which must have been painful, but they didn’t pull away or let go of your hand.

A whisper of your name had you looking back up to Dimitri’s face. He looked fairly upset, but the intense levels of pain you were experiencing kept you from being able to reassure him. He smiled, a clearly forced smile, but didn’t look away from you at all, which gave you no insight into how it was going with your shoulder aside from the momentous pain, which was so hot that it now felt cold. The pain was so white hot that you had to close your eyes, teeth digging into the book’s cover.

“You’ll be alright, professor,” Dimitri said quietly. “We can’t lose you.”

You knew that your students would be destroyed if you died here. You knew that they would all fall apart. So you endured the pain quietly, you had no other choice. You couldn’t leave them alone after all you had all been through. You tried to stay still, but suddenly the brutal pain increased tenfold. You screamed around the book, trying to thrash your limbs, but your students remained steadfast, restricting your movement.

“Annette!” Dimitri barked, taking his gaze from you but not his hands, which kept you pressed down.

“I’m sorry, it’s... it’s fighting against my magic! Professor, I’m so sorry!” she replied tearfully.

“We have to keep going, Annie,” Mercedes’ voice broke through the panic. “She has no chance if we don’t keep trying!”

With that, the incredible pain returned, and you once again regained the unpleasant taste of the book cover in your mouth as your teeth sank into the dents you had made previously. Everyone was so quiet while Annette and Mercedes worked that you could hear everyone’s breathing, and Dimitri sounded close to hyperventilating with how heavy his breaths sounded. You looked up at him, but he was looking over at your injury, not at you. He looked like he was about to cry again, and it being due to your strategic negligence was weighing on you at the moment.

He wouldn’t look at you and looked openly panicked. You thought he would eventually feel your eyes on him, but he didn’t. He just continued to stare at the work being done on your shoulder, which you couldn’t see yourself because Mercedes and Annette blocked your sight of it entirely. You were getting used to the horrific pain at this point, so you managed to remain still. Maybe Sothis helped with your pain tolerance, since you knew that even with the pain levels you had experienced in your life, an average person could not possibly remain as still as you were able to during this kind of a procedure.

“Mercie!” Annette cried.

At once, the burning started to fade, as the familiar feeling of Mercedes’ magic took over, engulfing your shoulder in a light so bright that you turned your head away from it and closed your eyes. There were gasps and murmured words all around you and all at once you had a range of movement in your limbs again as everyone released their tight holds on you. Dimitri, however, kept his hands where they were, and you assumed he would wait until he knew that you would be okay.

Annette and Mercedes finally backed up from your sider, allowing you a glance at your shoulder. There was nothing, not even a scratch, or the third-degree burns you were expecting from the fire magic. The grey patches of skin had receded entirely with Annette’s eradication of the strange poison magic. You were in awe of Mercedes’ magic, but you were far from the only one who was.

“Remind me not to get too far away from you on the battlefield, Mercedes!” Sylvain joked.

Sylvain’s words brought Dimitri out of his stupor and he finally released his hold on you as you reached a hand up to remove the now soggy and dented book from your mouth. You weren’t sure what to do with it since Ashe would clearly not want it back now.

You sat up as everyone else began standing up, your muscles screaming in protest. From the pain that riddled your shoulder from all that had been done to it to the soreness in your limbs from being held down by people who put all of their strength into keeping you still, you were in pain, but not deathly pain. You waved off the chorus of worried voices asking if you were okay; you were just sore, not dying!

Ignoring their protests, you slowly stood up, only for an arm to slide around your waist. Ready to scold Sylvain for choosing now of all times to flirt, you looked over to see a stubborn Dimitri gazing back at you, frowning with concern. It wasn’t like he had no caring before you were able to bring him out of his ten-year thirst for revenge, but he almost went overboard with how much he showed that everyone mattered to him now. And with that knowledge, you knew you weren’t about to win whatever argument he was about to start about your safety.

“Be careful, Professor!” he chided, refusing to let go of your waist even as were found you were able to stand properly. Not without soreness, but properly enough. “You can ride back to the monastery with me.”

You could walk just fine... probably. Your hesitation to accept must have shown on your face, because it started another bickering war.

“She’s fine without you being a mother hen,” Felix stated dryly.

“Felix!” Dimitri admonished, not removing his hold on you. “She was barely alive moments ago, and you want her to walk all the way back to the monastery?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, her shoulder is fine. Do you think she wants you to baby her when she spent months trying to get you to behave like a person and not an animal?” Felix retorted.

You would rather try to walk, to help preserve your pride, but you didn’t have the chance to speak up before the two started fighting. You weren’t sure how to break up this fight before it got worse, but luckily it was resolved for you.

“And you two think arguing about this is going to make her feel better?” Ingrid said angrily, making her way over to you. “She will ride back with me.”

Felix scoffed and turned away, while Dimitri went silent, allowing Ingrid to put your arm around her neck as she led you over to her waiting pegasus. You would have time to thank everyone for their help later. The whole experience and then the arguing had tired you out, and you just wanted to rest. So you got on the pegasus ahead of Ingrid and allowed her to take you back to the monastery, where you could get some sleep and recover.

You were pushing yourself too hard and you knew it. You were still unhappy with how you had fared in the battle with Imperial troops a week before.

And here you were, a few days later, training in the rain in the forest just outside the monastery. You had been swarmed by the students worrying about you, and your sword hand was itching to get back into practice. Nobody would agree to train with you due to your being in recovery, and Dimitri had insisted that you rest immediately, somehow even more protective of you than he had been when you were actually injured. You understood their worry, but it was getting tiring being told to rest, so you went to practice outside of the monastery to avoid everyone’s worry.

Just your luck that it was raining, but there were battles still to be fought, so you couldn’t slack on your training. You were going stir crazy, and so you found a dead tree and began practice. The dead tree was considerably more dead looking several hours later, now bearing many stabs and slashes across it. You finally took a break and sat against the tree, surrounded by bark that littered the ground around you, dislodged from your training.

You swiped a hand under your bangs with disgust. You hadn’t realized how sweaty you had gotten, but it felt nice to do some solo training the way you used to before you became a teacher. You were tired but felt assured that you were maintaining your sword skills even after sustaining such an injury. The rain was pouring even harder now, though you hadn’t noticed until you took a break. It must have been evening now, but with the harsh weather, it was hard for you to tell at all. The rain didn’t bother you, so you continued to lean against the tree, clothes totally soaked, but feeling at peace in that moment.

You knew you couldn’t stay out there forever, and so you finally sheathed your sword and stood up. Casting one last glance at the dead and beaten tree, you set back off towards the monastery. Nobody else was outside due to the awful rain, and even the merchants had temporarily closed shop. The gatekeeper, determined to do his job regardless of weather, was just under the archway and greeted you with surprise, noting your soaking wet form. You gave him a smile and reassured him that you were alright, and then continued on your way back to your room to rest for the night.

Your route back to your room took you through the entryway where you were greeted by various students and members of the church alike, who all noticed your current condition. You walked by them with a smile, brushing off their questions, until you passed by Dedue, who was just outside the dining hall. Or you tried to, as he casually stepped in your way, causing you to stop short to avoid bumping into him. You looked up at him, confused.

“Professor,” he greeted. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, not sure where this was going as you went to go into the dining hall, and he moved to block your way again. “His Highness has been looking for you.”

“...why?” you asked. You had seen Dimitri earlier, so what had happened in the past few hours that he needed you for?

“No one has been able to find you for the past eight hours,” Dedue answered. “His Highness is worried.”

Past eight hours? It had only been a few hours... at least, that was what you had thought. You had been told before that you got really focused when you trained, but you didn’t think you had taken four hours, let alone double that time!

You thanked Dedue for the information, and he only moved out of your way when you agreed that you would go meet Dimitri immediately outside your room, where Dedue told you the king had decided to wait for your return. Heaving a mental sigh, you crossed through the crowd of people getting a late dinner and made your way to your room. Just getting to the block of rooms, you noticed the broad figure with unruly blonde hair right where Dedue said he would be. Looking at his figure, you remembered your initial shock at his transformation, but it had been overpowered at the time with relief that he was still alive after five years of war. As if he could hear your footsteps over the sound of the rain, he turned his head to face you as you made your way over to him.

“Professor... where were you?” he asked, and you couldn’t think of what to reply, so he pressed onward. “You think me reckless, but you go out to train in the pouring rain when you are not yet fully recovered?”

You were surprised; how did he know? You must have looked startled because his serious expression melted away with a genuine laugh as he reached a hand out to brush along your hair, or so you thought. He brought his hand away from your hair to show you and you stared at the twig that he held in his hand, the bark of the twig rotten and dead, much like the tree it had come from.

“I can’t think of any other activities you would do in the rain with your sword at your side and end up with this twig in your hair,” he remarked. “You know, it usually is the professor that lectures their students about working too hard.”

“You haven’t been my student in a long time,” you mused.

“You may not be officially our professor, but we all rely on you for so much,” he replied thoughtfully. “You cannot expect us to not worry when our professor works herself to the point where she is liable to pass out from exhaustion in the woods without telling anyone where she has gone.”

You immediately felt sheepish. He really had you there. You wouldn’t be able to face them if you had been abducted or killed when you had told nobody where you were going or what you were doing.

“Please don’t look like that,” he implored you. “I am not mad. We just don’t want anything to happen to our favorite professor.”

It seemed like they would all keep calling you professor, even though you were all equals now. You had some really stubborn former students, you mused with a smile. Dimitri then reluctantly allowed you off the hook so you could get some rest. You both said your goodnights as you went into your room and Dimitri left for his. As you stripped yourself of your heavy, wet cloak and armor and climbed into your bed, you resolved to be a little less reckless with your training. You also wondered how long you could keep such a promise in times such as this.

It was hot. So hot. It was all that consumed your mind and body. Suddenly you realized that you had woken up. And you were only wearing a top and shorts, but you were burning up. With a groan, you assessed the situation. You felt sluggish, and so, so warm. Your throat felt sore and sitting up in your bed made you feel nauseous, so you quickly laid back down. You had to face facts; you were clearly sick.

You knew it had to be the rain. You were outside in the rain for eight hours and overexerted yourself. The combination was a bad idea, but unfortunately you did not see it like that at the time, so here you were. Sick and feeling miserable, unable to get out of bed for fear of throwing up. You didn’t even know what time it was, but you knew that being awake was doing you no favors. You didn’t feel like being awake in this state anyways, so you had only one choice. Gardening and tea parties would have to wait until you didn’t feel like you had just drank poison.

The feverish heat you felt kept you from sleeping however, which made you even more miserable. Feverish and now irritated that you couldn’t get to sleep, you decided to just remove your top and chest wrappings, your shorts taken off as well for good measure. You had never slept in just your underwear at the monastery before for fear of someone barging in your room without knocking, but at this point you didn’t care. Seteth’s lectures about propriety be damned. You just wanted to be less overwhelmingly warm, and so you laid back down in just your underwear, not bothering to put the blanket back on and curling up in the hopes that sleep would finally come.

“I’ve had that one before! Remember when we had that visiting professor at the sorcery school? I think she made these for us!” Annette exclaimed excitedly.

Mercedes nodded as she flipped the page of the new sweets book they had purchased at the market, and they both stared curiously at the next page.

“Ooh, I always wanted to make some of those!” Annette said, pointing at the colorful pastries that were illustrated on the page.

“Me too, Annie! We really should make some to share with everyone,” Mercedes replied.

Their excited chatter was interrupted as Dimitri strode by their table in the dining room for what Annette estimated was likely the fifteenth time that day. He had hardly eaten what would be considered a basic nutritional amount of dinner before he resumed his cycles around the monastery.

“Dimitri!” Annette called out to him as he was about to pass them to leave the dining hall, and he stopped in front of them. “ Mercie and I were thinking of making some sweets and having a little party with everyone!”

Dimitri seemed distracted as he responded. “Oh, Annette... that would be...”

“Are you alright, Dimitri?” Mercedes interjected. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“Oh...” Dimitri replied stiffly, coming out of his thoughts for a moment. “Has the professor been by here?”

“No,” Mercedes shook her head. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Is she okay? Do you want us to help look for her?” Annette pressed, sweets book all but forgotten in worry.

“She should be fine...” Dimitri trailed off. “Sorry for bothering you both, your idea sounds wonderful.”

And before either woman could protest, Dimitri exited the dining hall in a hurry, not even glancing behind him, cape fluttering with his movement. Mercedes and Annette could only watch in a haze of confusion and concern, their questions unanswered.

If you were out training in secret again after overworking yourself in the rain the previous day... no, Dimitri dismissed the thought. He had already looked in the forest and located the tree that you had cut to ribbons the day before. You could have gone farther into the forest, but he thought that unlikely as well. You had seemed regretful when the two of you had spoken at your door the night before, and he thought it unlikely that you would immediately break a promise to him, especially after he had told you how much you and your health mattered to all of them.

It occurred to him just then that he had neglected to check your room. It should have been the first place he checked, but it had slipped his mind. He would have to go check now. You may have decided to relax in your room for the day, and then he would have been worrying for nothing. Although he knew that you had a healthy appetite, but nobody had seen you in the dining hall at all, which was very strange.

There was nobody at the dorms, or if they were, they must have been inside their rooms. Dimitri was able to arrive at your door with no hassle, but he couldn’t hear any sounds from inside. He knocked politely, but to no response at all.

“Professor?” he called out as he knocked again, louder this time.

There was still no reply, which vexed him. If you didn’t want to see anyone, you would have replied to inform him of that. Which left only one thought running wild in his mind; you must have gone out to train and been injured. Or been injured yesterday and were now in too bad or a state to even talk. Once the thought entered his mind, he was consumed with worry. Reaching out and finding the door locked, he did not spare any thought before he slammed his shoulder into the door, bursting open the lock. Without a moment to spare, he thrust open the door and rushed into your room.

“Professor-” Dimitri exclaimed, but his eye widened in shock as he took in the scene in front of him.

The room looked fairly normal , a similar state of cleanliness to what it had been the last time he had visited you here for tea. Your blanket was half draped on the end of the bed and half on the floor, but none of your sparse belongings were out of place.

Dimitri found you immediately, and his cheeks immediately felt hot. You did not appear to be injured, and he was easily able to discern this because of your lack of clothes. You were curled up on your bed... in only your smallclothes. Dimitri’s mind went blank as his focus was drawn to your bare breasts. He didn’t know what to do, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He knew what breasts looked like, but he couldn’t remember seeing any bare but yours at this exact moment. He was transfixed, even though every instinct of his was telling him he had to look away, to protect your modesty.

And then you moaned and brought him out of his stupor. Now that he thought about it, you did not look very well. Still unsure if he was making the right decision, he closed the door behind him before making his way over to you. He removed a glove and placed his hand on your forehead, having his suspicions confirmed. You were burning up, clearly sick from training in the rain for so long the day before. He presumed that you had not left your room the entire day, which did not seem good, considering you must have spent the entire day unconscious and fevered.

He wanted to cover you up, for the sake of his waning composure, but you didn’t have the time for that and he didn’t want to overheat you further. He would have to try to disregard his embarrassment for the moment, because you needed his help, and he didn’t know how to explain to one of the women around the monastery that he had busted down your door and found you nearly naked. And you would never forgive him if he had others see you compromised like this. It was already bad enough that he had seen you like this.

He quietly left your room, glancing around to confirm that nobody was around to see him coming and going from your room so late. It was a cold night, but it did nothing to calm him down at all. Your body was beautiful, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind as he fetched a small bucket of water and a cloth before returning to your room. He mentally braced himself before opening the door to find you in pretty much the same position you had been in, laying on your back.

Prioritizing his worry for you over his shyness, he closed the door gently behind him and walked over to your bedside. He carefully wet the cloth, wringing some of the excess water out before moving your bangs to the side and placing the cloth on your forehead. You exhaled loudly but evenly in your sleep, which he took to be a positive sign.

He ended up not getting a lot of sleep that night. He stayed in your room for quite a while into the early hours of the morning, dunking the cloth in the cold water again whenever it began to be overcome by your body temperature. He never felt his lack of sleep at all, practice, he assumed, from all of his sleepless nights spent longing for revenge. He had never slept as well as he had since he had allowed himself to be free of the burdens of his dead loved ones. Not free from his obligations to them, but now he would channel his resolve into freeing Fódlan from Edelgard’s tyranny as opposed to the mindless bloodshed that he had surrounded himself with for the majority of the past five years.

You were such a comfort to him, one he thought he had lost a long time ago. You had supported him and been by his side, and he was too consumed to appreciate it until after he lost Rodrigue. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with you and all of his former classmates and friends surrounding him. They did not want him to be consumed and lost to revenge, and now he understood that the dead did not want that either. But he was not free from the choices he knew he would have to make soon, it was something that weighed on his mind. He did not want to kill his stepsister, but as he went to wet the cloth again, he was glad you would be with him when he made that decision. He needed your support, and he resolved to support you as well as he could, especially given your recent hobby of being reckless with your own health and safety.

Feeling your forehead, he was relieved to discover that your fever had finally broken. You may not have been fully healthy again, but if you were at least a normal temperature now, then he knew that he had done his job. You were still nearly naked though, and he would likely be an unwelcome sight when you woke up, and so he took the cloth and bucket and stood up. Better that you did not know he had been here; it would spare at least you of the embarrassment. But as he quickly fixed the lock back into place before opening the door and closing it behind him, he knew it would be a difficult feat to erase the sight of your uncovered body from his mind any time soon. You were so pretty, and it was all he could think about the entire way back to his room.

You woke up slowly, eyes still closed but aware that you were now awake. Your middle of the night wakeup felt almost like a dream compared to how you felt now. You felt somewhat bad still, your throat not fully better and limbs still feeling a bit heavy, but the incredible fever you had felt earlier had all but faded. You must have really been doing poorly, because a glance outside the window told you that it was morning.

You supposed that you might as well get up; there was no way to assuage worry except going to interact with everyone. You would feel better eventually. You knew that the students would worry about you. Getting up and checking with your calendar, you discovered that you had spent an entire day and night in bed.

You slowly put your clothing back on, happy to discover that it had dried all the way, pretty much a given as it had lain in a heap for over a full day on your floor. You probably looked awful after your high fever, so you headed out of your room and towards the bathhouse to freshen yourself up. Just as you went to enter, Ingrid was leaving, her hair obviously wet, and you exchanged smiles as you passed by each other.

The bathhouse was almost completely empty, save a few women, but none of your students. It made sense that there weren’t a lot of people up this early in the morning. There had just been a big battle, and there were still more to come. Everyone worked so hard, so you felt that they more than deserved to sleep in if they wanted to. But you were more than happy to finally be free from your bed, and so you stripped down and got into the water in just your towel.

You took your time to wash your hair and body, happy to not feel gross for the first time in a while. Only after scrubbing yourself to your utmost satisfaction did you relent and get redressed, leaving the bathhouse behind and feeling fully refreshed. Stifling a yawn, you decided to head over to the dining hall as your stomach yearned for food after so long without.

“Good morning, Professor,” Mercedes greeted you as you both entered the dining hall together. “Did you also hear that they would be including sugar scones in today’s breakfast menu?”

You hadn’t heard anything about menus at all, but any food sounded good to you at this point. You couldn’t remember if you had eaten sugar scones before, but they sounded like something you would like. You and Mercedes walked up to the front of the hall together, both accepting a plate of assorted muffins and colorful scones that were sparkling with sugar.

“Oh, I just love these!” Mercedes spoke cheerily as the two of you found a free section of table and sat down across from each other. “Have you had sugar scones before, Professor?”

You shook your head no and she giggled. “Well, I would recommend spreading some Albenian berry jam on them,” she informed you happily, gesturing to the small dish of red jelly that was situated in the middle of your plate. “These are one of Annie’s favorites, so I thought she would be here by now…”

As if on cue, Annette burst through the doorway to the dining hall, almost tripping as she skidded to a stop just in time to turn and rush towards the dining hall staff for her tray of breakfast sweets. She waved happily at you and Mercedes as she passed you to get to the front. The two of you watched, amused, as Annette was scolded by the head chef for running in the dining hall. She sheepishly apologized and received her tray of sweets, which brought a smile back onto her face as she turned and made her way over to you, taking a seat next to Mercedes.

“Sorry I’m late! I thought scone day was tomorrow!” Annette explained as she took in the sight of her breakfast tray.

“You’re so forgetful, Annie,” Mercedes teased with a smile.

“Well at least I got here in time!” Annette huffed, wasting no time in smearing jam all over one of her scones and taking a big bite out of it.

“That is true,” Mercedes agreed, before turning her head to look at you. “Do you like them, Professor?”

You had tried a bite while they were talking, spreading the jam like Mercedes had suggested, and found that you did like them. You must have missed it when these had been served in the dining hall before. You had eaten an entire scone by the time Mercedes had asked the question, and you were interrupted before you could answer her.

“Mind if I join you ladies?” Sylvain asked from behind you.

“Of course, Sylvain,” Mercedes replied, and he slid in right next to you with his own plate of food that he placed down in front of himself.

“I feel like I missed seeing your pretty face around here the past few days,” Sylvain said, popping an entire scone in his mouth as he looked over at you.

“You never change, do you?” Ingrid said wearingly as she sat down on your other side. “You think that she hasn’t had enough of your behavior already?”

“Ingrid…” Sylvain groaned. “She got a hole cut out of her not that long ago, I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“And you thought your flirting would heal her wounds?” Felix raised an eyebrow as he sat down next to Mercedes. “You delusions never end.”

“Hey, why is everyone turning on me?” Sylvain complained, and you laughed. “Not you too, Professor! You wound me!”

Now Annette and Mercedes laughed, while Felix rolled his eyes and Ingrid smiled and shook her head. You all ate your breakfast while chatting, slowly adding Ashe and Dedue to your midst. Even when Dedue didn’t appear to be coming to sit with your group, Annette called his name and beckoned him over to join your table, while Ashe was convinced as soon as he saw your group all together. It was very lively, and almost made you forget that there was a war looming over you all. But just because you would soon have to kill or be killed yet again did not mean that you couldn’t enjoy the company of your lively house members.

“Hey, shouldn’t Dimitri be up by now?” Annette wondered out loud.

“That’s true,” Ingrid agreed. “He’s never been one to sleep in.”

“I can go and check his room,” Dedue volunteered. “If he is not there, then he may-”

“No need!” Annette replied. “I see him now! Dimitri, over here!”

The tall blonde king had just walked into the dining hall, and looked your way at Annette’s call, noticing your entire group all sitting together and walking over to approach you all. Before anyone could stop him or insist that he didn’t have to, Dedue was up from his seat to grab Dimitri a plate of breakfast from the cooks at the front. Some other people stopped Dimitri to talk quickly or greet him, and so he arrived at your table just as Dedue had brought back a plate for him, which he accepted gratefully, knowing better than to try to dissuade his friend from performing errands without being asked by this point. He sat down next to Dedue, and Annette got up to bring over some tea to share with everyone. It was the most cheerful that you all had been during this time of war, and you could not recall a time when you had been happier.

You talked with Ingrid about how her pegasus was doing, and she happily invited you to come flying with her if you would like, to which Mercedes and Annette chimed in that they would love to fly with her as well. Meanwhile, Sylvain on your other side informed you that his horse was available for riding lessons as well, to which Ashe mentioned that he wanted to improve his riding skills, and Sylvain looked marginally defeated. You were having so much fun talking with everyone that you didn’t notice anything amiss with Dimitri at all.

“Are you ill, Your Highness?” Dedue said, with no intentions of being discreet with his volume management. “You have not touched your food.”

Everyone paused their conversations to stare at the king, who had been staring at his plate until Dedue had spoken up to him. He looked up at the sudden silence, surprised to see everyone’s eyes on him. He gave Dedue a small smile, assuring him that he was alright, which Dedue reluctantly accepted, but it was not good enough for Ingrid.

“You don’t look very well, Dimitri,” she insisted, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at him. “Have you been sleeping alright?”

He looked over, meeting your eyes for a very brief moment before immediately looking at Ingrid, ignoring your confused stare. “I am fine,” he said reassuringly, shaking his head with a laugh when Ingrid gave him a hard look. “Really, Ingrid. I am alright.”

“If you don’t sleep, you’re just making it easier for the enemy to cut you down,” Felix said sharply.

“I bought some tea at the market that is supposed to help with sleeping problems if you would like to try some,” Mercedes offered.

“I promise you all that I am alright,” Dimitri insisted with a smile.

Sensing that a change of mood was in order, you offered the last remaining thing on your plate, a Dagda fruit muffin, to Sylvain. You found that you did not like Dadga fruit tea, and so you figured that it would be better to give it to someone who would appreciate it more. And it didn’t hurt as a conversation swap either.

“You don’t want it, Professor?” he asked, blinking at you, surprised.

You shook your head, holding the plate a little closer to him, and he shrugged, grinning at you. “Who am I to refuse you? Thanks for the muffin.”

Sylvain ate the muffin in a few bites as Dimitri finally began to pick at his own tray. You tried again to catch his eye, but he was determined to stare down at his plate. Conversation began to pick up again as Annette started to tell a story from back when they were all students. The conversation took a nostalgic turn as everyone then began sharing stories from their school lives five years prior.

“Not to be rude, but I thought you hated us at first!” Annette told you, blushing slightly with embarrassment.

“I must confess that I felt the same at the start,” Ashe agreed, quickly adding, “but we couldn’t be where we are now without you.”

“I do remember calling you beautiful and you just stared at me... I thought you didn’t hear me for a second,” Sylvain recalled.

“How is that any different from now?” Felix sneered.

“That is true,” Mercedes agreed. “Just the other day I saw a village girl just turn around and leave without saying anything.”

“Mercedes!” Sylvain’s jaw went slack. “You saw that?”

“I see your success rate hasn’t changed,” Felix scoffed.

Sylvain really had no comeback for that, and you were far from the only one at the table to laugh at his plight. Giggling, you locked eyes with Annette, who you noticed had also finished her plate. Nodding at each other, you both got up from the table to take your empty plates back.

“I feel like I’ve got my muffin fix for a while!” she joked as you handed your empty plates to the dining hall staff.

“What are your plans for the day?” you asked her, and she smiled.

“Don’t tell Mercie, but she was talking about how she missed these sweet ginger cakes we had when we were younger, and I was going to make some to surprise her with!” she whispered excitedly.

You were glad that Annette was such an endless supply of joy and kindness. You knew how much everyone appreciated any distractions from the mounting scale of war you were faced with, and so you also would have to do your best to keep a happy demeanor about yourself. Annette’s eyes drifted from yours as you both got back to the table as she stared ahead.

“Hey, where did Dimitri go?” she asked.

You looked over to where Annette had her eyes set and noticed that your table was missing its blonde king. You both must have looked incredibly confused, because Dedue decided to put you out of your misery.

“His Highness… had something to attend to.” Even Dedue sounded puzzled.

“Yeah, he just said that he had forgotten to do something and left…” Ingrid added, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Maybe he just had a bad reaction to the muffins?” Sylvain suggested, but one look at Dimitri’s plate told you that he hadn’t eaten a single thing from his plate.

He was acting weird, but he didn’t seem to be sliding back into his darkness again. Even so, you would have to check on him later, just to make sure. You had abandoned him for five years, even if it wasn’t by choice, and you would never leave his side again until the day came when he no longer needed you. You wouldn’t lose him again, not when everyone, when Faerghus, needed him.

Dimitri walked briskly to the cathedral, taking up his usual spot in front of the rubble that had once been a proud altar. He knew that he was clearly acting off, and his friends would eventually come and make sure he was okay. And he knew that he was not doing well, but it was not the type of problem that he imagined that they thought that he was dealing with. He had never dealt with anything like this before, and he didn’t know what to do. And so, he stared at the rubble, but too lost in thoughts to take in the scenery.

He couldn’t sleep at all the night before, and he didn’t know how he would get any sleep tonight. Seeing your mostly nude body had awoken within him feelings that he had kept himself from feeling for so long. He had been so focused on revenge for the entirety of his developing years that he had never allowed himself to think of romance as more than a faraway concept. He had sheltered himself for so long, and now the reality of his situation was hitting him with the full force that it would have had he allowed himself when he was a teenager. Instead, he was an adult man who was only now realizing the depths that his feelings could reach. He loved you, and it scared him.

He knew that he couldn’t avoid you forever. You had a war to win, and he couldn’t avoid his closest ally, even if he happened to just discover his feelings for you. He wanted desperately to be near you, but even with your widening range of emotions, he had seen no indication that you had any romantic feelings towards him. And besides, you would never talk to him again if you found out that he had stayed in your room while you were not fully dressed, even if it was to help you recover from your fever. He would live with his shame and hide his feelings, and would channel his energy into the war. Although that still didn’t resolve how he was going to sleep tonight, since he knew that every time he closed his eyes that night he would see your perfect breasts or your kind smile.

He had spent the last few hours of the night after he had returned to his room staring out of his window into the night sky. He had wrestled with his longing to go back there and tell you how he felt, kiss you… but you were sick. You needed rest. And you certainly did not need to have to deal with this new revelation of his. He relied on you for so much that he would crumble without your support, and so he just had to accept that your support would never be that of a wife’s to him.

He felt like a preteen boy. He couldn’t even stand to meet eyes with you in the dining hall earlier. He was so focused on staring at his plate that he could barely hear what anyone else had said. He had met your eyes for only half a second and even that was too much for him in his current state. You had looked worried for him, worries that he didn’t feel that he could assuage. He would have to keep his distance from you until he could resolve this within himself.

He must have been lost in thought for a while because eventually, he realized that Dedue was by his side. He gave Dedue a nod and then turned back to face the rubble, but a call of his title had him looking back to his stoic friend.

“Is everything alright, Your Highness?” Dedue asked simply.

“I…” Dimitri was not sure what to say.

“When I pledged myself to you, I intended to ensure that no harm came to you,” Dedue explained. “If anyone has been upsetting you, or you are suffering a cursed ailment, you need only to tell me and I will scourge whoever dared to curse you.”

Dimitri could never have a normal conversation with him during this war, could he? There were so many threats to his life, he was willing to admit, but Dedue never ceased to worry, even when everything was stable for the moment. He knew that Dedue cared about him, but he always thought the worst of things when it concerned his king.

“I have no injuries or curses, my friend,” he told Dedue who looked entirely unconvinced.

“If it is something that you feel that you cannot tell the others…” Dedue’s offer was implied. He was concerned, that much Dimitri could tell easily.

“For now, it is something that I must handle on my own,” Dimitri said, not meeting his friend’s eyes.

It took some convincing, but Dedue finally relented in his insistence that he walk the king back to his room, despite the fact that they were on entirely different floors. He also rebuffed Dedue’s offer to stand guard outside his room the entire night to defend him from attackers. Dedue had finally, reluctantly relented and allowed Dimitri to finally return to his room alone. He was careful to check that he hadn’t been followed; Dedue had done it before, after all. But he saw no signs of anyone following him and arrived on the second floor of the dormitories, not meeting anyone on the way down the hall and to his room.

It was early in the night, he discovered as he returned to his room. It was earlier than he usually went to sleep, but being awake for closing in on thirty or so hours was wearing on him. With getting some rest potentially in sight, he sat on his bed and began the painstaking process of removing his armor. He let out a tired sigh as his leg armor came off, and he carefully placed it aside before repeating the process on his upper armor, removing his cape and furs as well when he had taken his armor off. He was left in just his long black undershirt and black pants, which was all he wore when he slept these days. Although he did recall that he had previously pushed himself to the point of collapse when in his full armor before, and waking up from that had never felt pleasant on his body. But given his state of mind at the time, he simply got up and continued to do the work he felt needed to be done; being sore never kept him from the slaughter. But as he was now, he appreciated that he could take his armor off at the end of the day and rest. He never knew how nice it would feel to let down his last layer of defense and truly be himself around his friends with nothing to hide. Well, he thought, nothing to hide but his attraction to you that refused to wane.

He would try to sleep; at least now he was in his room, where he was not likely to run into you. His onset affection for you was so strong that he didn’t think it would go away, and he did not know if that was a good thing or not. He took off his shoes, setting them down before laying down on his bed and closing his eyes in the hope that sleep would find him.

You had spent your day talking to the other occupants of the monastery, doing your best to confirm that everyone was doing alright. You knew that this war weighed on everyone’s souls, and if you could do anything to help, you would. And so, you did some light training with Felix, went to the marketplace with Ashe, and ended up helping Annette do some baking for Mercedes, which did not result in any kitchen disasters for once, which was a relief. You had seen Dimitri in the cathedral earlier, in that same place he had always gone before he had broken free of his darkness. You decided to give him some space, but when you passed by the cathedral again later in the evening, he was no longer in his usual spot in front of the rubble.

Whatever was wrong with him, you wanted to give him time. You really did. But if he was sinking back into his inner darkness, then you couldn’t stand by and let it happen again. You walked around the monastery grounds but were unable to find him. As a last ditch effort, you decided to head to the second floor of the dormitories to check and see if he was in his room. You passed various people as they headed to their own rooms to retire for the night, smiling as Flayn excitedly wished you a good night as you passed by her. Finally, you arrived at what you recalled to be Dimitri’s bedroom door.

You raised a hand and lightly knocked on the door. No answer. Maybe he had gone for a late night walk and you had just missed him on your walk around the monastery. You knocked one more time, slightly louder, but still got no response. You couldn’t hear any sounds from at all from the other side of the door. Having no choice, you reluctantly decided to leave and head back to your own room. You could talk with Dimitri the next time you saw him, you reassured yourself. And so, you began to retreat the way that you had come, off to get some sleep and hopefully wake up fully free from your sickness.

“Professor…”

It was so quiet that you almost didn’t detect it, but you supposed your sensitivity on the battlefield allowed you to pick up the muted whisper of your old title. You turned your head back, not sure what to expect, but found Dimitri in only pants and a long-sleeved shirt, both in black, staring at you from just outside his room. He met your gaze with a look of surprise on his face, almost as if he had not expected you to hear him or turn back to look. You made your way back over to him, and he opened his door wider and gestured for you to accompany him inside.

He walked all the way to his window before turning only his head back to face you. His expression was unreadable, but yours certainly wasn’t, and he immediately saw the worry on your face.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly. You knew that you couldn’t make him talk if he didn’t want to but you needed him to know that you were here for him.

“You never let up, do you?” he asked, and you vaguely recalled him saying something like that to you in the past. Before you could reply, he continued. “I could not be who I am today without your help.”

Why was he saying that now, and then why did he look so troubled? You didn’t understand where he was going with this, and were about to tell him so.

“I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, finally turning around fully and stepping slightly closer to you. “But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

“That is not possible,” you countered, staring him down sternly.

Dimitri only grew a small sad smile at your words. He looked to be waging a mental war on himself, but you bridged the gap that was still between you and forced him to look at you in the eyes. You looked at him with all the seriousness you could manage in an attempt to convey to him that you would listen to anything that he had to say. He broke eye contact with you almost immediately, staring at the floor as he spoke quietly.

“You had a fever,” he explained. “Nobody had seen you the day after you were out in the rain. I went to check on you, and you were not answering your door and I…”

Your eyes went wide in surprise. That night, you were…

“I am so sorry, Professor!” he spoke, sounding upset as he hung his head in shame. “I saw you in a state that only your husband should see you in and I-”

His rambling cut off and you looked at him, trying desperately to have him meet your eyes, but he continued to look at the floor, so you took a second to reevaluate these new revelations. Dimitri had not fully explained, but from what you had pieced together, he had been worried about you and came into your room, which must have been after you had stripped down to only your underwear, based on Dimitri’s odd husband comment. You felt a rush of embarrassment that he had seen you like that, but you found that you were more bothered that he had seen you looking so weak rather than the fact that he had seen you nearly naked. But you also found that you didn’t really mind that it was him that had seen you that way.

“I… I did not leave you be. I could not. I stayed with you and kept a cold cloth on your forehead until your fever broke. I should have left, but I could not just leave you like that,” Dimitri spoke up again.

He was so earnest that it was cute. Apologizing for seeing you nearly nude was one thing, but you stifled a laugh as he was for some reason apologizing for staying with you and taking care of you while you were sick. He was fiercely intelligent, brave in the face of the hardships of war, but looking at him now, he looked like an awkward teenager trapped in the body of a grown man. You could no longer help yourself, and you let out a quiet giggle.

“Professor?” Dimitri uttered as he looked at you in shock and you laughed at his expression.

“You’re so cute,” you told him, and watched as your words sent a pink flush to his cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

You knew that you should do something to put him out of his misery, but you weren’t sure what. You reached a hand up to cup one of his cheeks, and he looked at you unsteadily, closing his eye as he leaned into your touch. You weren’t sure why you had decided to reach out for him physically, but staring at his handsome face, so close to your own, you felt the most comfortable and safe you had ever felt. You closed your eyes too to bask in the moment, but then he said your name, not your title, but your actual name. You opened your eyes again and the two of you stared at each other and he raised his own hand to cover yours that was still on his cheek. He had an urgency in his eyes that you could not place.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, not breaking eye contact, unwavering under your surprised look.

You really shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were, given how physically close the two of you were now, and how emotionally close you had been to each other for so long, but you hadn’t had the time to think that this was even a possibility. Overpowering all of your mind was the sense that this was all that you wanted in this moment. He was different than he had been when you had reunited with him, but he had broken free of his darkness, and had become the kind, strong leader that his people needed. That you all needed. He was your dearest friend, but right now you wanted him to kiss you more than anything, and so you nodded.

He didn’t waste any more than a few seconds before bending down and connecting your lips as your eyes slid closed as the same time. You adjusted your chin so you would be better locked together as your other hand weakly grasped at the material of his shirt, just above his chest. The kiss felt so effortless, as you both adjusted to the other’s rhythm and Dimitri’s other hand came up to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close together.

The kiss stayed simple, but it was making you feel lightheaded with the intensity that you were both putting into it. You pulled away, not confident in your ability to breathe at the moment and he followed, gently steering you back until the back of your knees hit his bed and you allowed him to push you back down onto it.

You found yourself laying on your back as Dimitri hovered over you, his legs on either side of you. He was upright with his knees pressed against your upper thighs, looking at you with want but unsure of how to proceed. While he sat there in a daze, you shrugged your coat off and gently removed your gauntlets, letting it all fall down in a heap by the bedside, and as you did, you noticed a pile of Dimitri’s own clothing and armor only a few feet away.

When you looked back up, you noticed that Dimitri had been following you with his gaze, but he still looked unsure. You had no idea what was going on in his head or what had happened to his confidence, but you decided that you would have to make it abundantly clear that you would like this to continue. And so, you lifted your torso up from the bed and wriggled out of your shirt, throwing everything that covered your upper body onto the floor and watching Dimitri’s eye widen and cheeks turned red as he once again took in the sight of your bare breasts. You were just happy that you were conscious this time so you could enjoy his very honest reaction.

He was still staring, this time he had switched back to look you in the eyes and you couldn’t help but tease him. “Dimitri, your shirt…”

He finally relaxed a bit and smiled so sweetly down at you. “I suppose I should make it even.”

You had never seen him shirtless before, but the scars on his body told you what he could never bring himself to about what had happened to him over the past ten years. He gave you no explanation, and did not give you the time to fully examine all of his scars as he lowered his head down and kissed you again, feeding in your boldness as he supported himself with one hand, bringing his other hand up to feel one breast. The shock of his sudden movements had you moaning in surprise, and the kiss transitioned further as you both allowed your tongues to meet as well.

You cradled his head in your hands, bringing one hand through his hair, so much longer than it had been five years earlier. Finding yourself wanting to be even closer to him, you brought one leg out from under him and wrapped it around his hip. The position allowed you to grind up against him, and he met your hips excitedly as you kissed and you felt a shiver go down your spine as you realized how much he wanted this, your hips so close together that you could not miss how hard he had become in such little time. The friction was exactly where you wanted it, but it began to not feel like anywhere close to enough.

He pulled back from you by a few centimeters, nose still touching yours, and his hand that was not supporting his weight drifted from your breast to brush a hand through your hair. “I love you,” he said sincerely, chuckling as you looked up at him in shock. “You did not think I loved you?”

He seemed amused by your lack of response, and in truth you did not know, you had been so happy to be like this with him that you hadn’t even considered the feelings that were obviously involved. But you could not deny how happy those words made you, and he leaned down to kiss you again as a smile lit up your face. He gave you a few short kisses before he disengaged himself from you, sitting at the side of the bed, and you hastened to join him. He looked over as you hesitantly placed your head on his shoulder, and he readily accepted the contact.

“I did not think that I would ever feel like this… that I deserved to feel this way with you. I escaped the darkness that I had been trapped in, but I know there are those who will never forgive me for the sins I have committed. But you stuck by my side when I treated you so poorly. I don’t deserve you… any of you,” he said, staring at the wall but wrapping an arm around your naked back.

“You are indispensable to me,” he said as he leaned over to kiss your hair. “I knew that I would not be here without you, but I did not realize my feelings until that night.”

You knew which night he meant, but you had taken even longer than him to discover your own feelings, but you knew now. You loved him, and there was no going back now, even if you wanted to. Which, sitting side by side in this moment, you knew that you only wanted to experience even more with this man who was so dear to you.

“I wanted to wait until after the war, until we had peace. But after that night, I could not look back at you without seeing your bare form. It is shameful, but I cannot hold back any longer, especially now that I know it is mutual,” he explained, adjusting the both of you so that you were facing each other. “I want to be with you.”

He was looking at you expectantly, but kindly. You realized that he needed you to also affirm that this was real, that you loved him as well. He believed in you, but you knew that you should put the poor boy out of his misery. You leaned in to kiss him and he reciprocated happily, pulling back after a few seconds, eyes fluttering open to look at Dimitri, who looked so content in that moment.

“I love you,” you told him, truly meaning it. “I want to be with you.”

Dimitri looked so happy, but with a glance downwards, you saw that he was no less hard. It looked rather painful, and couldn’t be comfortable for him. You were not as subtle as you thought you had been, and he caught your glance downwards on his form.

“I… it is okay, I would never pressure you. You do not have to worry about me,” he said quickly, face flushing pink.

He was about to get up and put some distance between you, but you would not let that happen. You stood up with him and spoke his name softly as you slipped your hands into the sides of your shorts, pulling them down along with your tights and slipping out of them and your boots. It was not a particularly graceful or sexy stripping of your last articles of clothing, but it got the job done. You crossed the room to where he was standing and he allowed you to begin the process of removing the clothes covering his lower half.

“If this is what you really want,” his growled words sent your cheeks aflame. “I will not hold back, my love.”

He helped you by kicking his pants and underwear off, and as soon as you were both fully naked, he picked you up, his hands grasping your thighs to support you. You hastily wrapped your legs and arms around him so you wouldn’t fall, and he grinned at you as he placed you down on the bed, following you down so he could kiss you again. Dimitri kissed you for only a moment longer as you desperately tried to keep up with his pace. You were so ready for what was to come, and you pulled back from the kiss and gazed up at him with longing.

Dimitri swallowed as he looked down at you, and you spread your legs as he reached down to his achingly hard cock. You were embarrassed to discover that you were easily wet enough from just kisses and simple groping that Dimitri was able to rub himself against you before he began to slide himself inside with ease. You let out a breathy moan as you tried not to squirm at the foreign feeling. Dimitri’s eyes closed as he dropped down to rest his head on your shoulder, his deep groan right by your ear as he pushed further inside you. Finally, your hips fully met as he was seated fully within you, and you knew that you had never felt anything like this before. You knew what sex was, your father had been too awkward to give you the talk himself and had a female village chief explain to it to you after you had saved their village, so you knew the basics. But no explanation could match up with how good it felt to be so intimate with the man you loved.

You felt his breath tickle your ear as he pulled himself back up, his eyes half lidded. “You feel so good… forgive me, but it is hard for me to focus on anything else.”

You felt the same way, but you didn’t have the patience for him to wait and adjust to this feeling, so you decided to force the issue by squeezing your inner muscles and watching as he shuddered, eye fluttering closed for a moment with a groan. He opened his eye to glare halfheartedly at you, obviously too pleased at the moment for you to believe that he was actually angry with you.

“You are so impatient,” he teased, but complied with your wishes as he pulled ever so slightly out of you before canting his hips back into yours.

He didn’t waste a second in continuing the movement, and his gentle rocking was driving you crazy. You were completely naked, and it had been a cold month, but you were so, so warm. There was a pleasant burn that was slowly ebbing away to just feel good in a way that you had never felt before. Evidently this was new to Dimitri as well, because he was in no better of a state than you were, panting against your skin as he leaned down to kiss at your neck. You were content to lay like that, your arms around his neck and feeling his hair tickle your face, but a well-timed thrust had you unexpectedly crying out with the sudden spike of pleasure.

Dimitri couldn’t suppress his own groan as he was able to reach deeper within you. And when you rolled your hips up to meet him, he almost stopped his momentum to bask in how good it felt. He once again palmed your breasts and stifled your moan as he kissed you again. He closed his eye as he kissed you because he feared that if he was to keep it open and take in the way you looked right now, this would end far sooner than he wanted. You were so beautiful like this, and his heart stuttered with every sound that left your mouth.

He wanted this to last, but he could no longer be satisfied with the current pace. He began to pull out more swiftly and push back in with a new speed and intensity. He felt pride surge up in him as you squirmed and broke the kiss to let out another cute cry. Your next cry was of his name, which set his pace on fire as you both rapidly tried to meet your ends as you both connected in a desperate clashing of tongues, both groping at any inch of the other’s skin that you could reach.

“I fear this will not last much longer, beloved,” Dimitri panted. “But we have so much more time ahead of us.”

You weren’t fully sure what he meant by that, but at this point you were so close to reaching your peak that you could do no more than moan and grasp weakly onto his neck and back, tangling one hand in his hair. You closed your eyes tightly as Dimitri held you as close to him as he could, his chest brushing against yours in tandem with his thrusting. It only took a bit more of his harsh, fast pace before you lost yourself in pleasure. Dimitri continued to move, prolonging your orgasm as you moaned and squeezed around him. He could only hold out for so long and he was finally pushed over the edge with a strained groan of your name. The two of you stayed joined for a moment before Dimitri gently moved off of you, giving you a shy smile. You went to get up with him, but he stopped you with a hand on your arm and you obeyed, laying back down, but looked at him quizzically.

“You may not want to get up. We have made quite a mess,” Dimitri said reluctantly.

He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the feeling to distract you, you realized just how gross you were feeling… down there. You closed your legs tightly in embarrassment, and in the hopes that you wouldn’t ruin Dimitri’s sheets. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

Dimitri laughed at your sudden shyness. “I will go fetch something to clean you up with,” he explained, beginning to dress himself to his first layer of clothing, foregoing his armor.

He bent down to kiss one of your flushed cheeks, and then he was gone out the door. Once the door had been closed and you were alone, you felt all of your remaining composure slip away. You and Dimitri had… you had no idea how he was so much more composed than you were, easily leaving the room to bring back something to clean you up. You felt too embarrassed to leave this room for a month, let alone right after you had been so intimate for the first time. You did not even know what to say to Dimitri when he got back, but you would dare to hope he had meant what he said, implying that he wanted to do this again. That he loved you. But for now, all you could do was wait for him to return.

Dimitri kept a relatively quick pace to fetch a cloth, although for a much different reason than the previous time. He still had a hard time believing that had just happened, that you and he were… he loved you, and he would not deny it even if being open about it was so new for him. Smiling to himself, he wistfully hoped that you would agree to spend the night in his room. He would not force you, but he could not deny that the idea of waking up and seeing your beautiful face first thing in the morning set his heart aflutter.

Dimitri had gotten to the middle of the hallway before he noticed someone waving at him just past his room, standing at the end of the hallway. Sylvain grinned at him as Dimitri walked past his own room to meet his friend just outside the redhead’s room.

“Late night walk, Your Highness?” Sylvain quipped, eyes briefly darting down to the towel in Dimitri’s grasp.

Dimitri was silent for a moment too long, wondering what to respond, and Sylvain laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Just one thing though, you might want to noise-proof your room.”

“Sylvain!” Dimitri admonished, shocked.

“Hey!” Sylvain waved his hands in a defensive manner. “It wasn’t me! But, uh, Felix was just here complaining that you and the Professor were interrupting his sleep…”

Dimitri was not sure what to say to that, and immediately felt bad because he was sure that you would be embarrassed if you knew that you two had been heard. Dimitri turned a hard gaze to Sylvain; his childhood friend had not been known to be the most trustworthy with gossip, but Sylvain immediately knew what Dimitri was thinking, and what he was likely about to say.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone, relax!” Sylvain stated quickly. “Just be careful, ladies don’t really like having an audience.”

Dimitri scoffed, but smiled at his friend. “I will keep that in mind, Sylvain.”

Relieved that Dimitri was not mad at him, he clasped one of his friend’s shoulders. “I won’t keep you from her, but I just wanted to say that I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy, Dimitri. Just don’t let her get away!” he joked.

Both men having said their piece, turned to go to their respective rooms. Dimitri could only hope that you hadn’t heard any of their conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you away or make you uncomfortable. But as he opened the door, he found you still on his bed, shutting the door behind him without looking back because he could not stand to look away from the smile you gave him upon seeing him return.

It hadn’t been long, but you felt happiness surge up in you at the sight of him. He briskly made his way over to you and handed you the towel he had brought, to your great relief. It would be too embarrassing to have him clean you, and so you accepted the towel gratefully, cleaning yourself as he turned his back to give you some privacy. You made quick work of cleaning yourself, feeling less of a mess immediately, other than your hair still being slightly matted to your forehead with sweat. You wanted to savor this moment, but you also wanted to know if he had really meant what he had said earlier.

Dimitri, not noticing the shift in your mood, leaned down onto the bed just as you sat up so he could give you a light kiss. He looked so happy when he pulled away from you, his smile unwavering. It was only then that he noticed how strained your small smile was. “My love…?”

“…you said we would have more time,” you said quietly, and his brows drew together in confusion, before nodding affirmatively.

“You have not figured it out yet?” Dimitri teased, reaching down to hold your hand. “I would hope that this was not the only time we would be together like this.”

You were still confused, and he noticed immediately. “I do not mean only in a carnal sense. This is a rather unusual setting, but I have no regrets. I want to marry you.”

Oh... You stared at him in shock. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, only just nervous that he would tell you to leave, that this was a one-time thing. But he had gone in the farthest direction possible from what you had feared. You found that you really wanted this, you wanted to marry him, wanted to stay by his side forever. None of your thoughts made it to your face, your expression blank as you stared at him. Dimitri didn’t seem to understand what you were thinking, and got a little anxious himself.

“If you do not want to, of course…” he muttered. “I do not have a ring, yet I decided to ask this of you. I understand if you do not want this with me.”

He had seemingly already decided his fate, and you smiled softly at him. “I accept.”

“You… you do?” he sounded surprised, and you weren’t quite sure why. He was a wonderful man, and you loved him so much. He was a fool to think anything otherwise. Especially after what you had just done together, and all you both had been through.

He had finally seemed to get the message, and practically lunged towards you, connecting your lips together in a rough kiss. This war would end, you knew, and then the two of you could build a peaceful world together. You looked forward to that, but you knew that you would have Dimitri at your side for anything that came your way, and that gave you all the confidence you could ever need.

#reader insert #xreader #fire emblem #fire emblem 3h #fire emblem three houses #dimileth #dimitri x reader #fe3h x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #smut at the end #smut

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gold-eyes-vengeful-heart · 3 years

Text

White vs Blue

((Runya fights the Diamond Weapon.

Spoilers for the Diamond Weapon part of the questline (5.5 stuff)! Also real big warning for Runya being a colossal asshole and Blue being very angry and yelling about Gaius’ war crimes.))

===

The Diamond Weapon soared out through the deck of clouds ahead of them, and Runya gunned Blue towards it, completely ignoring the startled shouts of the Ironworks men and Sorin and Baelsar in the process. He far outstripped the pace of the heavily-burdened G-Warriors, though the barrage from them had arrived ahead of him...and did absolutely nothing.

Of course it did nothing. That was a Weapon. Had they really expected that to work?

He sent Blue twisting to the side as those shoulder lasers lanced towards him, though even that wasn’t quite fast enough--one nicked the edge of Blue’s wing and the blue Weapon’s thoughts shot through with pain and anger that he had even been hit.

{badbadbadbad--}

“Yes, that was very naughty.” Runya didn’t even so much as slow the two of them down as they barrelled at the Diamond Weapon; his eyes flashed gold as his own mind pointedly melded further into his own Weapon’s, and this time the shower of lasers he simply ducked Blue under, missing the attack entirely and firing back with the aetherial cannon in Blue’s mouth.

{Something’s wrong.} Blue was still focused, at least--Runya would have been quite displeased if he hadn’t been--but he finally gave ‘voice’ to his unease, and Runya didn’t have to ask to know what he meant.

Something was off about it, wasn’t there?

“Runya!” Sorin’s voice crackled in his right ear, which automatically swiveled to follow it (highly disorienting when his subconscious was half-convinced he was a giant flying Weapon at the moment). “Fall back! We’re going to capture it!”

This still seemed like a damned fool’s errand.

“Runya.”

He was half-tempted to simply ignore them. He, after all, genuinely did not care what happened to that stupid girl and her stupid siblings.

“Runya, answer me.”

But...there was Sorin, and so he just snorted in a fit of fine ill-temper and pulled back on the controls, sending Blue arcing up into the sky and letting the two G-Warriors sail by underneath him.

{Hmmmm.}

“Yes, you’re as dubious about this as I am.” He slowed Blue and deliberately dropped him back a bit, and as the Diamond Weapon tried to follow, it zipped between the two G-Warriors...and got caught right in the capture field they generated instead. “Though it did at least stop it for a few moments. Better than I thought it would go.”

The Diamond Weapon’s craggy features split into a hellish roar, and it struggled mightily against the sparking barrier.

{...Runya-friend.} The cautious remark lapped around his ankles. {It talks.}

At first, Runya wasn’t terribly put off by that. “So do you. And I believe all your siblings do too--”

{It is someone.}

Runya sighed again, watching the Diamond Weapon rage against the capture field with increasing savagery. “And so are you? I’m afraid I don’t get what you’re getting at.”

{It has a person-brain!}

Ah.

Runya blinked, rapidly, almost kicked entirely back into his own mind by the surprise.

“...Beg your pardon?”

{It’s...yelling about ‘Allie’?} Blue didn’t even sound certain. {It wants to save her.}

And then it all clicked in Runya’s mind. He interrupted, before Blue could go any further. “Well, I can only presume that was her one brother that wasn’t dead. How...very Merceus of the VIIth Legion.”

Blue’s tail lashed behind him and his wings shivered at the thought, though. {Nonono. Don’t want it. Don’t want to fight.}

Oh, now was really not the time, and Runya’s grip tightened warningly on the controls. “Ah ah ah, it’s a bit late for that.” That barrier was shivering and sparking uncontrollably under the onslaught, and he even had to tweak Blue’s flight path down a bit to dodge a rogue laser. “We’re not running, dear.”

{It doesn’t wanna fight for the Empire. It just wants to be left alone--}

“Blue. Blue...dearest Blue.” The panic and reluctance of the Weapon crystallized around his thoughts and he knew very well he had to convince his own machine to do what he wanted, and he didn’t have very long. Either Blue would run or the Diamond Weapon would burst out of that energy rapidly failing to contain it. “If it really does have one of those boys’ minds in it, he’s likely gone completely mad by now. And there’s no getting him out of there. There’s no getting someone like that back to normal.”

His voice dropped lower until it was almost a growl. “I would know. It’s what they did to Angerona.”

A hint of sadness plinked through the heavy weight of Blue’s hesitation.

“I know you must think it’s cruel to destroy it,” Runya continued, his eyes narrowing and his mind prodding more firmly into Blue’s, “but consider: it would never truly ‘leave everyone alone’, and it would even be a mercy to simply slay him.” Not something he entirely believed, but enough so that it wouldn’t immediately get him caught. (All he wanted to see was those idiots dead, at this point. All that mattered was that it got them out of his way, and taught Baelsar a lesson into the bargain.) “He isn’t like you. His mind was ripped out of its socket and crammed into a death machine, and I very much doubt he’s going to suddenly stop being a death machine just because he blew up the VIIth Legion’s base. You have logic. You have rationality, and you can be spoken with.”

The Diamond Weapon’s chest cannon freed itself, and an ominous glow built in its depths.

“He wouldn’t be fighting his own daddy if he was something that could be saved.”

Blue dropped a bit more, level with the Diamond Weapon, as it hurled invectives at him and snarled that it would keep Allie safe like a mindless drone--even as Baelsar’s voice continued to crackle over the communications link, begging him to stop.

“They failed to shoot him down, and they failed to catch him. So we can and should just kill him.”

The blast carved a notch through the barrier field and the Diamond Weapon shed its armor in a burst of aether, loosing a strange creature of all metal and lanky legs and spikes and a gaping maw that screamed defiance at Runya and Blue, using a pool of aether like a springboard.

“So, Blue. Kill him.”

The Diamond Weapon collided with them in a rending screech of metal, and the weight of an entire extra machine drove Blue back down into the roiling stormclouds below, down towards the fields of Werlyt...out of sight.

Sorin panted as he ran, crossing rain-sodden farmland and still wielding his sword.

They had to be around here somewhere.

“Runya!”

He really doubted that the Miqo’te in question could actually hear him, but he tried anyway, without thinking twice about it. He tried in vain to dash the rain from his eyes, but it worked for only moments, and he was left squinting through the downpour to no avail.

“Runya...” He spoke more softly that time, taking more careful steps, lest he dash right past a sign of where Runya and Blue and the Diamond Weapon had gone. He gnawed at his lip a moment, and for just a moment worried not just about Runya, but about Baelsar--

(The Imperial had yelled at him to just go when the VIIth’s Legatus came charging in, and yes the man was responsible for many an atrocity but he wouldn’t wish death on someone who could at least be open to learning from their mistakes--he was friends with Runya for Twelve��s sake, he was no stranger to the concept!)

--but he was still alone and his furred ears swiveled but were overwhelmed with nothing but the raging rainfall...though...

Wait.

He frowned and his brow furrowed, and his right ear swiveled just moments before his head turned to follow it. Those were not natural noises. Heavy thuds, like--

A shadow loomed up out of the rain, limping slowly.

Sorin bristled and brought his sword to bear, though his muscles ached on him after so much running.

The footsteps thumped into wet earth, accompanied by the hiss of hydraulics and the chattering of loose metal.

For a moment, it looked as if the dark silhouette had the Diamond Weapon’s head and his breath hitched, though he quickly shifted to a stronger stance as it advanced.

And then Blue dropped the severed chunk of the Weapon’s corpse just yalms from his feet, his eyes lighting the rain-soaked gloom in red.

Runya-friend had been very pleased that he had killed the other Weapon. And when Runya-friend’s thoughts had turned towards crushing people, to attacking the little dragon-lady that had fallen out of the bad-weapon’s cockpit, he had knocked Runya out--he knew quite well now how to activate the failsafe that was installed into the Miqo’te, and though he hesitated to use it, he would do it if he had to and he very much had to.

He hadn’t wanted to kill it. He was convinced he had to, but he didn’t want to, and even if he had made it very dead and pulled its head off so it couldn’t hurt people anymore, he didn’t like it, and even the relief in Sorin-friend’s expression and in the thoughts radiating off of him didn’t do much to un-sour Blue’s mood.

(That he was in a significant amount of pain, even with the crystallized parts keeping him from bleeding out, didn’t help.)

(But more importantly, he didn’t want to do that.)

“You defeated him?”

He could dimly hear Sorin-friend through the vortex of his own thoughts, and he just shrugged, though it left part of the armor on his left forearm sparking and sending terrible warning signals to his head.

{bad-weapon is gone.} The tone of his ‘voice’ put a frown on Sorin-friend’s face but he was too tired to care much. Too sad. {bad-weapon-pilot is back there. Runya-friend wanted to kill her.}

And Sorin-friend looked so alarmed that he was quick to carry on. {But didn’t want to. Made Runya-friend stop and go to sleep.}

“I...good job, then.” Sorin-friend closed his eyes. “I’m sorry he did that to you, he really needs to learn to not be like that--”

“Allie?!”

That voice. Blue knew that voice, even if he had only heard it from behind a big horned mask before.

Baelsar came to a screeching halt at the sight of the Diamond Weapon’s severed head, jaws gaping wide in its demise, no signs of life (mechanical or otherwise) in its eyes; his gaze snapped quickly to Blue, still standing some distance away.

Blue was tired and Blue was hurt and Blue was very not happy at all to see him here again. The same man that had given Legatus Merceus the space and the people and the money to hurt him and make him like this when even the empire of thousands of years ago hadn’t done anything half as bad to him as that.

He charged with a snarl of anger, and though Sorin-friend stood in his way, he didn’t have to--Blue wasn’t going to stomp Baelsar even if he might have before meeting the two Miqo’te, and he stomped to a halt just short of them. Given the sheer height Blue had, he had to bend and that hurt a particularly ugly injury in his right leg and sent more warnings screeching into his head, but the dam had broken and the flood was in full force and that anger was not going to be stopped by hurt. Enhanced by it, maybe.

And still, Baelsar had the boldness to stay where he was, and even managed to hiss out a question in the face of an angry IXth Legion Weapon.

“Where is Allie?!”

{Alive. Sleeping.} Blue’s answer remained blunt and disinterested, in the face of the sudden aggravation he felt. {You should go away.}

“Why--”

But the question provoked another growl. {You know why you should GO AWAY.} The last two words, rattling into Baelsar’s mind at greater volume, made the man flinch but he still didn’t move.

“...You were the IXth Legion’s, weren’t you?”

Did he not remember, did he not did he not did he not--

Blue suddenly roared then, and the noise and air blew both Baelsar and Sorin-friend flat; the latter clamped his hands over his now-flat ears, but Blue was beyond reason and his thoughts tidal-wave-crashed over everything in range.

{YOU. HURT. ME.} The roar died away like a receding rocket, but the (undamaged) plates at his neck bristled and his tail lashed, even though that created some sparks and painful jolts. {You hurt Sorin-friend! You hurt Runya-friend!}

“I had nothing to do with--”

{You let the bad men have rooms and money and more men!}

Baelsar went very quiet. Blue went on, storming past any of Baelsar’s more subtle thoughts (and Sorin-friend trying to get him to stop).

{Runya-friend and Sorin friend told me about your bad men. And the little ones you made bad men so you could have more people to hurt people with.} He did overhear Sorin-friend thinking about the leader-little-one (Fordola?) that he had fought, and angrily prodded it into Baelsar’s head too. {And the way your bad men hurt people. Made them monsters. Made them hurt forever. You let your bad men do that.}

Baelsar swallowed hard as Blue leaned in so close that his breath steamed out in clouds around him.

{Your fault. YOUR. FAULT.} Blue hissed out loud. {You didn’t care. You don’t. Not enough. You only care about being hurt, not not hurting anyone else.}

And though Baelsar closed his eyes, as if expecting death, Blue just straightened back up and turned, tail swishing through the air some yalms over Baelsar’s head. {No. I won’t.} He flared his wings tentatively, and then a bit more strongly. {Runya-friend and I are going home.}

Before any of them could protest, Blue stumbled into a shambling run, and his thrusters flared to life and propelled him into the air, wings straining but holding to keep him up in the sky. And the sheeting curtains of rain closed up behind him.

#; writing #5.5 spoilers #Sorin at the end going REALLY YOU COULDN'T TAKE /ME/ WITH YOU #anyway yeah hi anyone following my main will know #i've been ranting about some things today #and that spite has fueled me to finally finish this damn thing omg

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nessiefromspace · 6 years

Note

Terror Prompt: "I think the door is locked!" Zerhys, Gore is okay if you want it.

He called through the glass window. They stared, frozen to their spot until a guard ushered them all up the stairs. Rhys frowned. “What? No!” He banged on the glass. “You can’t leave me here! Hey!” he yelled. But it was clear they weren’t going to help him. He banged on the window. “COWARDS!” he screamed. He watched them turn their backs to him and hurry to safety.

Rhys faced the hallway, the flashing lights reflecting off the tiled floor in the dark.

An alien has escaped capture in the secret government facility and Rhys is trapped there with it.

I hope I did a good job making it horrrorrr.

You can also read this on my AO3!!!

The hallways to the secret military facility were dark save for the flashing red and yellow lights that twirled in alert around the rushing crowds. Scientists, researchers, and engineers were being lead by guards to designated exits. Rhys, among many terrified others workers were ushered this way and that. They had no idea what was happening, but the alarm had sounded and screams could be heard echoing down the halls.

Rhys had a good guess. The alien they had captured and tortured and experimented on had gotten loose. And he was glad for it. He felt no sympathy for the men and women who had ruthlessly chained and beat the creature. Rhys bitterly remembered the dark green blood seeping from open wounds and orifices.

They had detained Rhys when he’d lost it and tried to stop them, proving just how heartless they were. His ribs still had bruises, his jaw was still healing from a cut. He’d been reprimanded and warned no one got fired from here, simply misplaced and Rhys would only get one more warning. But Rhys hadn’t cared, he’d began planning to help the alien escape, fortunately, it seemed to have gotten out on its own.

Now, everyone ran for their lives, shoving past those too slow. They were crazed with fear and it only got worse when they finally reached the corridor with their designated exit. The promise of safety made everyone around him wild and they began to shove each other, shoving Rhys into a wall and making him trip. He scrambled back to his feet, now a good foot or two behind them and sporting a new limp. He hurried with all his might, pain searing through him. He reached the door as the last person barreled through, hearing it click closed just as Rhys ran into it. All the momentum he’d had could not push the door open.

Arms aching and bruised, he peered it at the crowd, staring back at him. “I think the door is locked!” He called through the glass window. They stared, frozen to their spot until a guard ushered them all up the stairs. Rhys frowned. “What? No!” He banged on the glass. “You can’t leave me here! Hey!” he yelled. But it was clear they weren’t going to help him. He banged on the window. “COWARDS!” he screamed. He watched them turn their backs to him and hurry to safety.

Rhys faced the hallway, the flashing lights reflecting off the tiled floor in the dark. His heart pounded, dread pouring over him like ice water. He needed to find another way out. He pushed off the door, his feet an entity of their own, walking separately from him. His head filled with static at the silence in the hall. As he stepped down it, he found his footsteps echoing a thousand times louder than he remembered.

He hugged himself, trying to comfort his panicked mind. He assured himself that he’d find a way out and he wouldn’t meet the creature- the alien. He could hope that it would recognize him and spare him, but Rhys didn’t know its mind. It very well may not have understood what had been happening that day.

His feet clicked along the corridor and he winced all the while at the sound. His ears strained to hear any noise beyond the ones he himself made, but none was to be found. He found the second door with no interruptions, pushing into it with a choked hope only to cry with dread when it was locked.

“No, no, no, no!” he gasped.

He knew the protocol that the doors would lock, but he’d hoped he’d find one in time that wasn’t. His eyes stung with fear and he hastily wiped it away. He needed to focus, to keep his wits about him. He had to escape. He trudged back to the main hall and towards another exit, the lights still flickering. His body shook and he hugged himself tighter, his mind racing and blank at the same time.

He was going to have travel across the expanse of the building, to the other side and to a little known part, where an exit may have been overlooked. He walked briskly, hating the silence and loving it at the same time. Silence meant he was safe, but it also exposed him and his stupid feet clacking away for all to hear.

The stillness of the place made his hair prickle and form goosebumps. Always were scientists bustling about, excited by their horrible projects and counseling with each other. He walked around toppled carts and chairs until he saw a mass of broken vials, their liquids pooling around the shattered glass. It hindered his journey as he stepped over a minefield of spilled chemicals. He had to twist his body this way and that to keep his feet clean of them, his pained body screaming.

Once free of the hazards, he turned to further his trek, smirking at the small triumph. But then he stilled, a scream frozen in his throat. At the end of the corridor, the red and yellow flash of lights bounced off the dark orange body of the alien. It stretched towards the ceiling, lean with two strong arms and legs, watching Rhys. He could see its many eyes reflecting the light as it stared at him.

Stomach in ugly, twisting knots, Rhys felt as though his legs would collapsed right under him. There was nothing to block the alien from chasing him and Rhys wasn’t sure if he could even outrun it. He heard a growl mix with low clicks that sent shivers down his spine. He had seen it plainly that one day and though it had revolted others, Rhys hadn’t found it hideous and he didn’t now. He found it terrifying. It took a step towards him and his heart leapt to his throat, panic turning his feet to lead.

No, he couldn’t just wait for his death, he had to put up a fight or he had to try at the very least. He willed his legs to move, one foot in front of the other until he was running and skidding down a side hall. He didn’t hear it give chase, but Rhys could feel it right behind him. He didn’t know where he was going and every door he tried were locked. He swore seeing it at the end of the hallway, light and efficient on its feet.

Rhys ran, wanting to scream, but was lost for words. He was nearly to the end where he could turn either left or right, but was grabbed, the creature sending him careening to the floor. Rhys yelped, gasping and shivering while the alien crouched over, face inches from his own. Rhys stared with wide eyes at the ten peering back at him. Its mouth opened, sharp fangs hissing. Rhys winced, waiting for those teeth to take hold of his gullet and end him forever.

What he got was wet. Rhys jumped, a surprised squeak shooting from his lips as a tongue met the base of his neck. It went upward, curving over his chin, up his jaw to slime his cheek and pull his hair out of place. Rhys popped an eye open, unsure of what was happening. The alien bent down, resting its forehead on Rhys’.

Flashes whirled around Rhys’ mind. Of a crashed ship and men in suits attacking tying him up. The poking and abuse. Starvation wracked at his stomach while the feeling of their hostility and morbid curiosity gnawed at his sanity. Chains choked and chafed him raw, while feet and fists and objects bruised and cut, making him dizzy with lack of blood. The humans were uncaring, cruel, except that one.

Rhys saw himself, tall and awkward, eyes watching with a curiosity shed of malice and malevolence. There was no hatred that raked against the alien, but a kindness and a sadness at its lack of wellbeing. Then, it watched the human turn angry at the others of his kind, fighting them and getting hurt. Rhys’ heart filled with fury. Rhys called out as the kind one was dragged away, beaten the same as him.

Rhys knew now, could feel the alien inside his head. Zer0, it was called, or at least translated into words Rhys could comprehend. It would not hurt Rhys. It only wanted to find its ship, repair it and get the hell away from Earth.

Calm now, Rhys tentatively put his hand against what he thought was Zer0’s cheek. The location flashed in Rhys’ mind, as well as guards and military storming back in to reclaim the facility.

A harsh growl, low and angry vibrated through Zer0 as he understood. His arms wrapped around Rhys’ waist, pulling him up as Zer0 stood and holding him tight to the alien’s body. It began to run, picking up a speed that was inhuman, through halls and down locked stairwells. Zer0 shouldered down each door without hindrance. Within a few short minutes, they had arrived at the large hanger bay that housed Zer0’s ship.

It was still in one piece, but Rhys could see where they’d messed with it. “I… I don’t know what all they did to it, but I’ll do my best…” Zer0 let him go once his feet were steady and they both went to it. It was large for what Rhys was used to, but he was awed by it. They worked fast. To Rhys’ relief the scientists hadn’t made a lot of progress and they were able to get the ship up and running in no time.

As Zer0 started it up and lights flickered to life, a realization prickled at his heart. “Uh… I guess this is goodbye?” He said quietly, heart clenching at his words and thickening his throat. He didn’t want to leave his new friend, but he knew it wasn’t safe for him on Earth.

A series of light gurgles were made and Rhys felt it in his mind. It wanted Rhys to come with it, longed for companionship like Rhys did.

A wide smile swept over Rhys and he ran for the alien, wrapping his arms around it in a tight hug. His heart was lighter than air, his eyes wet with joy. He could feel the alien’s surprise as it caught him and then laughter as it comprehended. They were both done with this planet and Rhys ready for a new life. A new adventure with Zer0.

#Borderlands #Zerhys #Zer0/Rhys #zer0 the assassin #rhys the company man #fluff #horror #no gore though #Rare Pair Extravaganza

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bubbletimestories · 4 years

Text

Crimson arrow (Clint x reader)

Summary: After Thanos snap, Clint Barton lost everything and even his name. Become Ronin, he drowns in the blood the pain that gnaws at him. When he saves you one night, he sees you as an unknown in the fog but the future proves he's wrong. Pain, love, blood, some relationships are short but intense.Clint is a vampire but frankly, is that so important? (Yes a bit)

Warnings: Major character death (?), sadness, blood, violence, erotism

Themes: vampire, Avengers Endgame, Sad ending, or not, blood drinking, Love, sexual tension, slightly erotic, death, holdinh out for a hero

A/N. I placed the action before the start of Endgame, just to oust Hawkeye's family. One-shot. Have fun and enjoy <3

Translated with Google traduction, sorry ^^'

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21397405

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The rain that falls in big drops on the windows creates a vague filter between you and the world, the illuminated city which extends as far as the eye can see under the timid light of a rounded moon. You had to get used to seeing the world from above, always sleeping close to the clouds because he could not take any room other than the top floor, wherever you go. This makes his former nickname even more present, the very one he refuses to pronounce and has buried deep down like the rest of his past. Hawkeye ... sometimes you're extremely frustrated at not being able to joke about it, referring to Assassin's creed for example. But you hold on brilliantly.

A slight rustle comes to you and you smile before your companion returns, his face soaked with rain despite the dark hood that protects him and he pushes back with a grunt. The night seems to have been long, again. But at least he's alive and does not seem hurt, that's not always the case. Seeing you, the mask of coldness cracks a little and Ronin gives you a look almost tender, the blue of his orbs finding a child warmth despite the folds that mark the outline of his eyes. In these moments, you can easily imagine the simple and funny man that he must have been, his dad jokes while cutting wood, you catch yourself dreaming of chimney fires, a place where to cook and which would be yours, just yours. But already a cloud of bitterness covers the fragile sunbeam and the scenery becomes dark, real, that of an existence where everyone has lost loved ones.

- The manager has passed; I gave her a supplement. Even if she has to make concessions and leave us this room, I wanted her to be good. It's not easy for her.

You don’t really wait for an answer, you quickly understood that his silence was easily offset by your chatter and it suits you. Gently, you help your lover to get rid of his thick coat that falls on the ground, on hand like the sharp arc that always makes you cold in the back after all this time. You saw it in action, this weapon can shoot arrows and decapitate a man in the same movement. And what about the man who handles it ? For the moment, the latter is contemplating you with his usual sullen air, frowning as if you had done something stupid. But it's like the rest, you get used to it and you see it more as his natural expression (like Grumpy Cat) than as an attack. Not at all impressed, you address him a grimace by pressing you against his chest, feeling it frozen through his clothes. Your hand slips under the fabric, almost hot against his skin and you feel Ronin relax slightly. He literally needs to be warmed up, it's cute. Well, he also has cold feet syndrome in bed but does it matter? Tight against each other, you back to the mattress and the young man sits, drawing you between his legs so that you do not move away. His gesture is hesitant, as always, but he finally raises his hand to the back of your neck so that you can bend and he can give you a kiss. His lips are cold but incredibly soft, feeling a slight pressure on yours to translate how much you missed him. He struggles to admit it but to find you again after he has slaughtered criminals does him good, it gives him the impression that he is not totally empty.

A shudder runs through you as the kiss continues and you feel something pointing against your flesh, responding to your own desire. But you have all your time and the atmosphere is not rushing. You step aside slightly, straightening up to look at the face of the vigilante whose tongue passes quickly on his mouth while he observes you. The next part, he knows it, he guesses it rather and he wants it, he wants this time out of the time where he no longer thinks about the pain or the murder. Without pronouncing a word, he removes his shirt, letting you explore his chest as you like to do so, as if it allowed you to have access to a part of him he conceals. On his skin mingles all his life, many scars date back in recent years but some testify to a secret past. You explore them one by one, the touch of your hands warming the hero little by little while you walk each muscle of his being with pleasure. Thoughtful, Ronin lets you do, just caress your jaw and the long scar that goes up on your cheek without it disfigures you. On the contrary, he thinks you are beautiful like that and he had to make you understand it often so that you accept this mark. Concentrated on the pink or white lines, you end up, as always, by looking up to your lover with a supplicating look that amuses him because he likes your curiosity, your natural.

- One day, you will tell me their story, how you made them ... - Maybe but, for now, let me keep some secrets.

You pout and turn your head towards the suspended mirror, towards your solitary reflection in the dim light of the room. You touch the corners of his mouth with a knowing look, smiling as he kisses the pulp of your fingers.

- Don’t you think I already know your darkest secrets ?

The mercenary shakes his head and presses you against him by tipping you on the bed to fold the blanket over your entwined bodies, it's time to take some rest. Your hand caresses his shaved temple while he traces indistinct forms in the hollow of your loins until sleep takes you, tight against each other until morning.

****Flash-back****

The worm-eaten wood is frozen under your legs and you focus on the feeling of freshness rather than the strong smell that emanate from wet boards. Your bare arms are agitated with painful spasms despite your attempts to breathe deeply, panic threatens to overwhelm you at any time and it is imperative that you avoid losing your mind. The rope that grips your wrists, the burning sensation where they put their hands to drag you, everything resonates in your flesh with too much intensity, you struggle to think even if your life is at risk.

At the other end of the room, the men are talking and they don’t hesitate to speak loudly, your notions of Korean leaving you no doubt about their intentions. Without being particularly pretty, you remain appetizing and they will not be choosy, who looks closely in a brothel ? With your heart on the edge of your lips, you listen to them discussing your future through murky scenarios, and the more you think about how you got there, the less you understand when you made a mistake. You were not accosted by a stranger who had offered you a drink, you did not hang out in hot areas, it was not even so late ... You simply lost your way, your hotel was to be a few meters and that was enough for them to fall on you. Everything happened so fast ...

A sob writhes your throat, no one will ever know what you have become, no one. You are a stranger in this country, who came alone to spend a few days in Korea. Who would think to seek you? You'll become an umpteenth gone, your parents will let the local police do some research and then ... they'll forget you, what's a missing when half of the world's population has fallen to dust? Shit ! That's not the way it should be ... It's out of the question that you're sold as a sex toy, you'll be ugly, scream all the curses you know, distort your face to make it repulsive, become a filthy creature that nobody will ever want. We'll see if they can find a buyer ! This thought gives you back a little courage and helps to move away a little the despondency and terror that paralyzed you. It does not save you but at least you are less likely to fall apart.

One of your captors suddenly seems to lose interest in the conversation and turns to you, glancing at your cheap clothes, your absolutly not feminine posture, and your lack of shoes after being dragged away. For some obscure reason, it excites him that you are so disheveled, he wants to test you before letting his boss decide your fate. With a foul smile, he moves away from the group to join you, playing thoughtfully with the waistband of his pants enjoying the fear that rounds your eyes and contracts your limbs. He has always adored women with curves, that's not what is missing from you so he licks his chops in advance. Driven by a kind of instinct halfway between the Harpie and the seagull, you decide to shout at your lungs what goes through your head, an anime opening to be more precise. You are more animated by the hope that your discordant voice twists the eardrums of the pervert than by the idea that a helping soul can hear you (you are far from everything), which does not prevent you from putting heart at work. The Mafioso remains for a moment frozen in amazement before your cry of Valkyrie, a moment much too short. With a kick, he puts an end to your song and cuts your breath, squatting in front of you while you fold in two, your face red and your eyes flooded with tears. Too bad if he is bawling, he wants to give you a good lesson and make you pass the desire to play the rebels. With a steady hand, he raises your chin to meet your eyes, his face cracked with a happy grin testifying to the pleasure he takes with all this. Then, without warning, without losing his smile, he strikes you violently in the face, his signet biting the flesh of your cheek by drawing a scarlet line. Your jaw supports the shock but your vision is totally blurred, your head goes to the side and you make no movement, shocked. Tears flow without restraint, pricking your wound raw but you don’t pay attention.

Your abuser smirks, totally ignoring his companions who are shouting at him, he has the right to have a little fun, right? It's not like you’re going to be expensive. Vibrating with excitement, he extends his hand to your thighs, without noticing the whistling that splits the air behind him. With a dull sound, the arrow pierces through as if he were made of butter and the guy crumbles to the side, dead without even realizing what was happening. The sound of the corpse collapsing heavily near you draws you from your grip and you contemplate the body with a mixture of horror and amazement. But that's nothing next to what's happening a little further, while a hooded figure enters the warehouse through a skylight and begins to slaughter the men present. Although clearly sub-number compared to Mafiosi, this new character is not allowed to defeat, striking on all sides with force and wielding his long and sharp weapon (?) with an impressive fluidity.

First captivated by this extraordinary show, your survival instinct takes over and you seek ways to free yourself and escape. Before you even understood what you were doing, you approach your aggressor and rub the rope that holds your hands against the arrowhead that proudly protrudes from the cadaverous torso. It takes you a moment but you manage to free yourself from your bonds, breathing a sigh of relief that is lost in the mass of combative grunts and groans of agony. When you turn your head, the mysterious assailant executes his last opponent and you watch the mafioso crumble to his knees while holding his throat, a thick liquid escaping from between his fingers. It only took a few minutes and yet none of your kidnappers still breathe. The one who is likely to save your life is catching his breath, running a hand through his hair that the hood no longer covers. He does not seem to be paying attention to you, carefully wiping in his arm the weapon that allowed him to effortlessly decimate half a dozen Mafiosos. From the back, he releases so much anger and pain that you hesitate to approach but the desire to be near a person a little friendly (or at least, who will not try to hurt you) is louder and you walk slowly to this man whose face is vaguely familiar.

- Th... thank you.

Your voice is flickering but you're happy that it's not chopped by the sobs, there's nothing more annoying and embarrassing. The hero turns around and looks at you for a brief moment, seemingly wondering what to answer or do. His face closes and he remains silent, passing you to leave the warehouse with the firm intention to let you get by. He has eliminated these criminals, that's all that matters, he cannot take the time to be nice, it's better that he stays constantly in that fog of anger that prevents him from thinking about what he lost, about his old life of Clint Barton. But you knew it already, right? Seeing the young man about to leave, you are feeling panicky, and if one of the mafia had survived? The mere idea of leaving alone in the night terrifies you and you grab your savior by the sleeve of his coat to prevent him from getting too far away.

- Please ... Just ... just the time to find my hotel.

The supplicating tone contrasts a little with the strength of your grip but the whole has the merit of making Clint hesitate, he really looks at you for the first time. You're chilled with cold, barefoot and your cheek is still bleeding, leaving you here would almost be no assistance to a person in danger ... And then there is something in you that softened a little, which pierces his shell. Nothing very obvious, just a little bit. The young man fixes your wound for a few seconds that seem long before closing the fist and recovering.

- Okay, I'll take you back. Put it on your cheek, you risk attracting attention.

He throws you a piece of fabric that you don’t try to detail, just plating on your cheek (it could be underpants, you don’t care) looking at the strange Robin Hood. As the shock dissipates, you begin to collect the pieces of the puzzle, associating his face with the arrow that killed your aggressor. So, he survived. If you had been told that you would meet Hawkeye ... the hero on whom you got a big crush. He has changed since the attack in New York, but it is the case for everyone. Next to Clint as a chick behind his mother, you leave the warehouse, a cool wind caressing your skin to remind you that you are free, the nightmare as short as intense that you lived is over. After giving him the name of your hotel, you set out in silence and you totally rely on this man you do not really know despite the media but to whom you trust completely. The latter ruminates his thoughts while walking quickly, the body tense as if he was constantly on the lookout. Soon, he puts between him and you several meters away that your short legs and bruised feet cannot fill. Out of breath, you end up stopping, removing an umpteenth pebble from your heel with a grimace. How on earth are hobbits doing?

- Tolkien, hippie bastard ...!

Your extremely gracious exclamation has the merit of attracting the attention of the vigilante who turns around and sees you on one leg, dusting your sore plant. Why do you talk about Tolkien, he does not know anything about it but as he is often compared to Legolas, he feels targeted. Well, he was compared to Legolas. Before. Still, your distress is fun and he comes back to you with a resigned sigh, he must be in a good mood tonight to agree to do that. Anyway, he must help you if he wants to drop you safely before sunrise.

- Hang on my neck and don’t wriggle too much. - What?

You scowl with a lost look before stifling a curse when Clint passes an arm under your knees and lifts you up. Reflexively, you cling to him and you miss strangling him before resting your calm. The situation is completely incongruous, perched that you are in the arms of an Avenger because you have foot pain. His coat rustles against your body and you resist the urge to inhale deeply, even if you already perceive the musky and masculine smell under the fragrances of leather and rain. Red as a peony, you turn your head and cross an extremely disapproving and very blue look, which makes you blush to the extreme. The young man stiffens even more, what you do not think possible, and looks straight ahead as he walks the streets, looking extremely focused as to forget that he carries you. Or, it's because you're heavy. Possible.

Fortunately for you, the hotel is soon in sight and you find the mainland with a mixture of relief and disappointment : without being particularly big, Clint gave you the impression of being in the arms of a giant. Once standing on your two legs, you hand him his handkerchief/piece of tissue regretting to have stained it with blood and he refuses with a categorical gesture. It is now time to leave (and go to bed) so you waddle a bit of a foot on the other before daring to look at your savior trying to remain calm, impassive, zen. And this despite being in front of one of your biggest crushes.

- Thanks for everything, Hawk ... - Ronin, he cuts you stiffly. - Ronin ... Thank you for saving me. - You're welcome. Hmm ... - Y/N. My name is Y/N. - Very good, Y/N. Take care of yourself and... it'll leave a scar.

He indicates your cheek with a sign of the chin then turns his heels and disappears, dark silhouette in the dark night leaving you still lost in the face of this incredible and frightening evening. Your wound stings you and you grimace, provide that he was wrong on this point. Silently, you go to your room and ask yourself what's going to be next, and let's face it, if you’ll ever see Ronin again. It may be your soul nourished by drama and rosy-water scenarios that speak but you sense something special, as if you were led to find him for a specific purpose. But there you may be a little too dreamy. A specific purpose... pff ... and why not Fate ?

**** Back to the present ****

- Take the time to feel it between your fingers, when it slides on your cheek of all its length. Breathe deeply and when you are ready, release the tension.

Ronin's breath makes your hair tremble as he puts his hands on your hips to improve your position, his pelvis pressed against yours. Even if this contact does not leave you indifferent, you remain focused on the tension in your muscles and on the target of fortune several meters away from you. You have already managed to reach closer, bigger ones, so there is no reason why you can not pierce this one. After taking a deep breath, you drop the arrow and grimace feeling the rope hit your breast, you really do not get used to it. The long, dark line splits the air and enters not far from the center. It is not perfect yet but your arms cannot endure anymore so it will be enough for today. In any case, the sun is setting and the increasing darkness will soon prevent you from shooting properly. Keeping you from smiling proudly, you surrender his weapon to the young man by folding and unfolding your aching fingers. Your companion looks at your arrow trying to remain impassive even if, inside, he is rather happy.

- Not bad ... you still need train but it's a good start. - Do not spare my modesty, I was great. Say it.

The man rolls his eyes to the sky by recovering his equipment, keeping silence while knowing very well that it will make you enrage, that you wait some compliments after the long hours of training which you have just undergone (with request).

- Let's say I'm a good teacher.

A teasing glow that one might have thought dead shines fleetingly in his blue eyes before he regains his seriousness. But you don’t need more and you smile in front of his look of badly licked bear that you got to know and appreciate. You return to your nest of the day, walking side by side, letting your hands brush against each other. You're totally exhausted but it was worth it, the day went much better than you expected. Ronin is not fooled by your intentions and as you go past an umpteenth monument in memory of the missing, he glances at you.

- Thank you for keeping me busy.

He adds nothing, plunging into his thoughts turned to the past, to those he misses and he does not hope to see again. This day is a hell for everyone, remembering that the years pass though the world has stopped turning round. You often think of the life you had, the people who have evaporated as those who have remained. Do you miss them? Infinitely. Do you regret having fled to a foreign country ? No, you cannot say it.

You arrive quickly "at home", it will be time to separate, at least for this night. Having managed to divert Ronin from his dark thoughts for several hours is already a feat, but he must also be allowed to perform his own rituals. As he prepares to leave you, you hold him by the hand, taken by a strange presentiment.

- Kiss me, I deserved a little tenderness, you torturer.

Even if he grumbles a little for the form, your lover nods and wraps you in his coat, placing a kiss on your mouth and your forehead. He never thought he could meet someone like you, a semblance of calm and warmth in the darkness. Sometimes he feels remorse at the idea that you make him happy but he can not leave you, there are limits to his punishment. But already he departs, adjust his coat making sure his bow is ready, his quiver is full. He faints in the shadows and shudders as he thinks about what he's going to do. Like every night, he will hunt, slaughter the underworld and criminals who swarm when night falls. He does his own justice and if it does him good, it’s perfect. It is not as if the order still really reigned since Thanos arrival.

As you return to your room and get rid of your shoes, you imagine what these hunts look like. You have already attended one of them but not until the end, Ronin could not finish the job since you were there. He agreed to tell you about it once, long after he told you his secret, and in vague terms. He simply said that he felt no pleasure and that their blood had a taste of ash, a stale aroma. Three, four bastards are enough to keep him alive for several days, the rest is simply for execution. But tonight is special, who knows what anger can trigger in him, if he will have the same control over his thirst for revenge and blood. You hope so, you have confidence. After all, he never hurt you. He is a hero.

The door slams and you stand up abruptly, you had to fall asleep after this long day of archery. Still half in the vapes, you look for the young man, a little surprised that he made noise, he who knows how to be discreet as a shadow.

- Ronin?

Nobody answers you and you wonder if you did not dream that sound of door when a muffled sound reaches you. It's not really a sound of pain, more a complaint or... a sob? The worry ends to wake you and you approach the door, hardly distinguishing a silhouette in the darkness. No doubt about his identity, you learned to recognize his musculature, the line of his hair... But you are surprised to find him prostrated, a slight tremor running down his shoulders, him you've never known otherwise than impassible and master of himself. Made dumb with anguish, you lay your hand on the thick leather of his cloak, still wet with a rain that must have fallen during your sleep, and drag him to the window to contemplate him by the moonlight. The young man lets himself go, feeling like he's out of his body.

The first thing that strikes you is the pallor of your companion's face, how much his features are drawn. His azure eyes don’t rest on you, preferring to fix the exterior landscape, darkened or rather veiled by a strong emotion. It is only then that you notice the blood that stains his hands, makes his coat shine and defiles his face with an infamous mark. This is the first time he appears before you so... dark, still carrying traces of his nocturnal activities. You often had to heal his wounds but never to see him in this vampiric aspect. The visible shock of your lover prevents you from believing that it is the blood of a simple criminal, but whose is it?

- What happened ?

In spite of your efforts to maintain a calm tone, your voice is weak and you cannot hide the fear on your face. Ronin shudders as he hear your voice and he looks down at his scarlet hands. He, the icy assassin, is unable to tell you about his crime. How could you accept what he did? His mouth articulates mute words as he looks back at the alley, her corpse laid in the rain, her face frozen in a mask of horror. Everything happened so fast... he was so obsessed with his pain, his anger, his desire for blood that he slipped. The silence drags on and you begin to imagine the worst scenarios, this evening was already a trial for him, what happened ?

- Talk to me... I’m freaking out.

Not knowing what else to do, you take a towel, anything, and start wiping Ronin's face and hands to remove the crimson stains. The softness of your gestures even as he sees only a monster in himself triggers like a shock in the young man who seizes your wrists forcefully and falls to his knees, shaking with sobs that hurtling down his cheeks, completing to wash the blood. He cries for a long time, without trying to hold back his tears, like a child, and you hold him tightly without a word, cradling him until he calms down and confesses everything to you. Never have you seen him so vulnerable, pressed against you as you protect him from the world. Or maybe of himself.

****

Midnight sounds and you sigh, another year has elapsed since Thanos wiped out family, friends, normality ... You take the time to quietly gather for those you have lost but deep in your mind resonates a worried voice that prevents you from being perfectly focused on your mourning. Today, billions of candles will be lit, we will wear black, we will commemorate the memories, because it feels good. But a person will not manage to get better and this despite all his efforts. Or maybe he refuses to really get better because it would be horrible, that would mean continuing to live. We can not talk enough about the guilt of the survivors ... This person, you would like to help him, it's been a long time since you think about it and you seem to have found an idea. Stupid probably.

Ronin passes in front of you, dressed in his shadow suit, his bow clenched in his fist. This night more than any other, he is preparing to make a massacre, to shed blood hoping to feel better then. But you both know that he will come home exhausted, his gaze empty and burned with a feeling of shame and disgust, because he will not be able to restrain himself. The thirst that animates him is inexhaustible, you are aware of it, but maybe you can help a little. Your hand closes on his and you stand in front of him, the latter guessing your thoughts even before you open your mouth.

- Don’t stop me, Y/N, I need it. - Really ? Do you think that will help you, really? - Yes, to eliminate rots makes me feel good, that's enough for my happiness. - It was not enough last time...

There is no real reproach in your voice, only sadness and a statement. Clint's face cringes, however, at the memory of the teenager who has suffered his vengeful fury. He felt nothing killing her, nothing at all, as if she had been one of those criminals. Hatred, anger, pain, he was blinded by his thirst for blood and it was enough for a moment... You perceive how painful this memory is, you remember his return, livid and his hands still wet, uncontrollable tears thar had shaken him. This scene, you have often thought about it, almost every day and it has deeply marked you. At the time, you didn’t know what to say; now you sense what you have to do. You look into the eyes reddened by thirst, squeezing your lover's icy hand.

- Let me help you…

You have absolutely no intention of preventing him from killing garbage or feeding on their blood, he is doing it all year long and this is just one way of enforcing justice while allowing him to feed himself. On the other hand, you do not want him to slip further, that the pain of having lost all those he loved burns him to the point that he does not only slaughter those who deserve it. If you can spare him this shame, you will do it without hesitation. It's all about control, not throwing himself into the darkness like a wild beast. When you think about it, you accept his condition of vampire with a lot of calm, maybe because it's not crazier than the rest or because you love him too much to be afraid. Who would have thought that the Avenger that is often forgotten was much more than an archer? Even before the Snap, Clint had a dark secret that no one, except Natasha, knew. Even the great Nick Fury had no suspicion. It must be said that the hero was a model of exemplarity, able to walk in full sun despite the pain, feeding exclusively on blood bags. Never had anyone seen his fangs, nobody before you. Bu it seems taht the Snap has removed all control at the same time as his family. But let's go back to the present, to Ronin who refuses to listen to you, to your clenched hand on his, to determination in your eyes.

- Don’t go like that, let me help you stay in control, stay a hero.

The young man groans on hearing this word but you don’t care, he remains forever an Avenger for you, in spite of everything. And you too, you want to be heroic, even if it's short-term, just tonight. You push back the hood that hides the features loved, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek while you feel him tremble by hugging you gently. You have won, you feel it. You are aware that you may die, it is a risk to consider, but it is not only for the survival of the one you love but also of the one he was, the one he is still deep within, he has to continue to exist. And then it saves an innocent life. No, you are not totally a saint, there is a little pride there. But no matter your motivations. And then, you trust him. You just have to avoid him leaving thirsty, it's simple. As you spread your neck apprehensively, you whisper in Clint's ear, a laugh in your voice.

- I guess I had to meet you. Nice to help you fill your gap.

It's awfully awkward but it doesn’t matter, you feel the hot breath of the young man against your throat as he laughs silently and that's enough for you. Eyes closed, you focus on your other senses, note how Ronin tightly squeezes you against him in a last movement of hesitation before accepting your decision (you're always right). He will know how to contain himself, he loves you too much to lose you. His mouth is on the thin skin and you shudder at this contact, the hard lips seem cold as stone but it is not fear that softens your knees. Not only. The time stretches and you feel him against you as the caress becomes kiss, both tender and feverish, tearing you a sigh. How could you be afraid ?

You cling a little harder when his tongue touches the hollow of your neck, it could look like any hug if the end was not special. Your heart beats wildly and you smile murmuring his name, his real name, while your lover decides to dive into your flesh to quench his thirst. Without being able to return to him what he has lost, you have the possibility to fill him, just a little, and that makes you happy. At the moment, the pain pierces you and you moan but it only lasts a moment, the young man is so sweet that you do not pay attention to the burn on your throat. Carefully, Ronin lies you down on the floor, still drinking, supporting your head as you feel lost. Your thoughts are confused but you feel the tenderness of the embrace, the sweetness with which he drinks while making sure not to hurt you, the movement of his mouth. He gave you love, a happy life despite the circumstances, so what is a little blood?

The one who was called Hawkeye kisses your throat one last time before standing up, split between gratitude and pain. He admires your lifeless body, your face frozen in a half-smile as an ultimate finger to the sadness of this world in ruins. He could not stop but you both knew it would happen. Before he leaves, he plants a rose between your teeth, because he knew your dramatic side perhaps, or to make the scene less morbid. Then he disappears murmuring your name gently. He will never forget you, it's a promise.

#crimsonarrow #hawkeye #clint x reader #Ronin #vampire #blood #love #death

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limpblotter · 7 years

Text

5Pointz

a/n: In memory of 5Pointz being announced for demolition in August of 2014; it was one of the saddest moments of modern-gentrification in NYC history. It was a real shame losing one of the most iconic buildings in Urban Expression only to be made into luxury buildings, I’m sad that the 7train view won’t ever be the same but I’m hella glad it existed and I couldn’t stop thinking about how a certain fictional character would have taken this news. Summary: Pete takes a blow to his mood, Carla helps a brother out. Warning: Curing and Gentrification talk also this is PLATONIC Carla and Pete. w/c: ~3k

“Sonny you’re late.” Usnavi heard the door swing open; his back was to the front since he was restocking a few shelves. A job that belonged to Sonny but again, he was late. This was around the time Sonny would say something cheerful yet mocking. Something about how he’s family or how much Usnavi loved him. Two years of this nonsense, Sonny was seventeen now and still cracked the same jokes without fail. He was a creature of habits. So every nerve in Usnavi’s body tingled when he didn’t hear any response. “Sonny?” Was he mistaken? Was it not Sonny? When he turned he saw Sonny had moved to the register. His eyes down, as he tapped the keys absently not pressing down hard enough to actually type anything.

Usnavi’s makeshift parenting senses were firing alarms. Something was wrong.

“What’s with you? Tienes un bajon de bilirrubina (you look down**saying not literal translation**)” Usnavi cocked a brow at his direction but it did nothing to lighten his absent somber face. Usnavi drew a bit closer, pretending to be scanning the shelves and not the bags under Sonny’s eyes. When he got to the front desk he found his eyes were puffed, red outlined the waterline of his eyes and worry grappled Usnavi’s chest as it did many of times. It wasn’t easy being a patron figure to a teenage boy. Con cuidado. Tread with care.

“So…um…what were you doing last night? Hanging? Chilling?” Crap what did the kids call it now?

Sonny shrugged no comment to Usnavi’s poor grasp of today’s terminology. It was actually painful to see someone who was so cheerful look so devoid. “Nothin’” Sonny pursed his lips as he angrily fiddled with the cashier.

“Ta’bien.” Usnavi started to back away, “Just wondering If maybe you got something on your mind or—“

“I’m gonna check the backroom, k?” Sonny brushed past Usnavi so quickly the wind of his afterimage smacked him in the face. It had been a good while since Sonny acted this way, this distance…Usnavi like to think they were over this kind of teenage angst and they were a lot more understanding and open.

Aye, dios. Usnavi did not want to relive Sonny’s emotional years again. It was time to call in the big guns.

After making a very swift phone call, Usnavi stayed at the front. Sonny didn’t seem to come out from the backroom which, one could say did make a good dupe for Sonny’s bedroom. The smell was about the same. “I came as soon as I could.” Nina walked through the doors, hair a mess, still dressed in her gym clothes. Usnavi eyed her up then quirked a brow. They shared a silent question and answer before Nina sighed, “Vanessa started a Zumba class and I’m beat.”

“I figured, you know she tried to get me to do one of those….sweaty, shake-your-ass classes?” Usnavi chuckled a bit letting Nina catch her breath.

“Ha.” She snorted cutely, covering her mouth with her hand. “Esa loca.” With a short scan of the store, Nina’s laugh was stifled by the lack of chipper hellos and small talk. The store did feel less welcoming without Sonny’s almost unnaturally cheerful, teenage presence. “Where is he?”

“Back room…”

“How bad?”

“You remember the day someone told him feeding rice to pigeons was actually one of the main sources of their death when he was ten?”

“Poor boy couldn’t stop crying everytime he saw a bird…I had to blindfold him everytime we passed the park or it was waterworks until we got home from school.”

“Worse.”

“No”

Usnavi thumbed to the door. Nina didn’t need to say much, she could tell but Usnavi’s tired expression he was worried about him. There wasn’t many things that would put Sonny in such a sour mood. Usually it was something large scale, like politics or news. Nina could only keep her mind on so many topics, Sonny was far better at keeping up to trend with what was going on in the world. She opened the backroom and found Sonny slumped up against one of the 50 pound rice bags, using the produce as a make shift beanbag chair while his hat covered his face and his phone was flat on his chest. “Hey, Sonny” Nina smiled closing the door behind her. “Mind if I…pop squat on the grains?”

She got no answer, not even a hello from her favorite kind in the barrio. Sonny shrugged a bit giving Nina all the ok she needed. “Thanks, my legs are like jello…” the Zumba class was Sean Paul themed, there was just a bit too much leg and hip action for Nina’s tastes. “So…you gonna tell me what’s up or is Usnavi gonna have to start breaking out the Santeria candles from Carla and Daniella’s place?”

They both wished she was joking but if Sonny didn’t start explaining soon the whole store was going to start smelling like rose water and old, waxy incense from the Virgin Mary candles they had laying around. “Pete…” Sonny croaked a bit, the name made Nina’s mouth open into an “O”. This all made sense now that Sonny said that. After all Usnavi had no idea… “He hasn’t said a word to me…he’s been real cold Nina…like…” He sat up, teeth gnawing at his full lower lip.

Teenage romance was always a lot more dramatic than it needed to be. “Its summer, maybe Pete is busy meeting his August tagging quota.” She smiled, but something in Nina knew better. Pete and Sonny weren’t normal teens. In a lot of ways, they were tiny adults. Far more mature than most their age. Seen a lot more stuff, more pain and trails. It didn’t sound right that this would bother Sonny this deeply.

“Its not like him not to talk to me…What if he’s hurt or upset?”

Nina leaned over from her bag of rice, feeling the millions of grains shift her weight making her nearly sink to the ground. With her last efforts she ran her hand down Sonny’s arm (though was actually aiming for his head) and frowned, “why don’t you tell me when you last spoke with Pete?”

Sonny stiffened a bit at the question, he readied himself and slowly coughed out with a slight pink hue forming at the apples of his cheeks. “I…was taking the train back from Pete’s place in Queens.”

“Ok….” Nina smiled, of course masking her immediate need to ask questions. Everything in her screamed for more details of why, how, and what happened but she channeled OUT her father’s interrogatory genes and went for her mother’s understanding. “And everything was fine?”

“It was cool, he walked me to the train station, usually he rides back and leaves me at the turnstile so he can just hop back on the train but…I dunno he got to the top of the station and all the sudden he just said he had to ‘bounce’ and left me there…” Sonny flipped over his phone. He scanned the messages he left Pete. The progression of emojis and playful goodnights then turned into worried ‘hello?’ and ‘you there?’s was almost too painful. He over analyzed every text and every emoji. “He hasn’t spoken to me since…” He roughly placed the cap on his head and yanked it down until the brim was bent irregularly against his nose.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure Pete has a reason.” Nina rubbed his arm a bit more before Sonny fully turned and released a few frustrated tears. Just like those blindfolded tear jerkers back when he was ten, Nina soothed her favorite barrio babysitting boy with soft head pats and promises of lechosa smoothies.

“So Sonny is having trouble with Pete? That’s terrible – “ Carla was rudely interrupted by some of the larger rats that scurried the wet sidewalks of the city during the Summer nights.

‘Hey Mami where are you headed’

‘Heeeey bella~’

“Carla donde en el diablo eres?” (Carla where the HELL are you). Daniella’s voice did not seem too pleased from the other end of Carla’s flipphone. “Don’t tell me you took that malido siete otraves!” (Damn seven again).

Carla quickly covered the phone as she hurried passed somewhat drunk catcallers, up the uneven, iron and trash ridden staircase of the subway. “Dani, I’m sorry but the other trains are delayed, only one runnin is the seven.” She smiled quickly getting on the platform.

“Aye padre santos.” Daniella groaned, “just be careful, ok? I don’t want to turn on my tv and find out that you’re on the news.”

“Oh I’ll be on the news? What for? Will I win something? Like Family Feud.”

“No you’re going to win, where the hell did Carla go, I dunno she was last seen taking the damn 7 train to the ghettos.”

Carla pursed her lips a little, “Daniiii, I don’t think there is a game like that on tv.”

“Muchacha, pay attention to the train, call me when you’re walking home, ok?” Carla could hear Daniella sigh into the phone; she could almost hear her pinch the bridge of her nose too. With soft goodbyes and Carla closed her phone and waited under the dim, orangey subway lights.

Nights in the city were beautiful in a somber way. Things were grayscaled once dusk hit. Everything was a muted color, with a few splashes of bright lights off cars and traffic signals. It was a sea of muddled browns and gray, an ugly background with electric pops of color that brought the nightlife to life. The seven train was a good place to see it all, the brick and iron that rose up from the concrete jungle. Once the seven train left Manhattan it was above ground giving Carla the view of Queens. A flat borough in comparison to the towers of Manhattan and the brick palaces of Brooklyn but it was home to Carla.

The train, as always, stopped at Queensborough Plaza. And as always, it was nearly vacant. Carla almost missed it, but the moment she looked up she noticed a figure sitting on the outer, iron support beams of the train station. “Pete?” Carla blinked then shot up, narrowly getting caught between the closing doors, she squeezed past with all her curls intact. She drew closer, wobbling on her high wedges as she made her way over to the far railing of the subway. She looked down and Carla felt her face grow pale.

What a drop.

“Pete, that you?” She knew that cueball head anywhere, his headphones stuck in his ears as he just stared out. Pensive, even in the dark his expression was still gloomy enough for Carla to take some notice. “Y-You know it’s a little dangerous to be sitting up on the beam like this? I know you’re into that hardcore stuff but I don’t think you’ll do ok if you fall.” Carla spoke shakily keeping her legs as far from the edge as possible. “Pete can you hear me?”

No answer, Pete kept looking forward; his eyes fixated on a building that was just a little too dark for Carla to make out clear enough. With a small nudge of her wedged foot, she poked Pete’s arm and caused him to jerk so hard he shifted off the far side of the beam and pulled his body up so he was standing, the back of his heels dangling dangerously off the edge. “What?” He snapped at Carla, who’s face immediately fell a bit. “…what are you doing here, Carla?” He hissed, taking the headphones out of his ears.

“I was going home when I noticed you were just sittin there like some gargoyle.”

“Yea…I’m not really feeling up to going back to my place.”

“Or the shelter?” Carla knew Pete’s home life wasn’t stable. He left and came back frequently, more often than not he stayed in city run shelters.

Pete shook his head a bit, “not feeling it.”

“Not feeling Sonny either?” He didn’t respond, he looked away, debating whether or not to stick the headphone back in his ears. “You know if something happened, if he did something…”

“Sonny didn’t do nothing.” Pete huffed, “just…something came up…its dumb.”

“Not too dumb, you’ve been leaving Sonny on read.” Carla’s point to the obvious made him cringe. “You know Sonny is real sensitive, whatever is buggin you is buggin’ him, and if it’s buggin him then its buggin Usnavi and if its buggin him its buggin Benny, then Nina, Vannesa, Daniella, then—“

“I get it, I get it!” Pete yelled a little angrier than he liked to be. “The whole fucking barrio is wondering what’s my deal but its stupid no one will get it.”

“Try me.”

Pete paused for a second, and then looked up at the various, criss crossing support beams that framed the upground train platform. “Can you climb?”

“Um…I guess, I use to climb those rocks in Central Park when I was a kid…like once.”

“If you wanna know…you gotta be able to see it….” Pete held a hand out to Carla.

“You…want me to scale the side of a train station platform? Are you…nuts?”

Pete didn’t say a word, he kept his hand out for her as Carla deliberated. With a small huff she kicked off her wedges and took Pete’s hand. The surprisingly strong grip guided her around the iron beam until she was hanging off the outside, very aware that dropping from here was most certain death. “You know if I die, Daniella will kill you.”

“You’re not gonna die, there is a ladder right here that construction uses to fix up the seven.” Pete laughed, as did Carla. It was common Queens knowledge the seven was never truly ‘fixed’ it was a dying line barely chugging along. Keeping her close, Pete helped Carla shimmy across a small strip of metal towards the ladder and began to climb up. Her thin arms shook by the time she got to the top. “Like the view?”

“Oh my…god…Pete…” Carla’s eyes lit up as they stood at the top of the train station, overlooking several buildings. The lights that danced off the windows of the apartments, streetlights were glowing but most importantly, there were large, spot lights all pointing up at a large yellow building.

There was graffiti all over the building, really all over it. It looked abandoned but still so…alive? The function of it was clear, it was living and growing canvas. The original yellow paint of the building poked out between art pieces from armature tags of gang names and signs to pieces of memorials to Biggie Smalls and Tupac. There were images and symbols, from works that were dated and began to melt into the yellow to newer, clearer pieces that stood out vibrantly. Every inch of the building was a work of art, even spots that seemed humanly impossible to reach had a piece. “I know this building; I pass it a few times…It’s a school right?” Carla spoke but couldn’t tear her eyes off it. IT was like no matter where her eyes glanced there was something newto see, another artwork lurking like the most amazing game of I-Spy yet.

“Nah it was a water factory in the 70s, but never came to be. Local taggers started getting to the place until finally in the 90s’ some guy bought it up and never did anything with it. Some of the best Graffiti artists come here. 5 Pointz…from all 5 boroughs.” Pete smiled looking over the building. “First time I saw it…I was 4…maybe 5…my mom and I walked passed this HUGE building and I saw a couple of guys taggin it. They were just writing their names but…their name was right next to some of the greats. Tracy 168, Cope 2, Dan Plasma. They took back the name “vandal” and coined aerosol artist…”

Carla watched the small smile grace Pete’s lips. Pete had no mentor, no artist teacher, he was a student of the city. Of the Urban culture, and she could almost make out in her head a small bald Pete spying on the big time artists. Watching what they did, copying them until he could hold a can. The City was his teacher and for an artist this was the biggest canvas in all of New York. “Did ya ever get to tag anything on there? Maybe we can see it from here.” Carla squinted her eyes and tried to spy a Peter Ospina original.

“No.” He declared coolly, exhaling deeply from his flared nostrils. “Never got the chance…I’ve been thinking about what I’d put there…nothing ever felt good enough so I practiced for years and…” He motioned to the otherside of the building where bulldozers were parked menacingly around the side.

“…Oh…Pete…”

“They’re tearing it down. The city is tearing down one of the oldest…most urban form of expression. This is a god damn symbol of New York and-and they’re tearing it down like its nothing!” Pete held out his arm in exasperation. “They’re building apartments no one can afford to live in instead.”

Carla felt the anger roll off Pete’s body. She couldn’t lie…she was angry too. “So that night…”

“I was walking Sonny to the train and I saw construction crew filing up I knew…I just had to see for myself and I didn’t want to believe it…” Pete pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and squeezed with so much pressure, Carla feared his eyes would pop into his sockets. “I know its dumb…I shouldn’t be this mad but…I haven’t been able to let it go…how could they tear this all down? They’re erasing us…whether it’s the latinos and blacks in the ghetto, or the Asians in Chinatown…even the Jews by the Waterfront. Where are we going? Where will we end up? Who's going ’o remember us when the city is white and covered in glass…in buildings to high up they can’t even see out their own asses…”

Pete’s breathing got irregular as his annoyance of his nostalgic building posed more existential worries inside of him.

“It sucks this gonna be gone…” Carla began softly, her eyes looking it over once more. She was happy…Pete shared this with her. She …understood what he meant. It was bigger than just a building full of forgotten art work. It was a statement being whited out and taken off the narrative only to be written over. “But it won’t be gone-gone.” She glanced at Pete. “There won’t be another 5 pointz, but I mean think of all the greats who’ll never know this place? There are other…pointz out there. And you? Pete you’ll carry this place no matter where you go. You remembering this, keeps this alive just like the people who remember us keep us …alive.”

Pete hung his head a little; her words were chipping away at his attitude slowly but surely.

“When my parents kicked me out…I was all alone on the streets. Who was going to remember me? Poor Carla just another statistic of girls being kicked out of the house. Poor Carla will probably end up being a baby mama with no job…poor Carla…can’t go back home so who’s going to care when she’s not around.” She twiddled her thumbs a little. “There is a reason why I always say I’m from Queens…”She muttered softly. “No one would have remembered me if I didn’t find Dani’s salon and begged for a job. And now?” Her hand gently patted Pete’s shoulder. “I got people who wait for me, people who call me, people who will remember me.”

His eyes darted up at Carla who was staring right back at him with a smile. “You sharing this with me? Keeps it alive…keeps you alive…I’ll never forget this.”

They sat there for a long moment, taking in every piece possible trying to ingrain every nuance of color into their minds. Finally Pete stood up slowly and opened his phone. He typed fast, and fumbled a bit making some typos but didn’t bother to fix them. He sent the text and nodded. “Thanks Carla.”

“For what?” She slowly stood up with him, being careful not to fall off the top of the station. She went for the ladder hastily, clinging to the iron bars for dear life.

“For keeping this alive…there…um, there might be someone else I gotta show this to…”

“Oh who?” The curlycued woman waited for Pete to begin climbing down the faded, brown industrial ladder before following.

“Let’s just say I hope Sonny is good at climbing” Pete chuckled slowly scaling down the ladder behind Carla.

#ith #in the heights #fanfiction #in the heights fanfic #fanfic #usnavi de la vega #sonny de la vega #graffiti pete #carla #paint chips #sonny x pete #peter ospina #carla solano #daniella #daniella cuevas #my drabbles #warm up

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observationnationstation · 7 years

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The Path To Froopy Land

“It was just more practical to sequester you before I had to start, you know, cloning a replacement for every less-than-polite little boy or gullible animal that might cross your socio-path.”

Let’s dive a little deeper into that gullible animal bit, shall we?

Warning: mature content. Animal abuse and gore. Also these are all drabbles. I do not spell check or recheck them before posting.

Even at a young age the girl acted like her father. Science enthralled her as if it were part of her. But not science in a mechanical way. Not one of dimensions and creating. Oh no. The science that gnawed on her constantly was biology. The way flesh intertwined with blood to create something living. Fascinating even at her young age.

She managed to catch a squirrel once. It trashed in her grip, already wounded, and chittered away in an attempt to free itself. Beth chewed on her lip, peering behind her shoulder at the house. Inside she could hear her parents voices, raising and falling in volume.

They wouldn’t notice. The six year old was sure if it.

So she makes her way to the shed with the wounded animal held tightly in a way to keep it from biting at her flesh. In truth there were tools in the garage that would be more useful, probably, but she wasn’t allowed in there if her father wasn’t there. Even than she was shooed away more often than not.

Almost gingerly she places the squirrel inside an old box with random items left to rot. She clasps it close before twirling around. She hums to herself as she looks for the old forgotten tools that were replaced at one point or another.

A giggle escapes as she finds when she needs, placing an array of tools on the chipping desk neatly. Once done she places her hands on her hips, smiling because she loves to play surgeon. Though she isn’t very good /yet/ she had to keep trying. Trying like Daddy does until he finally makes his invention.

She grabs the squirrel out of the box by the scruff of the neck. It seems weaker now, chest rising and falling like a humming birds wing.

Well, one that she hadn’t failed to fix anyway.

“It’s okay Mr. Squirrel.” She reassures. “Doctor Beth is here to help.” And with her left hand she pins the squirrel to the surface of the desk. She debates where it’d be best to restrain the animal with minimal damage. Knocking them out or making them sleep was impossible without killing them. So she had to make do with what she could find.

Without second thought she picked up a heavy metal object and pressed it into the scruff of the animals neck. Smoothing the flesh onto the table she brings the tool down.

Thunk!!

Eeeeeeeeeck!! eerk eeeerkk!!

The staple gun pierced the flesh like butter, connecting the creature below her. She hums as she ignores the sharp, pained squeals of the animal and continues to staple it completely to the table. The entire time she soothes it with promises that she was there to help. It would all be /okay/.

A new ruby red smears across old browned stains of blood along the table. With the belly exposed she could really see the way the chest swelled and emptied at an amazing speed, irregular and frantic as the animal realized it wouldn’t be escaping today.

“Now we begin.” She states, turning her head as if talking to an invisible person. “Now, nurse. Scalpel. I know it looks like a-a simple broken arm but…but…i think there is something wrong with his heart.” Her head turns pitifully toward the animal. “But we will fix him right up! Now scalpel!” She demanded before snatching the tool up. Changing the pitch in her voice as she answered herself. “Yes Doctor Sanchez, right away Doctor Sanchez.”

She runs a finger down the animals exposed stomach, feeling dizzy with excitement bubbling and popping within her. Than, slowly and precisely, she presses the tip of the kitchen knife into the squirrel ribs. It’s shrill cries consistently ring in the air. She ignores the blood leaking everywhere as she pries it’s ribs apart. They crack like small twigs between her fingers. The animal is making noises she hasn’t heard before. Gutteral and broken shrieks and chitters as she digs around the animals insides with her fingers. She tries to not let it distracted her. It was the first time she got to practice with a squirrel. More often than not it was just birds with broken wings.

Sling shots did a lot more damage than Beth originally thought. She practiced a lot and daddy even praised her when she could knock off beer cans from the fence.

The young child didn’t even notice when the animal stilled with a few last desperate noises. She was to enthralled with the heart she’d carefully pulled from it’s chest. The flesh like arteries snapping like old rubber bands.

She frowned though. It was bigger than the birds hearts she caught but still much to small. It was another failed attempt. She sighs in frustration as she sets the organ in the table. She pulls open the drawer and grabs a sandwich baggie, ones she saved from her school lunches so her mother wouldn’t notice things going missing again. She plucks the heart from the table and drops it into the bag. She twists it up and sets it next to the other baggies she filled with other failed attempts at gaining a good enough heart.

She pokes at one of the older bags, now more a puddle of brown mush than a pinkish lump. A small smear of red lingers on the plastic as she pulls her hand away, slamming the drawer shut. So gathering a bunch of little hearts wouldn’t work either. They went bad too fast.

In her rage she tugs the dead squirrel from the table. Fingers digging into the wet warm fur. The skin makes a squelch like noise when it slowly rips free from the stables. An agitated grunt escapes her as the intestines smack against her hand. She squeezes her hand around the middle to keep most of the organs inside as she stomps out the door, the long tube of pink dragging along the dusty wooden planks of the shed as she went.

She stops dead in her tracks when she swings the door open and a few paces away stands her father. She falters, lip quivering, because he wasn’t supposed to find out yet.

“Beth? What–what the…fuck.” The man stuttered, staring with wide confused eyes. Beth shoves the hand clutching the dead animal behind her back. Her father snaps out of it and strides forwards. He stands like a tower above her.

“Yes daddy?” She cooes hoping that he wouldn’t spoil the surprise. Hoping he wouldn’t figure it out.

“Show me what you’ve got.” Rick demands, unibrow knitting downward. A pout formed as she down casted her eyes, flinching at the distaste in his voice. The authority. She was in trouble. “Now Beth.” He added on, irritation growing in his voice. Concern somehow managing to seep into them as well.

“I was just trying to help.” She declared as she rashly pulled her arm back, throwing the dismembered creature into the ground as hard as she could. The corpse bounces and spilled it’s insides along the ground. Tears burned in the corner of her eyes at the frustration of it all. “I just wanted to help daddy! I swear.” She continued, fists bunched at her sides as tears began to fall freely onto her redden cheeks.

Rick didn’t hesitate to pick the child up into his arms, hushing her.

“Next time come get me.” He tells her gently, staring at the disfigured squirrel before him. “If daddy can’t make it better we can take it to a vet.” He explained, a matter of fact. Beth curls against him and nods.

“I just wanted to help.” She repeats with a sniffle.

“I know sweetie. I know. It’s not your fault it didn’t…didn’t make it. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Than we can have some ice cream.” Rick consoles her.

“Okay Daddy.”

She doesn’t tell him she wasn’t trying to help the squirrel. She heard him and mommy fighting. She heard her dad’s slurred words and most importantly she remembered what her mom told her when she asked what was wrong with Daddy. Why daddy didn’t stay long and why he was always sad now.

Her dad’s heart was broken. So she had to find him a new one.

#rick and morty #abcs of beth #animal abuse #gore #young!rick #young!beth #the path to froopy land #fanfic

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theoneandonlyowengrady · 7 years

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Yondu’s Daughter

// Peter’s Lover

Peter Quill x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: The reader is Yondu’s daughter, who also happens to be in love with Peter Quill. One day, in a surge of love for the man, the reader ended up in a bit of a situation. Instead of coming clean about it, she decides to hide it as long as she can. Also !! I’ve included gifs as the story goes on, just to make it more story-book-esque. Tell me if you like it !!

To be a ravager was to be everything your father honored, everything the love of your life cherished, and everything you believed was right in the universe. To be free. Free of obligation, free of ties binding you to people and places, free of tyranny and government. You believed in these ideals since you were a child, watching as your father picked up another small child to bring to the planet-man.

But that kid- Peter, he said he was called- was different. You had always been friends growing up, which Yondu appreciated to some extent, and had, somewhere along the way, mixed up the border between friendship and love in your teenage years. You thought back on the time fondly, remembering his little stubble, his cocky, naive outlook on life that screamed wonderful to you. and he was beautiful. Always, he was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen.

Your father would not have approved of the relationship. Not like he would be able to do anything about it, but the man was important to you. So after your first night with Quill, you got up early, cleaned yourself up, and prompt pretended the entire thing was just a phase the both of you were going through. You put on a grumpy smile and dressed in your usual dirty mop, and Yondu did not suspect a thing.

The months had gone by slowly, the sneaking around becoming more of a chore than a fun game of hide-and-seek. Peter didn’t understand why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, and with his jaw clenched and eyes wet, he yelled.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He asked, muscles clenched. It almost scared you.

“Never,” you hissed, dropping your head to your hands, fuming, “it’s just, I’m his daughter, and he basically raised you, he’d never-”

“He wouldn’t care!” Peter struggled, grabbing you by your arms and staring into your eyes, hurt raging behind his skull.

“Of course he would, I’m just not ready-”

“You try to make him seem like this greta, typical father guy, but he isn’t! He’s a jerk, and-”

“-a jerk who saved your hopeless human life and knows that he raised you to be a jerk just like him!” You yelled, shoving him away from you. Your hands began to tremble as the bitter melting of heartbreak began to crack within your chest.

He stared forward dumbly for a minute before he turned and left. You decided that meant it was all over for now. So you went to sleep crying, your nose stuffed and head throbbing by the time peace finally claimed you for a few precious hours.

The words echoed in your head as your dreams and nightmares took you hostage in the night. Ashamed. Daughter. Father. Jerk.

A few weeks later, alone again as you had slowly began to prefer, you noticed things begin to change. With you. With your body. You pushed off the signs for another few weeks, taking random odd jobs smuggling and stealing until finally some people started to whisper. Their stares nearly drove you out of your mind.

Luckily, you wouldn’t be visiting your father anytime soon, which gave you time to think.

Silently in the night you took a small ship from the port where you had been parked, your mind running wild. Knowing the truth- however much you hated the thought- you knew you had to find Peter, and you also knew that that was not an easy task.

You wandered around to Knowhere, scanning the area for his ship, leg shaking beneath you.

“Come on, Peter...” you muttered, gnawing on your lower lip.

Days went by, and not a sign of the man showed up. Anywhere. You figured the only person who might have a shot at knowing was your dad, but then again, he would notice such a drastic change very quickly. And then there would be two people hunting down Peter Quill.

A few more months. You found a small place to settle down for a little while as you tried to cope with your situation. You had whispers that Starlord AKA Peter Quill was getting into some trouble with some infinity stones, and after asking about what on earth those were, you began to worry.

What if you never figured out what to do? You had a kid, a kid with no dad, a kid with no granddad, with a ravager mom... You wanted a different kind of life for a child, you always have, even though you never intended on being pregnant. You and Peter both grew up that way, and, well, look at the mess-

You fell back on your bed, hair sprawling around you, the little bump on your belly just barely visible in your line of sight.

Look at this mess, you thought, shoving a pillow under your neck, I need help, somebody’s help.

You weighed the options in your mind. Your father would be angry- so angry, and you wouldn’t be able to stop his rage. At Peter for leaving, at you for keeping such a secret from him. And Peter- well, maybe Peter was over your little fight. Then again, maybe he was with another girl... The thought made you want to throw up. Your eyes welled with warm, biting tears, and you covered your face with your arms.

Flying around alone was scary sometimes. You never knew what trouble you’d get into, what kind of people you’d meet. Yet somehow you built put he courage each time you saw somebody new to ask about Peter. Apparently he was running around with a new little gang, a little raccoon and tree-thing that was surprisingly cute. A very big man who never wore a shirt.

And a girl. A girl who some claimed he risked his life for.

The thought warmed your heart and froze your should simultaneously. You thanked ever stranger kindly and continued on your journey, though everyday you’d find a reason to cry more and more.

One day, after waking up and putting on a brave face, you wandered into a place you hadn’t checked before. Some people had directed you in that general direction, though you hadn’t dared go too far away from where you were comfortable. You didn’t have that much longer to go into the pregnancy, and you couldn’t do this all by yourself, so you went on in the hopes that maybe luck would be on your side.

And what would you know? A little ways away was a small little ship, orange and faded against the backdrop of the universe. A shiver went up your spine and landed at your heart, squeezing it until your blood was about to burst with adrenaline. You got as close as you could, slowly easing your way towards him. He made no effort to move.

The phone on the ship began to ring, which startled you, because usually you’d be the one doing the calling. With shaking hands you answered, and up on a small screen appeared Peter’s face. Recognition flashed across his eyes like a glint of light, and suddenly his annoyed expression softened.

Without much thought, you placed your hand on the screen over his face, choking back tears. The kind of tears that were just wet all over. That didn’t stop for anything. You covered your moth with your free hand and let out a muffled, cracking sob.

“I found you,” you said.

He opened his mouth, eyes set with a deep sadness and jaw locked tight.

“Peter?” Someone asked, entering the picture, “who’s this?”

It was a girl, with velvety green skin and dark, long hair. You held your breath, hiding your hurt behind the hand that was pressed over your mouth.

“She’s, uh...” Peter scrambled, breaking his watch on you and looking down, “somebody that I grew up with...”

“Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “I’m Gamora.”

You lowered your hand and forced up a polite smile, the corners of your lips twitching in protest. “Hello. I’m Y/N.”

Peter glanced at Gamora and then back at you. Your heart shattered and trickled down into your stomach. You could feel the acids chewing away at everything that could ever love.

“Peter, I... I wouldn’t have come, but I’ve been looking for you... There’s something-” you paused, taking in a sharp, heavy breath. “There’s something I think you should know.”

Gamora threw Peter a look and punched his shoulder, walking away with her head shaking.

“What is it?” He asked, swallowing.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, his stubble, the way his eyes moved, examining your own... You felt a tear fall from your eye and land on the console in front of you.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You looked down, one hand placed carefully buy firmly over the bump in your stomach. You could leave now, you thought, and just not ever make him have to worry about it. You weren’t sure which he would want. You never talked about kids. He had never known his dad, but you weren’t sure he was that sentimental about this sort of thing. You wished he could be. But reality took you by the hand and said he probably wasn’t. I mean, he was raised by ravagers.

Then again, so were you.

“I have something to show you,” you said softly, “I don’t want you to be afraid or feel... Well, I need you, Peter. For better or for worse we were something, and I need you again, for one second. Just one second. And if you’re going to walk out of my life forever after that, then fine. I guess I’ll just learn another lesson.”

He stared into the screen, lips just barely parted, the kind of thing he does when he's thinking and he's sad and doesn’t know what to say. After a moment, he nodded, and the video died. You were left sitting there, alone, suddenly engulfed in the loudest silence you had ever heard in your life.

A few minutes went by before Peter was on your small, messy ship. You had yourself wrapped up in a blanket, covered from shoulders down, and you were sitting on a small chair, your face red and shaded under the dim flickering light.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He asked as soon as soon as he was free from his mask, making his way towards you. “Are you sick?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, slowly rising as though your lips were struck by some sort of magnetic connection. His eyes remained glued to your face, eyes swollen and puffy from crying for so, so long.

“Peter... I’m so, so sorry. I thought I would be alone. You don’t understand what a relief this is to me...” You whispered, looking away form him now, “but i understand, I really do, if you can’t... If you can’t help me-”

He took your shoulders in his hands and forced a smile on his face. “Of course I’ll help you. What do you need? Anything.”

You looked down at the blanket draped over your large belly. “I know you probably don’t love me anymore, but I’m hoping you can love it.”

He looked at you for a moment, confused.

The blanket fell to the floor with a light, airy tap. You were clothed, though the bump was obvious. Fighting the urge to wrap your arms around your lower body and sit or turn away from him, you stood there, feeling his stare pierce you.

At first, he did not look down. the first sign that something with him had changed. Whether it be him or his feelings for you, it didn’t matter now. You were doing what you needed to do. After a moment of eye contact and heavy breathing, eyes filled with a stinging salty glaze, he glanced down at the rest of your body, his lips pink as his eyes began to water like yours.

“Y/N?” He asked, stricken, numb.

You took a step towards him, but he tensed. “Peter, I’ve been looking for you for months. This is yours...” You tried, tried so desperately to make it easy. He wouldn’t move towards you.

“I can’t do this-” he said, his voice skipping and dropping a few octaves, “a dad- I can’t be a dad-”

You moved another step closer to him, and this time he remained still.

“You don’t have to stay with me. But this is real, this is happening, and I need help, at least for a little while...”

He reached a hand out and placed it on your cheek. It felt different. More rough, calloused. But still warm. You let your head melt away under his touch, and your eyes closed.

Because your eyes were closed, you didn’t see the sad smile that his lips pressed up into, the flash of that old rekindled love in his eyes. Once yours reopened, it was gone.

“Have you told Yondu?” Peter asked, lowering his hand and glancing down at your belly again.

“No, I was trying to find you first. He would... I don’t think he would be happy if any man left me like this, especially you, Peter.”

He glanced down once again, his posture weakening. His body shifted to face you more dead-on, and his hand twitched up.

“You can touch it, Peter,” you whispered, moving slightly closer still.

He looked up at you quickly, but promptly put a hand on your stomach, his eyes red and fingers shaking.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He asked, his voice cracking, cheeks the warmest shade of red you had ever seen. A tear fell from his eye, bouncing off his cheek and dripping to his chin.

“Yes,” you said, suddenly stuffed up. You stepped into him one last time, your hands reaching up to hold his neck, your fingers scratching his hairline. “You’re a dad, already, Peter. And I’m a mom. We can be everything for this baby that we never had.”

He put his other hand on your stomach, and it felt as though he was holding you together. Once again that smiled played on his lips, that love danced in his blue eyes shimmering in the faint light.

“I never stopped loving you, Peter,” you said, breaking. Tears rained from your eyes like a storm, wetting your lips and your neck.

He raised his hand to wipe your tears, and brought your head in to his. He pressed his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arms gently around you and pulled you in close. Suddenly the universe made sense again.

Suddenly everything was going to be alright.

You had both agreed to tell Yondu together. Announcing it might be the hardest thing you’d ever have to do. Peter put his coat around you and you held it closed, loosely, over your bump, which was growing too larger to hide.

He had one hand on the small of your back as you walked towards your father. Some stared, some rolled their eyes, some welcomed you both back, but most didn’t take any notice.

“Dad,” you said, forcing a playful smile onto your face, “we’re home.”

He looked up, taking in the both of you standing before him. He looked between you to, at the faintest little gap between your bodies. He stood straight, forcing a smile to his lips. “Hey, darlin’. What’s going on here?”

You sniffed, glancing up at Peter who gave you a sure nod, his hand rubbing your back, right along your spine.

“Dad, Peter and I have been seeing each other for a long time now. I love him.”

He raised his eyebrows, his lips falling apart from each other. He looked to you and then to Peter. And then his face softened.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I thought you’d be angry-” you tried, stepping forward to hug him. The coat came open, parting for your stomach.

Yondu stepped back, taking in your new form. He looked to Peter again, his face twisting into something... confused. Almost betrayed, almost... Almost like he didn’t know what to say or feel.

“Dad,” you said, lips shaking, “everything is okay. I’ve wanted to come home and tell you, really, but I had to find Peter first-”

“You mean to tell me,” he said, ignoring you and stepping towards Peter, “that while we were out there fighting, while you were running around with that green chick, you and my daughter were gonna have a baby?”

Peter stiffened himself, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t know.”

Yondu grabbed him and put him to the wall, spit flying from his lips as he spoke. “You didn’t know? What happened, then? You left her? You left her, alone, with a child?”

Peter’s eyes began to water, and he pushed Yondu back. “I didn’t know.”

Yondu stared at him, lost, and turn to you. “You’re having a baby.” He said.

You nodded, moving yourself carefully between them. “Yes, dad, and I’m okay. Everything is okay.”

He looked to Peter once again, and then fell back into a chair, his body deflating with a frustrated sigh. He shook his head. “My kids having a kid,” he muttered, “with the boy I saved.”

You tried to force up a smile. But soon, Yondu began to laugh. You glanced at Peter, who was just as confused as you were.

“My kid,” he said, giddy, “man am I glad I didn’t bring you to your dad, boy.”

Peter put his hand back on your back, and Yondu smiled a little bit.

“Tell, Y/N, are you happy?”

You looked up at Peter, one hand finding your belly.

“Yeah,” you said, “I am.”

A little while later, you gave birth to a little boy with a full head of light-colored hair. He was a strong kid. He cried a lot, like to eat, loved to be held. Peter cried when he held him for the first time. Yondu laughed and gave him a hardy slap on the shoulder.

“Are you staying, Peter?” You asked one night, the baby fast asleep on your chest and Peter laying beside you.

He looked over at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I think I just might,” he whispered, sitting up and placing a kiss on the boy’s head before doing the same to you.

“I never thought I could love something so weird looking so much.”

You laughed.

“I knew I could. I love you, don’t I?” You giggled, straining your neck to kiss him, right on his lips.

He sank into it, still smiling. “I am pretty weird, aren’t I?”

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