#I’m literally like a feral dog in heat for this man right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukunas-wife · 4 months

Note

Ryoumen “i want a second son” Sukuna except he gets a feral little princess who matches his energy and is not above taking big bites of dad and only yuuji-nii can control her sksks

Eegehehe- warning- I suck at writing for girls actually😭 I’ve never had a younger sister or niece 🥹 my female cousins are literally non existent also,

The doctor became nervous after your newborn started crying. The maids made quick work of taking care of everything and handing you your child already bundled up. Sukuna was just as confused before he took his child from you, carefully unfolding the blanket.

The room was silent, everyone turning to Sukuna, for a brief second your aching muscles were numb that you didn’t feel after birth. You were nervous, what happened, why didn’t anyone say anything? Sukuna held the child with two large hands supporting it, using his other two hands to carefully pull back the blanket. He didn’t lift his head, but you watched his mouth gape slightly like he wanted to say something. He turned his head slightly, settling on just looking at you through the corner of his eyes. It was a low rasp “she’s a girl,” he cleared his throat wrapping her back up. Without a doubt it was his, his pink hair, she had even taken to his red eyes like Yuji had. His fixed stare didn’t show it but he was concerned for her, even if he had wanted a second son, “Lord Sukuna we co-No.” he turned to Uraume, “It’s my child regardless if it’s a boy or not. She stays here.” He leaned back, handing you your daughter.

After everyone had cleared the room you were breastfeeding your child. Sukuna sat with arms crossed, eyes closed and his head resting back against the wall. You were staring down at your little girl and you realised, “You didn’t want a daughter because it’s going to force you to settle down.” You were grinning like a fool when you turned to look at Sukuna, he grunted not opening an eye or looking at you. “I’d be a fool to let anything happen to my daughter.”

You hummed, “If she’s anything like you I’m sure she can handle her own like Yuji when she’s older.” Sukuna opened an eye looking at you, “Anya..” you turned to look at him. “Her name is Anya.” There was no room to argue with him on that. He stood up, “I’ll bring Yuji.”

He left the room before you mocked him “oouu I’m Sukuna I’m gonna protect my daughter I’m a big bad tough guy.” You scoffed to yourself, “He doesn’t realise he’ll never hurt another child again Anya.” Leaning down you kissed her little head, and she barely opened her eyes.

—————

“hehehe” Sukuna was sitting on his throne head resting on his fist, eyes closed. You left a while ago to do something he already forgot about. Yuji wanted to go with you but Anya held him back, Anyways was an anomaly. She had no cursed energy or presence. Yet she still had the power to read minds, it was something that baffled Sukuna.

He learned she had that power at the worst time, when you were all gathered eating breakfast. When he thought about getting a collar. Anya just jumped excited “are we getting a dog like the one’s old man sells in town?!” Everyone looked concerned at Anya and she pointed at your husband with a bright smile, “Papa was thinking about buying a collar!” You looked at Sukuna “When did you- Right now! He was thinking about looking for a collar and a really good one so it doesn’t slip up or come loose.” It was the heat on your cheeks when you realised what collar he meant, but you were more concerned when you thought he was actually saying these things out loud in front of Anya.

Sukuna was looking away trying to clear his throat, ‘What the hell is this brat on about? I didn't say that shit out loud… did I?’

“OOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!” Anya covered her mouth with her hands and she turned to you, your mind was drawing a blank ‘…what..what’s going on…”

Yuji was spaced out shovelling food into his face before he looked over, “Anya sit down don’t stand on the chair.” She listened to his not so demanding verse and sat down, “okay Yuji-nii.” She plopped down in her chair before perking up, “Are we getting a dog?”

Sukuna cleared his throat again looked right at her, if his hunch was right, ‘No, we’re not bringing some mangy mutt into the house’

Anya deflated and rested her chin on the table pouting, “why not?” ‘Because I said so.’ “Then why’d you say?” ‘Because I’m the owner of this house I decide what goes and comes.’ Anya sighed, getting teary eyed, trying her best to plead silently the way Yuji had taught her. Yuji snickered and he turned to you, you were sitting down whispering and asking Yuji if he knew what was going on. He explained to you that he figured out Anya could read minds not too long ago when she kept beating him in stone, parchment, shears, (please I’m sorry😭), hide and seek, and their little treasure hunting games. What he didn’t tell you was he also used her to out scam the guy who shuffles a gold token and bets money you’ll never find it.

It explained to you why Sukuna was just giving her looks and she was vocally responding.. it left you to worry how many of your thoughts she had actually heard. 😭

On a side note- here are some cannon events in the process of Anya growing up 😭😭

As a baby she was menace 🥺 she liked biting/trying to chew her dads fingers when he’d poke her cheeks. Not a cute nibble either, she’d dive in predicting the “If you eat his finger you’ll get stronger”

When she took hold of his finger the first time he was in love. That was his daughter and she meant the world to him. Then she dug her nails hard into his skin making him wince and immediately clip her nails. But when you don’t clip her nails because you're scared you’ll hurt her he always ends up with a scratched chest and hands when she’d try to take hold of something. She’s the reason he started wearing shirts even if they were uncomfortable on his massive arms 😔

Was kinda glad she didn’t sleep in the bed with both of you. She loved sleeping on his chest and Sukuna did also. But only allowed it when he could put those baby gloves on her.

After hitting age one she loved messing with Yuji and Sukuna while they were sleeping. You continuously went after her picking her up with your hand sunder her arms. She’s let out her baby screams and wiggle her body you could hear your husband’s attitude, “unhand me mother! I crave chaos! Ahahahsgsghshss!”

The older she got the more both of you learned the way Yuji admired his dad but was a total mama’s boy? It was almost the same case. Except she admired her dad.. and was a daddy girl. Yes she loved you and thought the world of you, but daddy’s so cool because he has so many cool powers! 🥺

It didn’t matter if she was sleeping in your arms, she was laughing and having the best time with you. If she even felt or heard the slightest sound, meaning Ryomen was in the room, she would scream and cry for him to pick her and take her with him. The same case as Baby Yu, you were jealous Ryo got all the attention and baby love even if they were attached to your chest most of the time.

Speaking of jealous, Yuji was the most jealous little 10 year old boy 🥹 “MY DADDY!” He’d carry Anya back to you so he could sit in HIS dads lap. Sukuna found it amusing and more often than not bullied Yuji. Which actually led to your funny little schedule where when Anya was briefly awake Yuji would be glued to your side. When Anya was asleep Yuji would run and stick to his dads side.

Sukuna has a permanent dent in his side boob where 2yo old Anya crawled over to him on your bed and then latched on, i don’t mean milk- i mean she saw a mound of flesh and went ‘nom’ He grunted and it took everything in him to not swat her instantly. He sat up after pulling her away. She was dangling by her feet clapping her hands and laughing, Sukuna was pressing his hand to his chest helping himself and cursing because no way he really let this brat catch him off guard and mess him up 😭

Which is also when it hits him, she has no presence because she has no cursed energy. He was disappointed but relieved she’d never have a reason to be caught in trouble 🥹

Here’s a little montage of moments 🥹

An invisible child means invisible crimes. Sure, Ryomen could actively tell where she was. But it’s his child he could let his guard down and close his eyes to think about the things he had to do. Breathing became slower the more he started to relax almost to napping completely.

1…2…3…4… “YUJIII NIII I GOT THE THING”

Kamutoke… she took the Kamutoke

Sukuna was going to get up and chase after her but she tripped and face planted into the shiny floors Sukuna had to pick her up and wipe off her tears and snot while telling Uraume to put up his tool because there was no doubt in his mind Yuji or Anya would kill the other with it by mistake

Anya loves her parents, but when Sukuna is thinking Sinister thoughts she runs to Yuji.

Ex. The four of you went out into the city, Anya was riding on her dad’s shoulders the way Yuji used to. She was patting away on his head when she heard the thought, “I should kill that man, I’ll start by slowly gutting him a- wwaahhhhh” followed by squirming and Anya basically jumping over knocking down Yuji. When you asked her what was wrong she said “…nothing… papa is kinda scary.”

Yuji had to piggy back her the rest of the day when she didn’t feel like walking but she sang her cute little “Family ooting” song

This is both Yuji and Anya when daddy’s home ,

(I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing for girls 😭 I don’t have a niece to spoil or interact with, I’ll have to steal my friend and her little sister next time and play with her 🥹 I’ll do better for next one i promise 😤)

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

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emlovslennon · 1 month

Text

anotha one because holy fuck this man makes me feral.

era: 1968-early ‘69

John has been inside our bedroom for at least 2 hours, practicing the same song over and over again. The only song he actually cares about, that is. John has about completely given up on the band, but he at least there’s some energy. One thing to know about John, however, is that he HATES being interrupted. Even by his wife. But, you’ve been craving his touch for weeks, he’s hardly paid any mind, so why not take a risk?

Once you mustered up the courage, and by mustering up you put on a short, skimpy, night gown John had bought you for your second wedding anniversary and some black, see through tights. You slowly, but surely walked up to the door. It took you a good thirty seconds to actually open the door. John didn’t even look at you when you opened the door, to see you standing by the doorway barely covered.

“Johnny, please, it’s been forever. I want you.” You whimpered, too scared to be too loud.

“Y/n… What have I told you at least a thousand times? I’m working, not the time.” John warns, looking back at me. You could see on his face that a blush appeared, he bit his lip, staring you down his down like a predator finding it’s prey.

“But please, John. I promise just one time and you can go back to-“ you was quickly cut off by John nearly slamming his guitar to the ground and getting off of your shared bed to come up and grab you by the chin.

“You just don’t like listening, do you? Been a lot more bitchy lately cuz I haven’t been bedding you. Now you’re just gonna have to take whatever I fucking give you. Do you hear me, girl?” John reprimanded. You felt the heat between your legs beginning to drool and throb. This was gonna be rough, but it’s something.

John grabbed you and threw you onto the bed, you could hear the ruffling of clothes as John unbuckled his belt and undid his purple button up.

“Hands and knees. Now.” John growled, his voice was low and domineering. You actually felt, afraid in way. But it just turned you on. You never saw John like this, and you couldn’t help but like it. You instantly got up on your hands and knees, your head resting against the plush pillow underneath you. He ripped your tights down to your thighs, exposing your bottom half to him.

“You do not understand the amount of stress I’m under right now. The last thing I need is my ever so loving wife to act like a fucking dog in heat.” Johns voice got louder. Without warning, John smacked his belt against your lower half, causing you to cry out.

“John, please. ‘M wanna help you.” You murmured. John looked at you, amazed. You would really do anything for him if it means you got stuffed full of his cock, or if it made him feel better. He really won the jackpot by finding you.

“You wanna help me, baby? Well, I suppose you can. But I’m warning you now, I’m not going easy on ye. So if you need to smack me or tell to me to stop, please do.” He said, quite softly. The softness didn’t last long however, he brought he belt back to your ass again. Your cunt was glistening, wetness pooling down your thighs, aching for him.

“Holy fuck, you like this, y/n? You like how I’m marking your little ass? Huh? Your cunts crying for me.” John chuckled. You put this man in pure disbelief. You make it so hard for him to stay mad at you.

After about six more lashes from his belt, your ass was completely red and bruised. There was definitely gonna be a mark or two (or three) in the morning. Your thighs were shaking, you could feel tears wanting to escape your eyes, but you loved it. Honestly, this was so much better than just regular love making. John took his cock out of his boxers and teased you with it. You were so drenched that your wetness was pooling onto the bedsheets below. Johns mouth literally felt like watering. You were fighting the urge to grind back on him, trying to get him to go inside.

“Almost forgot, baby. Need to stretch ya out.” John mumbled under his breath. He put two fingers into your drooling cunt without warning. Your sighs turned into cries as he scissored you fast and quick. Your heart was pounding, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The pleasure was unbearable.

“Fuck, such a good little girl, you are. Taking everything I give you. My obedient little whore. I fucking love it.” John praised. The praises made you moan louder, the squelching noises from your cunt more than audible.

“John, fuck, please, please.” You begged. Your voice pathetically hoarse from your cries.

“Gonna need more convincing than that. That’s pathetic.” John said. You cried out again when his fingers continually hit your sweet spot.

“John please fuck me. I need you so badly, I’ll be so good please. ‘M so wet for you.” You begged. God, it was dirty, so pathetic. But oh my god. You loved it so much. John almost burst when he heard you beg. He swore it was the hottest thing he had ever heard in his life. John spent no time thrusting his whole length inside you. Giving you no time to adjust.

You screamed at the intrusion. John pounded you like it was last fuck on earth. All the stress from the rehearsals and the rocky friendship with Paul gone away. All he could think about was making his good girl cum. (And himself, duh). You were so, so good to him.

“Yeah, that feel good, sweet girl? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Lemme hear how good I fuck you.” John demanded. If you weren’t already screaming the house down, you sure as hell were now. Johns cock hit all the right places inside you. But, fuck. He was relentless.

“J-john, s-slow down!” You yelled out. John slapped your ass in response, causing you to cry out.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can. Come on, fucking take it.” John grunted. You turned to look at him. He looked fucking mesmerizing. Sweat was all down his chest and all over his face, his long hair stuck to his forehead and messy. He was biting his lip and he gotten rid of his glasses. He looked like a god.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer to your sweet release. John caught you staring and gave you a smirk and playful slap to your ass, causing you to gasp. You attempted to look away but John grabbed you once again and flipped you over, so you were underneath him. He pulled you down and pinned your arms above your head, and continued to pound into you. Your thighs and poor cunt started to get sore from the rough treatment, but you can’t say you were complaining in the slightest.

“J-john, I-I-“ you panted. You couldn’t even properly form words anymore. John was fucking you way too good, to the point of being brainless.

“Aw, can’t speak, baby? Is Johnny fucking you too good? Huh? Wanna cum? My angel wants to cum?” John cooed. His hand caressing your cheek as he kissed your forehead. Even if this started because he undeniably pissed, he still couldn’t help but fawn over his beautiful girl. All his.

All you could do was nod. John was thinking about teasing you a bit more and edging you, but you’ve done way too good for him. It just wouldn’t be fair.

“Come on, y/n. Cum for me. Fuck.” John moaned. The squelching sound from your cunt intensified, and you felt an even more overpowering feeling than just a “regular” orgasm. Your weak cries turned into screams as you squirted all onto Johns cock and bedsheets. John stopped his thrusting and watched. Not only was he shocked, he was internally proud of himself.

“What a good fucking girl. Look at that.” John whispered in awe. You were trembling and had tears running down your face, your mascara was staining your cheeks. It pulled at Johns heartstrings. He felt awful now.

“Y/n…Are you okay? Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll clean you up.” Before he could get up and grab a towel, you quickly grabbed his arm.

“No, need you to cum in me. Please. ‘M wanna make you feel good.” You begged weakly. John was taken aback, but smirked as he pinned back to the bed, his hand lightly grasping your neck as he began to pound himself inside you again. You ached as you felt so overstimulated, but you wanted him to get his release. He deserved one too.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum. Just wait a little longer baby.” He grunted. His grunts becoming louder and his pants increasing. He was fucking hot. John let out a strangled moan as he filled you up to the brim. He slowly let his weight fall on top of you. His hair fell to each side of your face.

“T-thank you.” You whisper to him. John looks up, smiling sweetly. He slowly pulls out of you and looks at his cum dripping from your abused cunt.

“Honey, really. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. You’re so precious to me. I hope you know that.” John said with genuine sympathy. You grasped his hand and nuzzled into his chest.

“No, please. Let’s do that more often.”

Needless to say, John took note of that.

Needless to say, i let out some steam and some sexual frustration in this so uhm enjoy HAHSHS.

#classic rock #classic rock imagines #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #the beatles #the beatles x reader #60s #john lennon x reader #john lennon smut

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biffhofosho · 2 years

Note

MY TIME HAS COME HI I AM BACK and this time I TRIPLE CHECKED FOR TYPOS IN THIS MF!!!!! I guess I don’t have to tell you how excited I am to finally read this. The paragraph with the vibe ALONE has me howling, literally since I am home alone.

The idea of the big bad werewolf having a small fluffy, yappy dog sends me

I love that mysterious neighbour vibe, I do. I mean everything was fine till HE WAS BITTEN!!!!! Hahaha

I Mean I grew up in Mexico, damn dogs bark every night, all night, I never noticed until my husband complained to me about it. If it’s often enough you’ll tune it out, but yeah, every month? You gotta notice that

Also high five for mentioning mesoamerican anthropology, lol

I love the way you describe the houses and the general ambiance of the neighbourhood,

Agan, had this been in Mexico, you would have neighbours and people knocking on your door because, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages? Is everything ok? Do you need anything?

Oh wow, “a helping hand” comes into action. Wink wonk

“Flashes of chains, of white-knuckled hands on wrists and waists, of tits furiously bouncing and cock wickedly hammering between shaking thighs, flooded her mind along with the dopamine” GOOD LORDT YES

Also thanks for not using the phrase “Ruined underwear” to talk about some wetness on your knickers.

“Kat couldn’t shake it from her mind. He was living in there, somewhere deep in the shadows of her most primitive self, possessing her, and he didn’t even have the dignity to be real.” I FUCKING LOVE THIS

Magic, Witchcraft, and the Supernatural Body anthro course. SIGN ME UP!!! Ohhhhh sexy neighbour, and he’s angry, yes

Give me one more. I know you can, baby. Good girl. OF COURSE IT WAS HIS VOICE.

I want nothing in life except Yoo Kihyun calling me his good girl.

Wow her note is so passive aggressive, I love it

“You’re welcome to come over any time you want and try.” CHALLENGE OR INVITATION? I SAY BOTH

KITTEN? Just like that? Not even a warning?? I normally hate pet names, but not this one and not coming from this specific man

I spoke too soon about the ruined underwear…. (they are not ruined, just wet, they will be fine. looooooll)

OMG IS SHE IN HEAT??????

The howling again!!!!!! Awwwwoooooooooooooooooo

“This one was long and warbling, like a desperate cry for attention, and it had hers instantly” I AM CHEWING ON MY HAND

For a moment I thought I might have eaten the dog, lol. I am glad he’s safe

“I had to, officer! The dogs sounded lonely?” LOL. like when you break the window of a car because there’s a dog inside in a very hot summer

OMG SHE IS IN HIS BED NO!!!! SHE IS GONNA DO IT, YES SHE IS AND THIS PROBABLY THE PART WHERE I, TOO, WILL BECOME FERAL.

OH SHE DID NOT. I am dissapoint…

But also I love how dramatic she is. That’s what goody-two-shoes always do, be dramatic and think the police will take them to jail forever

“She did not expect to see her neighbor tethered by a thick leather collar to the wall.” OK NO THIS IS WHERE I GO FERAL

“Of course it's my business. It's for me.” Lower now, in a borderline hiss, he added, “I can smell it. You’re almost ready— It’s time to—god, if you’d just let me—” i mean reading this in context, complete… just makes me grgrrgggrrgggggggg

Kihyun asking her if he came on his bed just got me doing a little dance

“There’s no time for that now. Can’t you see I’m losing the last of my control, baby? There are things it needs, like fresh meat and moonlit runs, and there are things it wants. I'm down here because of the things it wants. If it weren’t for this chain…” I AM MAKING THE MOST INCOHERENT NOISES RIGHT NOW

HIS MATE!!!!!! HIS MATE I AM….

The way he called for her! The way he is desperate but yet he commands her! The way she surrendered! I hope you know I am cursing at you right now cause it’s like you know what I like.

that part where she is howling and she notices? I MEAN KINDLY FUCK OFF!!!!!!!

The way he babbles into her neck

I am gone

Bye

Ohhh the pearly gift, that’s poetic AF

AHHH trusty friend Hyungwoo, gotta love him

OH THEY’RE A PACK I AM SO HAPPY

My memes come true!!

Also, so romantic!!! So beautiful. After the dust of lust settled, there's looove and I can’t get enough of it

“You’re not alone anymore.”

MAAAAAANNNNNN, so good!!! So fucking good!!!! I love it and I am so happy right now, of course now i am gonna go to work thinking about this, lol

and every time I read anything from you

love you sososos much

Yes, babygirl, I'm so glad you could actually read in a timely fashion before the next one drops (*coughs* this Sunday *coughs)!

Ah, see? That's very interesting about the barking dogs. This would fly totally under the radar there, but not in the American suburbs. Fuck, I'll report your nuisance dog lol. Don't fuck with my sleep! *insert "ain't nobody got time for that" gif*

Maybe--just maybe--I slipped that Mesoamerican thing in there for my good friend. ;)

Hahahaha, yeah, Americans go their entire lives living next door to the same people and have no fucking clue what their names are because we *care* about each other... >.>

LOL

"didn't even have the dignity to be real" -- I may or may not have been targeting myself with this line. <.<

I love that we want the same things in life loooooooool.

Gee, I know nothing about being passive aggressive at all............... 100%, I would have written that note.

Girl, bye, "ruined for the day" is unnecessarily wordy, and if you gotta spend the whole day in them, yeah, that shit also ruins your day lol... Not that I would know anything about such things................................................

You almost ate the dog? Heh.

hahahahahahaha you are not the only one to be disappoint in that ;)

Yes! You get special friends-only previews, but when you see how something fits into the larger picture, it gets a bit more intense, doesn't it?

Girl, can I just say, picturing Kihyun crawling across the floor on a fucking leash made me very unstable for a while after writing it.

I am glad it made you happy, friendo. <3 This was the longest ask ever, and I loved it. Werewolf agenda achieved! So many more fun AUs to tackle still. Can't wait for you to read them all.

#gee thanks #new bestie!#best reader ever #bad dog #it's so much fun being your friend <3

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Found your tumblr acc recently and im INLOVE with it 😂. Idk if this is weird but, Can i request a fluffy imagine with nishinoya, bokuto, oikawa, and kuroo in which before practice the reader underestimates he's ability to lift stuff (calling him weak and other stuff) then out of nowhere, he lifts the reader to prove how strong he is and the other volleyball members there are like "... B r u h" lmao

c u t e

Warning(s); cursing

Underestimating Their Ability to Lift Things and Getting Lifted in the Process (Nishinoya, Bokuto, Oikawa, and Kuroo) -headcannons-

----------------------------------------------

Nishinoya

- come on you know better

- is the hardest simp for you, but you always say no because you really can’t take him seriously with the way he fawns over girls

- so surprise surprise when he literally almost cries in joy when you pop your head into the volleyball gym with a stack of chairs they had requested tucked under your arm

- “Need a man to help you carry those, Y/N?” all puppy dog like, omg please pet him

- “A man?” You tease, not seeing the way he had frowned while stilling in place “It’s okay, I doubt you could handle it-”

- a whole beat of silence comes from him amongst the rowdiness of the gym before his eyes shine over in competitiveness

- and you don’t notice until he’s literally holding you by the waist, lifting you up like you weigh nothing with the chairs

- grins widely up at you, blinking as if nothing were the matter as heat floods your cheeks

- he was literally holding you like a child, and you have to tighten your hold on the chairs so they don’t fucking fall

- Now the whole gym was silent: like why the hell is their libero holding up some random girl in the middle of the entrance

- “...do I need to call the police-” “Tsukki nO-”

- Asahi’s literally palming his face while Suga is covering Hinata’s and Yamaguchi’s eyes, telling them not to take notes on how to treat the girls they like

- Daichi is behind him in a second, sweatdropping and ready to catch you if Noya decides to drop you because he’s so unpredictable

- Tanaka is in the background nodding his head in approval while Kiyoko is just lightly shaking her head and thinking of a billion ways to apologize to you

- “O-okay, you can handle it!” You manage out, flushed as Noya’s grin widens, putting you down before scratching the back of his head

- “So ice cream after school?” As if he didn’t just pick you the fuck up, and your heart beats surprisingly a little quicker at the situation before you groan, spinning on your heel

- “...yes. It’s not a date though!”

- let’s just say the gasp around the gym was collective as you rushed away, Noya grinning like a madman before punching the air as Suga and Tsukishima blink in disbelief

- “That did not just work-” “I’ve suddenly seen enough today, I’d like to go home.”

Bokuto

- bold of you to assume he wouldn’t

- you’re the manager of the Fukurodani volleyball team, and you’re filling a large container with water bottles for the boys after they finish practice

- Bokuto’s your boyfriend, but still a newly-minted one that was always leaving practice to come up to you to bargain for hugs to keep him energized

- hugs are just his thing, okay?

- “Y/N can I help?! That looks heavy!” “I don’t know Bo...it seems like a bit much for you, don’t you think?”

- literally does not pick up on the teasing in your tone, and his face falls for a second before his eyes light up with an idea

- so imagine Fukurodani’s surprise when a shriek fills the gym, and all of practice stops to see their ace had somehow managed to slip away from practicing to be the core reason of said shriek

- deadass lifts you high enough to where you’re sitting on his shoulders, legs draping over them as a hot blush fills your cheeks as he bounces on the balls of his feet, as if he were warming up

- “And now I’m gonna run-!” “Bo, nO-”

- Akaashi takes a good two seconds to pinch the bridge of his nose as Konoha cackles at the sight before them, Bokuto grabbing your thighs to keep you steady as he runs around the outer gym

- Komi and Sarukui both shake their heads in disbelief as you hold onto Bokuto for dear life

- “Konoha, get over here and help me stop him.” “Akaashi he’s your pet, you go get him.”

- only lets you down when he runs a full lap, and you blink in slight dizziness before expecting he’ll let you down-

- sike bitch you thought

- “Y/N, can you do that cute thing where you lean your head over?” “Like...this?”

- you’re still trying to get your thoughts together, and you hang your head over his upside down so your hair is draping downward, meeting Bokuto’s gold eyes from the odd angle

- kisses the tip of your nose after grinning at your obedience, and you yelp before hiding your face in your hands after straightening with a blush

- Akaashi approaches him as if he has a hostage, both hands in the air as it looks like Bokuto’s about to start running again with a dazed you atop his shoulders

- I’m dying Konoha’s filming this

- “Bokuto put her down.” “Gotta catch me first, Akaashi!”

Oikawa

- “Why are you standing in front of Y/N-chan?” “Stop whining, idiot- it’s so you don’t look at her ass while she’s helping the coach lift some of the trophies onto the shelves of the gym.”

- gasps at the accusation as you stifle a laugh from above, balanced atop stacked practice mats with Iwaizumi and Matsukawa chilling in front of you

- “Y/N-chan, I’m being bullied down here!” “...I don’t know, maybe they’re onto something-”

- feigns a second gasp of shock as you giggle before slightly struggling to lift a particularly heavier trophy onto the shelves

- “Need help?” he’s done joking now, frowning when he sees you wobbling from your balance as you offer him a thumbs up when you lift it, too distracted to think about the impact of your next words

- “As if you could offer me any form of help, you pampered setter.”

- I kid you not this brunette really took those words to heart despite the laughs Iwa and Mattsun gave at your words, and walked up to your balanced form to push lightly on one of the mats

- bitch the fuck

- you yelp before Oikawa catches you smoothly bridal-style, hugging one of the smaller trophies to your chest as you blink up at him with an owlish expression as he grins down at you

- “...did..did you just push me over to prove a point-” “OI SHITTYKAWA”

- “Hang on tight, Y/N-chan, we’re going for a spin!” “A what-”

- runs away with you in his arms as Iwa and Mattsun call after you like some kind of parents as you run away with an unapproved boyfriend

- “...should we help her Kunimi?” “Nah she’s a goner, Kindaichi.”

- Hanamaki considers tripping his captain but decides against it because it would probably hurt you too as you wrap your arms around his neck to keep from falling

- “...if you really want me to get her I can tackle really well.” “Kyoutani, sit your ass down.”

- only sets you down when he makes it to the hallway conjoined with the gym, laughing at your bewildered expression as your back touches one of the lockers

- “Still think I can’t help you, Y/N-chan?” “You are so dramatic, Oikawa Tooru.”

- you shake your head before going to walk back to practiice only for his arm to stop you as he pouts down at you, leaning down as the pout contorts to a smirk

- “And what if I said I just wanted to get you and your pretty face alone?”

Kuroo

- “Kuroo stop flirting with our manager, you have to share!” “She’s my girlfriend, you imbecile.”

- glares at Lev who pouts, wanting your attention as the tall boy impatiently waits to talk to you before you giggle, gently pushing your boyfriend away

- “I’m everyone’s manager babe. I need Lev’s help to lift some of the mats out of the gym.” ...why didn’t you just ask me?”

- in all honesty you didn’t really think much of asking your boyfriend for help first, thinking it wasn’t a big deal as you grin teasingly

- “Duh. Because I doubt you’d be able to carry one, babe.” “Is that right?”

- But you’re already walking away to bend down to help Lev with the mats, not seeing the glint in Kuroo’s feral eyes as he watches

- not gonna lie he was probs looking at your ass and trying not to admire it because he was trying to be annoyed

- so as you come back laughing alongside Lev he’s really annoyed now, so when you bend back down again he walks up to you and scoops you up from behind, flinging you over his shoulder like a rag doll possessively

- “Tetsurou, what-?!” “Team meeting!”

- And I kid you not Kuroo leads this team meeting in the most casual-manner with you slung over his shoulder, Kenma sighing because he feels bad for you as if it were a test of trust, daring anyone to look at what was his

- “Hey Kuroo? You’ve got a little something...” “Where, Yaku?”

- “...oh nevermind, just a fly.” “YAKU MORISUKE-”

- grins as he ignores you hitting him on the back, and when the meeting’s over he doesn’t put you down as he hums, lifting three of the mats with one hand

- “...I get it. You can lift things. Put me down now.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

- Lev is lowkey jealous while Yamamoto gapes at the cuteness of you two as you kiss the top of Kuroo’s head with a pout, trying to bargain you’re way down as Kuroo simply ignores you

- “They’re an odd couple.” “If I said what she did, it would probably be me- he’s just insane.”

- “KENMA I HEARD THAT.” “Says the guy with his girlfriend slung forcibly over his shoulder.”

-------------------------------------

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye@dreebbles @yams046 @aprettyfruit @therestless101 @dai-tsukki-desu @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast@wisepandaslimeland @deadontheinsidebut @lmkjimin@h0ngh0ngh0ng @theworldupthere @itz-tooru @orangegiraffe7@let-me-have-my-own-name

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alltheglowingeyess · 3 years

Text

Sapnap and Tubbo friendship HCs

sapnap and tubbo friendship hc’s because i’m living my best life ig (most of this won’t be anywhere near canon fhdkjjhfd but i have brainrot and Can Not Write the fic i wanted to based on it):

(shout out to @blueblackslowtown for setting my brain off on this topic fjhdhd!)

- tubbo and sapnap end up reconnecting after dream has been locked away and all that jazz

- tubbo decided to kind of scope out kinoko kingdom after he learns foolish was working on building the place up (kind of similar to him keeping an eye on las nevadas at first)

- because karl is off on his time traveling stuff and george is kind of floating through life at the time (i rly like the hc/idea that george, after everything w lore man, just thinks everything around him is completely fake or a dream, so he’s completely spacey just all the time), sapnap spends most of his time overseeing construction and building up supplies to defend kinoko kingdom

- but anyways, tubbo kind of follows foolish when he goes to work on kinoko kingdom and is just lurking around the edges of the kingdom

- basically, sapnap set up some traps around the edges because he’s bored and kind of paranoid of people coming at kinoko kingdom, and tubbo ahaha just. steps in a trap

- i’m thinking like one of them traps where the rope catches your leg and you’re just upside down

- so it’s just fuming gremlin tubbo upside down furiously trying to figure out how to wriggle away

- and sapnap eventually finds him just. like a bat chilling there because he gave up

- sapnap immediately let’s him down because he’s like “oh it’s tubbo hello” and tubbo just jumps at him the moment he’s down like a feral cat or something

- the two kind of scrap for a bit until foolish comes by and he’s like “hi can i get paid” and they sort of give it up long enough for sapnap to pay foolish and send him on his way

- sapnap asks to talk or at least get tubbo patched up + some food, but really he’s just lonely because kinoko kingdom is so pretty at night but it feels so much emptier when it’s just him and he wants friend :(

- tubbo reluctantly goes with him and the two actually end up chilling after like,,, 30 minutes of just silent tension ig?? and they end up staying up nearly the entire night just talking

- tubbo obviously doesn’t 100% trust him right there because mans took his first canon life, but he at least forgives him and let’s him know that he’s willing to let sapnap prove himself as a good guy now

- the two end up seeing each other more often because sapnap is really lonely in kinoko kingdom (tubbo is too because ranboo is away half of the time, but he’s not ready to let sapnap meet michael yet so he pays foolish extra some days to watch him for a few hours with foolish jr., the mvp of the server)

- finally, after like a few months, tubbo invites sapnap to snowchester to meet michael and have lunch and stuff

- karl is home for a bit and like,,, styles sapnap’s hair and reassures him it will all be ok because man’s is so nervous; this is his chance :0

- problem arises: sapnap gets to snowchester and he gets so nervous his hair just. is on fire

- i really like blaze hybrid sapnap so whenever he is nervous he spontaneously combusts in some way ig, and while it’s not a problem normally, he’s ltierally surrounded by snow and oh my god he might just laser a hole through the ice gotta go fast

- ok lol but so sapnap just pulls out one of those kitchen rags and dips it in the water to put out the fire hair

- he basically shows up like knock knock with a wet rag on his head and radiating the heat of a walking lava pool fjdkhjdf

- tubbo is kind of like awww come in because he’s not too put off about it + sapnap has melted an entire path walking to the entrance or whatever jfdkhdjkf

- sapnap ends up cooling down (literally) for a bit and they are having a good time when tubbo is like “ok you can meet michael now”

- sapnap’s hair just combusts again lmao

- tubbo brings michael down and michael is just doing the creepy little kid stare at sapnap to assert dominance HJDFHJ

- and sapnap is like,,, he is notorious for killing pets, how tf does he handle a child??? so he just sticks a hand out like he’s with a dog

- tubbo is wheezing at the sight but michael actually accepts it and gently holds hand fjkdhdf

- five seconds and then he just jumps on sapnap basically screaming “warm” in his mother tongue (piglin? sorry fjkhdfkj)

- sapnap panics for a bit until tubbo gets a dictionary to translate or smth and tells him what he means, and basically the two are now nether buddies to the end

- sapnap is so warm that michael latches on to him because it reminds him of the nether

- eventually, they pry michael off sapnap and then the two play hide and seek (my favorite part of this if anyone read this far fjhdhkjd)

- sapnap tries hiding, but he just. melts all the snow around him

- so literally michael finds him in like five minutes because there is just a radius of melted snow wherever he is

- anyways sapnap is now michael’s godfather and he doesn’t take no for an answer (not that tubbo is complaining) and now michael comes to visit kinoko kingdom and he meets karl and george too and listen i just want them all to be happy y’all is that too much-

anyways that’s all i have :D if any fic writers read this pls write something up from this i would cry and tag me bc i just can’t write anything for it due to my smooth brain <3

#sapnap #michael dsmp #tubbo #ranboo #karl jacobs #mcyt foolish #dsmp #dsmp headcanon #kinoko kingdom #snowchester #sapnap and tubbo friendship #:D #glow gabs #alltheglowingeyes writes #georgenotfound #long post

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chicago-reeed · 4 years

Text

Detroit Evolution

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

#fun game: watch the film and try to guess what each of these crazy ramblings is referring to #im still reeling from all of that #I think I need to watch it again #yes that sounds like a plan #this is kind of like a review #if it were written by an emotional crackhead who got zero sleep last night #also #happy easter babes #if u celebrate it of course #what did we do to deserve this film #jfc there are still tears in my eyes #I need to watch it again asap #Detroit evolution #octopunk media #reed900

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kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Kiri, Soft Baku, Chatting

Chapter 1. No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

The routine goes as follows:

Bakugou waits for Kirishima at the front door, arms crossed and a varying degree of pissed off depending how late he's running. Kirishima complains about the train being postponed or too full or delayed in some way – which is true, damn it, it’s like the universe has doomed his train line and none other in all of Japan to be the statistical outlier in an otherwise spotless record of punctuality – and begs for forgiveness, usually by bribing Bakugou with some post-workout coffee.

It works surprisingly well. A month into this and Kirishima is about ready to join one of those conspiracy theory servers Kaminari is so fond of because Bakugou is actually pretty lenient, death threats and crackling palms aside.

(That being said, Kirishima enjoys life and living and chasing after his dreams, so he will never breathe a word about that particular observation to anyone, least of all Bakugou himself.)

They usually got the gym to themselves, the employees on the early shift always looking vaguely relieved that at least someone is making use of their opening hours. Kirishima’s never been a regular anywhere aside from perhaps the manga store a few blocks from his home, so it feels a bit special to have this implicit claim to the training area made for heat-based quirks every Saturday morning.

Bakugou snorted when Kirishima told him that, muttering what sounded like fucking nerd under his breath.

The rest is pretty straight-forward. Kirishima’s been on a daily workout schedule for a good year by this point, and it’s clear Bakugou is used to it too. They stretch, do some warm-ups (in Bakugou’s case, quite literally) and off they go.

The thing is: It’s fun. Like, really, really fun. Really loud, too, especially when Bakugou’s got his sweat on and comes at him point-blank and flashy like fireworks personified. By the first session, Kirishima already realized it’s a lost cause trying to talk during training because all Bakugou replies with is an exasperated “Hah?!” no matter what he says.

It’s not like Kirishima could’ve heard himself speak anyways, his ears always left ringing something fierce from all the close-quarter explosions. Bakugou is a stranger to the concept of holding back or taking things by half measures, that much hasn’t changed.

Elsewhere, it might’ve taken a while for Kirishima to push his quirk to the point where his skin breaks out in cracks and ridges, his arms and shoulders and hair turning unyielding and clear-cut like miniature mountains. Not here, though: Not when the choices are to put his best foot forward with every move, or have Bakugou tear his throat out for daring to waste his time. There’s something so freeing about letting loose like that – a thrill that sends Kirishima’s heart on a war path and his pulse soaring until all that’s left are his instincts and quick reflexes.

Like this, every time he gets a hit in or a blast manages to leave a mark on his body, Bakugou grins and Kirishima grins back. Like this, the bruises and lost hours of sleep pale in comparison to just how bright Bakugou’s eyes can shine.

Kirishima brushes off the last traces of carbon dust off his arms to start massaging the sore muscles there. With U.A.’s Sports Festival a mere handful of days away, both of them kept going until their quirks started to sputter.

A strange comfort, to sit in mutual exhaustion like this. It’s not even noon but Kirishima could totally go for a nap, right there on the black, fire-proof tiles. Leaning back on his hands, he hums and asks:

“So. What’s the deal with Midoriya?”

A few feet from him, Bakugou pauses in rolling his shoulders. The black tank top he’s wearing is positively plastered to his body with sweat, his track pants saved from the same fate by how bulky they are.

“What?”

Too late, it occurs to Kirishima to feel nervous. The sensation is dim against the warmth still clinging to his skin though, that minute ache that comes with becoming stone for too long. “Being around him pisses you off. What’s up with that?”

Bakugou stares at him. His expression is hard to read, firmly within the realm of his default frown. “The fuck, Shitty Hair. What’s it to you?”

Uh oh. Kirishima sits up, mostly to raise his hands in a placating gesture, palm-up. “Just curious, bro. Honest. Been wondering for a while so I thought I’d ask, y’know?”

As bold as Kirishima aims to be, lying Bakugou in the face when his gaze is sharp enough to cut a bitch would be a monumentally stupid move. Bakugou seems to come to the same conclusion, even if his scoff is plenty aggressive.

“None of your fucking business, that’s what’s up with it. Fucking… Deku, bah.”

To say the silence that follows is loaded is the understatement of the century. Kirishima chews on his tongue, about a thousand questions balancing on its tip; it’s like the Midoriya he sees is the polar opposite of the one Bakugou blows a fuse over on a regular basis, and the why behind it is kind of starting to haunt him. (It doesn’t help that everyone in 1-A treats him as some sort of expert in all things Bakugou instead of interacting with the guy directly.)

One glance at Bakugou and he swallows it all down. Only now, with any and all traces of it gone, does Kirishima realize how calm he had looked. “…Coffee?”

Bakugou picks himself off the ground and leaves without another word.

Baku 💣💥

it’s bullshit dude (sent 18:23)

u know that right? (sent 18:23)

right? (sent 18:48)

like the whole chains + muzzle thing was ass i’m still fuming (sent 19:10)

and the press can go duck themselves lol (sent 19:12)

fuck** (sent 19:12)

it’s ur right to refuse the thing if u don’t want it (sent 19:15)

idk man it just sucks (sent 19:20)

baku? (sent 19:35)

:( (sent 19:55)

i know (received 19:56)

stop blowing up my phone (received 19:57)

baku!! ❤️ (sent 19:57)

sry haha (sent 19:57)

u ok tho? (sent 20:00)

fuck off (received 20:01)

sry sry (sent 20:01)

(my moms say hi btw 💪🏻💪🏻) (sent 20:32)

((and congrats but i told em u don’t wanna hear it lmao)) (sent 20:33)

hi back (received 20:40)

💪🏻 (sent 20:42)

Lord Explosion Murder?? (Baku 💣💥 )

so like (sent 6:20)

ur hero name (sent 6:20)

? (received 6:21)

oh! morning lol (sent 6:22)

ok so. it’s a bit of a mouthful (sent 6:24)

manly! (sent 6:24)

but y’know (sent 6:24)

k (received 6:25)

what about nitro? or smth (sent 6:30)

it’s snappy and cool! like u hehe (sent 6:33)

WAIT NO (sent 6:33)

LIKE (sent 6:33)

UM (sent 6:34)

kirishima (received 6:34)

yea? (sent 6:34)

OH SHIT DID U JUST (sent 6:36)

pls don’t kill me (sent 6:36)

bro? (sent 6:40)

bakubro? (sent 6:48)

nitro? 👀 (sent 6:53)

… (sent 6:57)

at least lemme say bye to my dog man (sent 7:00)

no (received 7:00)

RIP in pieces me (sent 7:00)

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

oi dipshit (received 8:02)

?? 👀 (sent 8:02)

you owe me coffee (received 8:03)

!!! (sent 8:03)

[train_view.jpg] (sent 8:18)

omw 💪🏻 (sent 8:19)

k (received 8:19)

>>Chapter 3

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fanfiction #kiri is braver than any marine: the fic #(let's hope tumblr doesn't kill the formatting on this one)#this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff

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ragewerthers · 4 years

Text

Pond Memories

Summary: Gladio talks Ignis into being a bit rebellious and joining him for a bit of skinny dipping. However, there may be more than a handsome Shield in the waters of this unassuming pond.

A/n: This is another fun prompt for my friend @bgn846!

She asked for:'Skinny dipping -- “Something just brushed up against my leg!” '

I instantly had dialogue in my head, but I'll admit that the ending was something I hadn't planned XD

Hopefully it's not too silly an something that will get a good laugh!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596553

Enjoy, my friends! :D

Word Count: 2303

---------------------------

Ignis couldn’t believe what they had decided to do. This was ridiculous, juvenile, possibly a bit unsanitary and… thrilling.

“Come on, Iggy, there’s nothin’ to worry about,” Gladio had offered only about an hour earlier as Ignis tidied up his cook station from lunch. “Prompto and Noct are out fishing and taking pictures and we still have plenty of daylight left. We’re allowed to have a little fun as well aren’t we?” As he spoke he moved to stand behind Ignis, his arms wrapping around the lithe Adviser, resting his chin on his shoulder. “It’ll add a little danger to our day!”

Ignis couldn’t help snorting at the ridiculous comment, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hide his smile. “Darling, our days are literally filled with danger or have you forgotten in your old ag-ah! Stahpit!” Ignis squeaked as Gladio wriggled his fingers against his sides where they rested, interrupting his teasing with a bout of hysterical giggles.

The attack didn’t last long though and Gladio couldn’t help smiling as Ignis relaxed back in his arms. “But it’s not the fun sort of danger! This is… rebellious. Don’t you ever want to be a wild man? Live life on the edge? Go against the norm?”

“I kiss you after you eat garula steak and beans… if that’s not living life on the edge I don’t know wha-ahahaht ihihihis! S-stop! I yeheheheild!” Ignis frantically apologized as those teasing fingers found his sides once more and honestly, trapped in the bearhug of his partners arms there was no way he could get free easily.

“You’re just full of piss and vinegar today, aren’t ya?” Gladio chuckled, stopping once more and pressing a few kisses against Ignis’s shoulder as the Adviser caught his breath. “Come on, Iggy. Let loose a little!”

And so that was how Ignis found himself standing on the edge of a small pond, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and wondering just how he’d become so easy to sway.

However, as he glanced over to the side and watched Gladio tossing his grey tank top over a low hanging branch and showing off every inch of his well muscled and tattooed torso the answer became abundantly clear.

It didn’t take long for Gladio to notice that he was being watched, however, and as he turned around Ignis felt his cheeks instantly heat up. Quickly he looked away, taking off his glasses and putting them on top of his shirt which he had folded and set nearby.

“Enjoying the show, Iggy?” Gladio murmured, walking closer and making Ignis feel butterflies bloom in his stomach.

“Don’t be smug. Smugness doesn’t suit you,” Ignis lied because oh how it suited the man.

Gladio’s wicked smile proved that he knew it as well and he gave a little chuckle before turning back around. “Uh huh. Your blush says different,” he teased and Ignis could feel his cheeks growing redder. “But you better hurry up before the terror twins show back up and wonder where we went.” Ignis gave a little snort at the nickname he had for the two and shook his head. “We literally left them a note saying that we were going for a swim. They’ll know to come down here regardless,” he said, taking off his belt and shoes.

Glancing over he saw Gladio scowling at him as he stood as brazen as ever in just his moogle print boxers. “Yeah, but they don’t know that this little dip is extra rebellious… and what would the kids think if they saw mama Ignis in all his glory?” he teased, making Ignis growl and throw one of his socks at the man who ducked with a laugh.

“First of all, do not refer to me as mama Ignis. That is for Prompto and Prompto alone. He is exempt,” Ignis warned before tucking his other sock into one of his shoes. “And they wouldn’t think anything. We’ve all had to bathe at least once out here as we’ve roughed it and honestly, if they can look at your hairy arse and not be scarred for li-IFE!”

Ignis had only just stepped out of his trousers and boxers when he felt himself hoisted into the air and unceremoniously tossed into the less then warm waters of their little pond.

Upon resurfacing with a splutter, Ignis only had a moment to try and right himself before he found his rather large and immature partner rushing toward the water. With a manic grin, moogle print boxers fluttering in the breeze as he tossed them behind himself, Gladio lept toward the water.

“Cannonball!!!” he shouted, launching himself in Ignis direction. The man couldn’t suppress a shout of surprise as his darling's ridiculousness sent a massive tidal wave crashing over him.

After resurfacing for a second time, Ignis spat out whatever water had made its way into his windpipe when he’d shouted and wiped the water from his eyes. Blinking blearily he found Gladio’s smug and smiling face a few inches from his own, a lily pad resting atop his head.

“You were sayin’?” he asked and Ignis reacted on pure, feral instinct and adrenaline.

With a growl and shout he launched himself at Gladio, trying to push the behemoth of a man under water though Gladio was absolutely unphased.

“You are a terrible human being! How could you just toss me in!?” Ignis growled, still attempting to push Gladio under, but only managing to make the Shield wobble slightly as all he was really accomplishing was climbing him.

“I’m terrible?” Gladio chuckled, wrapping his arms around Ignis and hugging him close as the man struggled half-heartedly to get away. “You said I had a hairy butt. That is being terrible.”

“Then use your words to tell me that… don’t toss me into a pond!” Ignis grumbled, attempting to pout before finding his cheeks under a barrage of soft pecks and kisses. His lips instantly started to quirk up into a smile and he brought his hands up, gently pushing at Gladio’s stubbly face. “St-stahpit! I’m… I’m trying to be dihihifficult!”

“Yeah well… this is me apologizing so deal with it,” Gladio chuckled, continuing to pepper kisses against Ignis cheeks until the poor Adviser could barely utter a word through his ridiculous giggles and snorts.

“So… do you forgive me?” Gladio asked as he finally stopped the barrage of kisses, giving Ignis his best puppy dog eyes as the retainer slowly calmed down from the loving attention.

“Astrals save me… yes. I forgive you. Now unhand me you lovable brute,” Ignis chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Gladio’s brow and reaching up to remove the lily pad from his partners head. After tossing it aside like a frisbee he looked back to his partner, a light smile on his lips. “So… I’m afraid I’m not sure what a true rebellious skinny dipping experience should entail.”

Gladio chuckled at that, leaning back slightly and doing a little backstroke away from Ignis. “The rebellious part is that we aren’t wearing swim trunks. Apart from that it’s just… enjoying a little swim and a little naked solitude away from the other two,” he said lightly, closing his eyes and floating on his back.

Ignis felt his cheeks heating up again, but decided to follow his partner’s example and try to enjoy their ‘naked solitude’ as Gladio had so eloquently put it.

However, as he was debating whether to swim toward the low hanging branches of a nearby willow or toward some black rocks near the edge of the pond he felt something slimy touch or rather slither against his leg…

… and the normally stoic man lost it.

Ignis shouted, instantly kicking his legs and swimming quickly away from the spot, turning back to stare at it with a look of abject horror.

“Something just brushed up against my leg!” he rasped, reaching down to touch said leg to see if there were any traces left of what it might have been. Glancing up he saw Gladio seven feet away from him, smirking and giving a little quirk of his eyebrow.

Ignis glared daggers at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling…. I love you, but I wouldn’t let you near me with a ten foot pole if that were the case.”

Gladio’s shit eating grin only grew at that. “I mean…”

“I heard it as soon as I said it! Don’t you dare say anything else!” Ignis amended quickly, knowing that keeping up with this line of banter would only lead to Gladio becoming insufferable. “But I’m being serious, Gladiolus! Something… something is in here and it touched me.”

Gladio lost the smugness when he heard his full name being used, his expression softening as he made his way closer. “Could it have been a fish? Some reeds or stems from the lily pads?” he offered, looking down into the water, trying to pinpoint what it was that would have made his normally unflappable partner react like that.

Ignis felt his cheeks heating up as he heard that, wondering if perhaps it had been in his imagination that something slithered against him when it could’ve been as simple as a reed.

At least that’s what he had started to try and tell himself until Gladio turned his back toward him… and Ignis saw the man’s tattoo move.

Ignis stood stock still for a moment, eyes unblinking as he stared at the expanse of Gladio’s back. He knew every plain of muscle and had traced every feather imprinted on his skin. There was nothing there that would ever or should ever surprise him. Blinking rapidly he ran a hand over his face and as he focused on Gladio’s shoulder he saw it again, a little wobble… and then all hell broke loose.

“LEECHES! IT’S FUCKING LEECHES, GLADIO!” Ignis bellowed, making a mad swim for the edge of the pond as Gladio looked at an Ignis shaped streak race toward shore.

“What?!” Gladio called back, bringing his arm out of the water and finding three of the mother suckers attached to his forearm.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

--------------------

“I can’t believe mama Ignis and Gladio would just leave us to fend for ourselves!” Prompto gasped dramatically, fighting a smile as he and Noct looked over the note the Adviser had left at his cook station.

“Right? How will we ever survive?” Noct deadpanned, rolling his eyes and laughing as Prompto nudged his shoulder lightly.

“No, but honestly. It’s cool that Gladio got Ignis to go and have a little fun,” Prompto said as he moved away, setting aside his camera on a small table near their camp chairs.

“What makes you think it was Gla-... nevermind, I heard it as soon as I sa-...,” Noct instantly stopped talking. His eyes turned toward the treeline of their haven as blood curdling screams could be heard echoing in the distance.

Prompto was by Nocts side in an instant, his pistols already drawn as Noct called forth his sword from the armiger. Both men braced themselves as the sounds of snapping twigs and underbrush could be heard getting louder and closer.

“W-was that…?” Prompto stammered, as Nocts hands tightened on his sword, fear taking over his heart in an icy grip.

“Get ready, Prompto… it’s almost here,” Noct grit out, knowing that whatever was hurtling toward them at breakneck speed had to be dealt with first before they could get into the words and search for their missing friends.

However, nothing could’ve prepared him for what came out into the clearing.

“I CAN FEEL THEM IN MY HAIR!” Gladio shouted, dropping to the ground as he and Ignis burst from the trees, naked as the day they were born. The Shield instantly began rolling around like a man possessed as Ignis ruffled his own hair like a maniac, kicking his legs and swatting at them in turn.

“YOU DESERVE IT! YOU TERRIBLE MAN!” Ignis shouted back, picking something off of himself and throwing it at Gladio with all the accuracy his years of daggers training allowed. Even in the midst of madness his aim was perfect.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

“YOU FOUND THE LOCATION!?”

“AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW SWIMMING VAMPIRES LIVED THERE?!”

Prompto and Noct watched the chaos unfolding before them, their weapons now held limply at their sides.

“Uh… Prom?” Noct whispered, watching as Ignis swatted at his back, picking off another little something and sending it flying toward the Shield. The larger man still doing an impeccable job of imitating a floundering garula.

“On it!” Prompto shouted, dismissing his pistols and rushing behind Noct. He returned only a few moments later, camera in hand and snapping as many pictures as his trigger finger could manage.

Noct dismissed his sword as well, watching as Gladio and Ignis continued to shout and rave like crazy swamp people.

“So,” Prompto asked, pausing in his pictures to look over at Noct, his voice strained in an effort to not laugh outright at the sight. “Do you think we should go and help them?”

Noct glanced from Prompto back to his two retainers.

“HOLD STILL, GLADIOLUS!”

“I CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO IF YOU DON’T WANT TO WALK AROUND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH A LEECH ATTACHED TO YOUR ARSE!”

Looking back at Prompto with a quirked eyebrow, Prompto finally couldn’t stop himself from falling into a giggle fit and nodded. “Good point,” he giggled, turning his camera lens back on the mayhem.

“We’ll at least wait for them to sort out Gladio’s butt. Then we’ll go help,” the young Prince said, taking a seat on the edge of the haven and listening to the shutter of Prompto’s camera capturing this magical moment. “I think once Ignis decides not to kill Gladio they’ll appreciate what we’re doing. It’ll be some… ‘pond’ memories for them.”

#ffxv #my fics #some tickles #f3s #gladnis #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #Noctis Lucis Caelum

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sasskarian · 4 years

Note

Your Danse fic though! Can you do something for "My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand?"

oh, nonnie, have I got a ficlet for you.

Note: I still maintain that this is all @asaara-writes fault. TWs for illness, wounds, and needles.

*** Hozier Prompts! *** Read on AO3! ***

Danse has been a soldier too long to be a deep sleeper.

That’s the first thing the Brotherhood trains you out of. The indoctrination comes later, because only a good soldier can be indoctrinated, and a good soldier has to wake up at the first hint of danger. So when he hears the first whimper from across the room, his eyes snap open. The night is quiet, except for Evelyn’s breathing. But even as he watches in the dim moonlight of the gutted building they’re squatting in for the night, her arm spasms— and the dog bellies up to her, nosing at her with a low whine.

Now that he’s awake, he can hear the uneven, ragged edge to her breath in place of the normal steady and slow he’s used to. Switching on his low-light red headlamp, he makes his way over to her bedroll. Dogmeat looks up at him, snuffling at the quick pat Danse gives him. The closer he gets to Evelyn, the more alarm fills him until he’s kneeling next to her and trying to stay calm. Sweat beads on her forehead, rolling down her damp skin in rivulets he might find aesthetic under literally any other circumstances. In the places it’s already hit her flight suit, dark patches lay like lightless pools against her chest.

Even as he watches, she convulses once, twice, and then a third time before falling so still, Danse checks to make sure she’s still breathing. Every good field medic has scanners built into their suits but Evelyn has something better. He tilts her Pip-Boy, fumbling with the tiny controls until, in frustration, he shucks off the heavy gauntlets and gloves of his power armor. She teases him about all but living in it, and his gut clenches as he convinces the Pip to show her vitals. He taps it, wondering for a moment if it’s malfunctioning, but the high pulse rate and low oxygen levels stay exactly the same.

Injury detected, it reads. Deploy stimpak?

Injury? His eyes sweep over her, pinning on a darker spot than the rest and rolls down the collar of her suit, hissing. Imprinted on freckled flesh is an almost perfect set of bite marks, flaming red and hot to the touch. Danse tries, desperately, to remember when she could have been bitten. Was it the fight near the old bookstore? Or down outside of Goodneighbor? In his memory, he hears the clang of armor hitting the ground, and a pained goddammit! But when he’d looked, Evelyn had been reattaching her pauldron, a smoking mutant hound at her feet.

I’m fine, she’d reassured, reloading her gun— the one he’d given her, some absurdly pleased part of him noted— before heading out. It’s a lie he should have known, recognized, after telling it so much himself.

How long had she been out of her armor? How long did radiation last after a radstorm? Danse searches his brain for answers but none came. Lists of symptoms, survival chances, those things dance in his brain, but the best he can do is shrug out of his own armor (that she wasn’t coherent enough to tease him about it stung) and sit on the side of her bed.

“Come on, Evelyn,” he murmurs. Shaking hands pry out a bottle of purified water and a cloth from their supply pack, trying to clean the bite of dried blood. As he puts gentle pressure on the wound, dribbles of pus and debris come away on the rag and he rips it in half, trying to prevent contamination as he cleans her, holding on to his forced calm by the tips of his fingers.

Danse’s scores in field medicine had been average across the board, but with his team more versed in it, those skills are rusty and fuck, he wants to kick himself for it.

“RadAway,” he tells himself, searching the field kit. Attaching the IV to the bag is easier than finding a place to hang it; he settles on taping it to the hip-brace of his armor with the medical tape Evelyn had insisted on. Finding a vein is harder. He bit his lip as he presses on her arm, thumps it with his fingers, curls her hand into a fist. Nothing seems to work until finally, the smallest hint of blue in the dawning light shows in the back of her hand.

Evelyn jumps and moans as he swabs the area with the cleaner side of the damp cloth and slides the needle in, her eyes fluttering. The first signs of the medicine helping come around eleven that morning, her crumpled features smoothing out a little. It’s subtle, but Danse can tell; he’s spent the entire night cataloging her every exhale and movement. Dogmeat has somehow ended up half curled on his lap, half draped over his mistress, his heavy rump giving a tentative wag when Evelyn’s breathing begins to even.

The last of the RadAway drips from the bag, traveling down the long, thin tube to her arm, and Danse slides the IV from her with relief. Next is hydration: a stimpak will have to wait, since he isn’t sure what the mixed medications might do. But as he shifts, leaning over her to drip lukewarm water into her mouth, her hand shoots out and grabs his.

“Nate?” Her voice cracks, ragged and wet-sounding, and oh, how his heart clenches. “I’m so cold, Nate.”

He— what does he do here? Dozens of suggestions zip through him, at least half fueled by the heat of her hand on his. “It’s okay,” he finally manages. “You’re a bit sick. Just rest.”

“Mm.” She curls into him, her cheek nuzzling against his thigh; Danse stares, frozen, disbelieving. “Stay? I’ve been having the worst dream.”

There’s only one answer to that, and his voice is soft, almost wondering, even as the soldier the Brotherhood raised to need nothing beyond himself quails and shivers in his cage of steel. “Of course,” he whispers. Slow, so slow and tentative, he brushes through the coppery hair spread across his lap. Danse can’t remember the last time— if ever— he’s touched someone without his gloves, and the silky slide of her curls through his fingers rocks him down to his bones.

And that's when he knows he’s in trouble. This— the soft afternoon, with wasteland birds warbling and the touch of her hand on his— is boggy ground. He is her Paladin, her commanding officer. She is his soldier, but… she’s also a friend. In this, though, the way she rests against him, warm and shivering and somehow more real than anything else he’s felt before, Danse is knee-deep in emotion and sinking fast.

It’s past midnight before her fever breaks. Danse has long since given up on propriety, stretched out on his side next to the bedroll to help keep her warm. Dogmeat drapes over both their feet, snoring softly in the night, and the only stretch of time measured is in the small beep the Pip gives for the alarm he set. Slowly, so he doesn’t disturb Evelyn, he reaches into his pocket for the stimpak syringe and eases it into her injured shoulder. She tenses in his arms, burrowing her face deeper into his chest, but doesn’t wake.

(It shouldn’t feel good, right? Is he a selfish old bastard, for enjoying this simple human contact?)

Still moving slow, he nudges Dogmeat into waking. “Your turn, boy,” he says, almost soundless. The dog is smarter than most humans Danse knows, though, and he trusts him to stand watch and wake him if something goes wrong. But they’ve picked their camp well, so he doesn’t expect much trouble: Ferals were cleared long ago in another patrol, and there’ve been no signs of mutants for at least a mile. So for a moment, a desperately needed moment after almost two days of trying to keep Evelyn breathing, Danse lets his eyes droop.

Sleep has almost claimed him when she stirs, breathing her husband’s name against his neck. Guilt lazily slides through him, that her delirium has slapped a dead man’s face over his own in her mind and he hasn’t corrected her, but shock freezes him solid when her lips brush his. Once, soft and sleepy, and then again, more firm; not quite a demand, but when her hands slide to his jaw, he knows he is definitely awake and not hallucinating from exhaustion. He pries her hands from his jaw, ignoring her quiet whine, and settles them between his chest and hers, shuddering when her fingers curl into his undersuit.

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his mouth, her breath a thousand soft pleas against his skin.

“You’re still sick,” Danse says, summoning the words from somewhere deep inside, a place where willpower reigns over guilt and loneliness. “Rest now, Evie.”

When she finally settles against him, her ankle resting trustingly between his and her hair tickling his nose, Danse squeezes his eyes shut against the prickling that is most definitely not tears. Paladins don’t cry, and especially not over lovers they can’t have. Loving Evelyn would be a betrayal of her trust, of his military discipline, and disrespecting the memory of her husband. (Wouldn’t it?)

But a smaller, sly part of him knows that he’ll tuck this memory in the depths of his heart: the way she feels, the heavy, reassuring warmth of her body against his. How she fits in his arms, and the silken, forbidden glint of sunlight on her curls. How soft her lips are, even in this dried out desert of horrors.

He’s not in love. He’s not.

But his final thought, before finally dropping into sleep, is a faint wish that maybe he could be, if he let himself.

#fallout 4 #paladin danse #paladin danse/sole survivor #dogmeat #tw medical #i did the thing #my fic #first kiss #hurt/comfort #Anonymous

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years

Text

“a deer in the crosshairs” (1/??)

Welcome! I love pain! That’s why I’m publishing the first two chapters of my long-awaited Grey Deer fic right now. Enjoy, and please give me some feedback through inbox/comments, I really need it so I know what I need to improve. Thanks!

Synopsis: After a traumatic attack, a member of the Grey Deer realizes that someone on her own squad is out to get her. Out of all the people she considers her friends and comrades, two of them committed a brutal crime, leaving her in a paranoid, frightened state. Why would they do this? Why her? What is going to happen now? Among all the fear, she knows there's at least one person she can trust: her very own Vice Captain, Julius.

The Clover Kingdom is known for its balmy summers, temperate falls, and forgiving winters. I just so happened to be born in the dead center of one of those winters, on the coldest, most unforgiving night of that year. It wasn't like that made a difference, though. My mother was warm and well-cared for within our large house, heated by mountains of blankets and a crackling fireplace. She was the daughter of a wealthy landlord, and my father was born into nobility. We had it about as good as it could get.

When I was five years old, my parents took me to visit the castle for the first time. I had no idea what was going on, but it was fun to dress up in a frilly dress and be doted on by servants. We met an important-looking man and his family, which included a boy maybe 4 or 5 years older than I am. He had dark hair slicked back into a little bun, and two cold grey eyes that I could never bring myself to look into very deeply.

"So, did you like Prince Lawrence?" my mother asked me on the way home, palpable excitement in her voice. I just nodded a little as I sucked on a lollipop my father gave me to keep me occupied. The truth was, I had said maybe 2 words to the boy before avoiding him the entire time. However, my mother was pleased. "Good! It's very important that the two of you get along."

I didn't know it at the time, but as far as nobles went, we were on thin ice. My mother's once-wealthy father went out of business shortly before his death, and my father's family told him he was a disgrace for marrying into an unstable financial situation. I don't blame them for choosing the one viable way out of their situation... even if that solution ended up being none other than little ol' me.

What was the solution, you ask?

I was to marry into the Kira family.

Lawrence Kira was a distant cousin of the king, but he was close enough to royalty that it would have us set for life. Back then, I didn't really care. It was decided long before I started to care. I was supposed to marry him when I turned 18, but that plan was postponed when I let my friend Alice convince me to take the Magic Knights Exam. I didn't really know what to expect, but my magic is as potent as it gets, despite being a "cut-rate noble," as some people called us. Lucky for me, a few captains raised their hands, and I chose the one I knew was the best.

And so, seven years later, here I am, celebrating the coming of the new year with the Grey Deer.

"Hey, you, refill my mug, will'ya!?"

I quickly push away the empty mug that's shoved into my face. "Ah, no, I'm not your servant, Nigel," I tell the boy. "I'm older than you, anyway!"

Nigel sticks out his tongue but doesn't push the subject, mostly because he's barely conscious right now as it is. Everyone's been drinking all night, but Nigel obviously doesn't hold his beer so well.

"Aww, we got a little baby, don't we!" Two of the older knights, Margery and Wren, walk over to flank the boy, who looks between them a few times. "You're 20 aren't you? I could down 20 beers in a row when I was 16!" Margery cackles cruelly. She's a beautiful woman who's usually nicer than this, but tonight seems to be making her rowdy.

"Margery, be nice," I scold lightly, being careful not to sound impertinent. She's several ranks above me, after all. However, the liquid courage is going straight to my head. "Not everyone was an alcoholic at 16!"

Wren's bloodshot eyes widen while Margery's face contorts into an over-exaggerated expression of rage. "Are you trying to insult me?!" she screeches, grabbing the collar of my cloak. I know better than to resist as she pulls me so close that she practically spits on me. "Another word, and I'll shove a thousand pearls up your little-"

"Ooh, you're gonna fight?" a booming voice calls. We both look over to see none other than Captain Hervey himself addressing us from the head of the table, sipping wine from a goblet. He's a tall man with blonde hair that spirals up in three big spikes, and a goatee that he never stops toying with. He's got a rather boorish personality, and can be accidentally mean without realizing it. It's not his fault; he's just really good an unintentionally hurting people's feelings. "Everyone, the showdown is finally happening!"

A few people hoot and holler at the announcement. We're a squad of sixteen people, yet we make this room feel like it's thronged with a huge crowd. The Grey Deer are known for their efficiency and elegance in battle, but when we're drunk we resemble the Crimson Lion Kings very closely. Sixteen people, yet not everyone is here. My friend Alice is off on patrol by herself tonight and visiting her elderly mother, so she isn't here to join in with the festivities. So, we're fifteen members tonight...

Wait. There's only 14 people here. Who's missing, other than Alice?

"Are you even listening to me?!"

I'm shaken (literally) from my thoughts by Margery and snap back to attention. "I'm your senior, and I'll fight you right now to prove it!"

"Ah! Actually, I'd rather not!" I hold up my hands to plead with her. "I don't want to use my magic inside!"

Margery practically growls like a feral animal. "Then... let's go outside!"

"Are you crazy? It's snowing cats and dogs out there," Giles, a knight who's my age and joined at the same time as me, observes. Out of the trio of me, Alice, and Giles, he's usually the more logical one. "Just settle it some other time."

It's not worth pursuing any longer, so Margery finally lets me go. "You're on thin fucking ice-" she warns me before returning to her seat. I sigh and shake my head. She's not going to remember any of this tomorrow morning anyway.

Giles sighs and takes another bite of his food. There's more than usual tonight, since it's a rare holiday and all. "How much longer until midnight?"

"Another hour." Elia, my roommate, yawns a little, gazing over at me from across the table with tired eyes. "I don't think I'm going to last that long."

"You have to! It's New Years!" Nigel insists, giggling as if he just told us the funniest joke the world has ever heard (news flash: he has not done such a thing). "It's the only time of year we can slack off like this."

"Ooh, that reminds me..." I wince before looking back up at the head of the table. The seven senior knights and the captain reserve that section for themselves, then the intermediate knights like myself get the middle section. At the opposite end is the "kids area," for all the junior knights. We have four of them right now, two of them being brand new recruits. "Captain, do we have to work tomorrow?"

"Ah... I guess you have to." There's a loud groan from all parts of the table at this news, and Hervey slams his goblet on the table loudly. "BUT! You didn't let me finish!" he roars. "You don't have to get up until 10, how's that?!" He smirks to himself as we all agree, of course.

"Hey... let's do a game..." Nigel slurs, resting his chin on his elbow. "I'm bored."

"Fine. What game?" Giles actually looks pretty excited for once, and catches the attention of me and Elia.

Nigel grins and straightens up, holding up his hand with all five fingers up. "Never have I ever... made eyes at Vice Captain Malota."

"Oh, ewww!" We look over to see Wren wrinkling his nose. "No offense, but she has a stick up her butt all the time." Malota is a little older, but she's still pretty, with long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Her face is very angular like a vulture, but... a sexy vulture. But Wren is right; she's a very capable woman, but she has a weird personality.

"... you got me." Giles blushes behind his glasses and puts a finger down. Both Nigel and Wren giggle at him. "Stop it! I'm sure you're crushing on someone here!"

"Me? I would never stoop that low," Wren shoots back. "Okay, okay, I got one... never have I ever broken a bone!"

Everyone whines at the question, because of course that's happened to everyone. Everyone but Wren, apparently. He gloats to himself as we're all forced to lower a finger. "Who's next?"

"I'll go!" Elia pipes up, which is a little surprising because she's never the one to put herself out there. "Never have I ever..." She grins evilly. "Had SEX."

"oh, EW!" All the boys chorus at once, going red in the face at the sheer audacity. "Of ALL the immature things you could have said!" Wren objects, but puts a finger down anyway (not gonna lie... I'm kind of surprised to hear that he isn't still a virgin at 25 years old). Elia just giggles and looks pointedly at the rest of us. Nigel shrugs and puts a finger down, Giles blushes and keeps his up, and I, too, am forced to put it down, which throws Wren into outrage once again. "WHAT?! YOU? Y-You had, you did the-"

"Yes, obviously," I snap, wishing we could just get to the next question already. "What's the big deal?"

"Aren't you engaged?" Giles asks curiously.

"First of all, that's none of your business, second of all..." I cross my arms. "Yes, I'm engaged... who do you think I did it with, dummy?"

A collective "oh" moves through our group. "That makes sense, I guess..." Wren shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at me. "Whore!"

"Shut up."

"OI! I just realized something!" Our attentions are pulled back to the head of the table, where Hervey is scowling at the empty seat to his right. "Julius... he went out for air two hours ago and still hasn't come back!!"

"What, you think he died or something?" Wren asks, shaking his head. "He's probably just got tired of us."

"Unacceptable! It's almost midnight, and my new vice captain isn't even here!?" Hervey growls. "Someone go out and get him... YOU!" I jump with fear as he points a hairy finger right at me. "Go get him! Actually, lure him in with a warm drink! It can't be fun being out in the blizzard all alone!"

I want to ask why me, but when the captain tells you to do something, you do it. So, reluctantly, I stand up and walk off into the kitchen, letting the sounds of the party get muffled by the door. The counters are strewn with empty bottles and kegs, with only a few full ones left. The only warm drink available right now are the dregs of the mulled wine from the pot, so I carefully scoop some out into a mug. It feels good as I clutch it in my hands and steel myself for the trip outside.

Julius was made vice captain just a couple days ago, chosen to serve next to Hervey and Malota. His personality is 100 times more bearable than either of them, but there's no denying that everyone in the squad is just a tad bit... scared of him. He's been around since I first joined, but we never really talked or ended up doing missions together until recently. In terms of ability, he's leaps and bounds ahead of everyone. But at the same time, he's not really close to anyone. Julius is the type of guy who gets along with everyone on the squad, no matter how volatile their personalities seem to be, but his only real friend seems to be the senior knight Elger, who keeps to himself as well. Sometimes, it feels like he just... operates on a completely different plane of reality than the rest of us.

Giles was right, it is snowing like it's never snowed before. I think briefly about the stories my parents told me about my own birth, how the wind rattled the windows and blanketed the earth in snow. I wonder if there's a baby being born somewhere tonight, under those same conditions.

The wind blows my cape around, and my uniform does little to shelter my body from the freezing fingers of the cold. My teeth are chattering and the only warmth comes from the mug in my hands. If I don't see him in five minutes, I'm drinking this myself! I think bitterly to myself, trudging around the perimeter of our base. It's not even easy to see, with the dim light of the moon shadowed by gales of snow. Maybe Julius didn't even go outside? Maybe he went back to his room because he was tired? That's what I would have done.

In one last attempt to find him, I call out his name. "Julius! Julius!?"

There's no way he can hear me, I think, shaking my head a little. Admittedly, I'm pretty eager to get back inside. If he's actually out here, he can take care of himself-

"Hello? Who's there?"

Shit. I let out a sigh before turning back around, and finally spot a figure walking towards me in the dark. Tall, blonde, handsome, with a smile that puts everyone around him at ease. Sure enough, it's Julius, who looks largely unaffected by the blizzard around him, albeit confused as to why I ventured out to find him. "What brings you out here on this lovely evening?"

"Ha ha, very funny." I'm not really in the mood for a cheeky joke right now. "We noticed you were gone, so I brought something out to warm you up." I hold out the mug, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his face. "Why're you out here all alone, anyway?"

"Oh? Thank you! I was feeling a bit chilly, anyway," Julius thanks me with a kind smile as he takes the mug. A bit chilly!? It's freezing! "I was... I don't know. I guess I just felt like taking a walk, and forgot about the party." He takes a sip of the drink, his eyes glancing over at the warm light pouring from the base's windows.

"You forgot?" I repeat, wondering what he was really thinking. "Well, I was told to bring you back inside, it's almost midnight, you know. I don't really feel like going back empty-handed."

"Is it?" Julius peers down at me and lets out a soft laugh, which I don't really appreciate. "I'm sorry to disappoint... but I think I'll stay out a bit longer. Don't worry about me..." For the first time, his smile fades, and something pools in his eyes as he looks away into the darkness.

"I have... a lot to think about."

I like to think that I'm a very observant person. My magic is illusion magic, which gives me the power to conjure images and scenes within the minds of others. But to effectively fight an enemy, I have to be able to glean information about them just from the surface. The way they move, the way they fight, the way they talk... but most importantly, I have to look into their eyes. Only then can I see their souls, and then I know how I can beat them.

Julius, a powerful, dependable man, is still just like everyone else. And the moment I search him for the first time, I can tell that something is wrong. Not only that, but he has the distinct look of someone in mourning. A lot to think about? I wonder if it was a family member... or maybe a friend. Either way, it's probably best to leave him alone. I'm sure he'll find peace somehow.

"You don't have to stay out here, you know." I snap out of my thoughts to see that he's talking to me again, his smile returned. "I'll be okay."

"...are you sure?" I know it's not my place to push the subject, but for some reason I feel a bit worried about him. Me? Worried about him? It was strange, but true. I know I should leave, but part of me feels like I need to stay. "I-I mean, I don't know, I wasn't having much fun anyways," I correct myself, looking away and crossing my arms. "And I told you, I'm not going back empty handed. If you're out here because something's troubling you... then maybe you should get it off your chest, feel better, then come back inside!"

...

Did those words really just come out of my mouth?! I'm talking to the vice captain! Jeez, and I sounded so demanding too, of all the insensitive things I could have said! What should I do? Run back inside? No... I'll run into the forest. Maybe I'll even freeze to death, or get eaten by a wild animal! It would be better than this embarrassment. Oh god, now what-

"My, you could really tell all that from just looking at me? It's amazing how magic can hone other skills... alright then. If you're fine with the cold, let's walk."

... oh? I'm not in trouble? Miraculously, Julius even looks slightly amused as he gestures at me, frozen in place in the snow. "Come on! I'm not going to bite."

"...alright." I shake my head a little before trudging up to his side. Maybe I should have just gone inside when I had the chance. Now I'm stuck out here... I glance over at Julius to see that he has a more neutral expression as we walk, his eyes fixed on the snowy path ahead. "So... what's been going on?"

Julius lets out one breath, letting it fog in the air in front of him. "A friend of mine died... to put it simply."

That's what I thought, I think to myself. "I'm sorry to hear that. It was recent?"

"Yeah... well, about a month ago." Julius shakes his head a little, the wound obviously still fresh in his heart. "He was a magic knight, too, in the Purple Orcas."

I didn't know anyone from the other squads, so it's surprising to hear that Julius had a friend from the Purple Orcas. "... I'm sure he was a great magic knight, if you were friends with him."

That catches Julius's attention for a split second, and I notice his lips try to twitch back into a smile. "Oh? That's quite the compliment." He gives me a pointed look which I quickly avoid. "But yeah, he was probably the best magic knight I've ever met."

He slows to a stop, letting out another long sigh. "Look, the storm is clearing a little."

Indeed, the snow wasn't swirling around as violently as before, and the wind doesn't sting at my skin. In fact, we could see a couple stars in the sky, their light piercing through.

"...I guess life is just cruel. It takes away the best people and leaves the rest of us to kill each other."

The sentiment is startling to hear, especially from such a mild-mannered man. It's a sign that, for the past month, Julius has been silently suffering, waiting for his peace to come.

Life is cruel... but our fates aren't absolute. I know that better than anyone. I'm in the process of destroying my fate, after all.

I don't really know what to say to that, and Julius quickly picks up on the growing awkwardness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off as angry at you-" He looks over at me and cuts himself off. "You okay? You're practically turning blue!"

"H-Huh?" To my horror, I barely feel my lips as I talk. I look down to see that the hands I've been hugging close to my body are shaking violently, and going numb as well. Shit! I didn't realize how cold I was getting, maybe I should-

"Here." I look up to see Julius starting to pull his cloak over his head. "Put this on, it's still warm from my body."

Still warm from my body.

I draw in a startled gasp and step away three times quickly, stuttering out something incomprehensible. "Ah- uh- n-no thanks! It's ab-bout time I g-g-go inside anyway!"

At least my face is warm now. Julius realizes his mistake and opens his mouth awkwardly, retracting his offer. "Oh... sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it's fine!" I manage to compose myself and give him a shaky thumbs up. "Are you coming in or not?"

"I think I'll stay out a little longer." He relaxes and even gives me a smile after he pulls the cloak back on. "You were right... I feel a little better."

Well, at least this trip into the blizzard wasn't all for nothing. "I'm glad to hear it... See you later."

With that, I turn away and head back inside to join the others as they countdown into the new year, while Julius stays out to weather the storm just a little bit longer.

...

Read chapter two on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319412/chapters/64089274#workskin

#julius novachrono #julius novachrono x reader #grey deer fic #black clover #writing #fic #uh oh here we go #why do I keep starting these fics #I have no self control #Enjoy it

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shireness-says · 4 years

Text

A Sparking Attraction

Summary: Emma just wanted a nice, relaxing weekend. Who knew her car trouble would be the ticket into her hot's neighbor's pants? Rated E for smut. ~3.7K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Inspired by my recent car trouble. Unfortunately, Emma’s the only one with a hot neighbor to come to her rescue. Thanks as always to @snidgetsafan for her beta-ing!

Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @profdanglaisstuff, @scientificapricot, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @optomisticgirl, @snowbellewells, @ohmightydevviepuu, @let-it-raines, @winterbaby89

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

“Goddamn, motherfucking, piece of fucking shit —”

This was, to say the least, not the morning Emma had hoped to have. It was a rare weekend off from the station, and as much as Emma usually loved her job as a Storybrooke Sheriff’s Deputy, a couple days off were much needed after a week where it seemed like the entire town had been out to irritate her personally. Leroy and his brothers had gotten into yet another screaming match, Ella Cruller wouldn’t lock up her dogs again, Victor Whale had been drunk and belligerent at the Rabbit Hole on a goddamn Tuesday night the list went on and on. Emma needs some ice cream and a grilled cheese and probably a stiff drink, and above all to hermit at her apartment and not re-emerge until she’s back to work Monday afternoon.

Unfortunately, to achieve those pathetically small dreams, Emma has to go to the store. And unfortunately, since Emma has things to do, her fucking car won’t start. Probably the battery. Of course.

She shouldn’t be surprised, really; it’s not like the Bug is some pristine new machine that’s in perfect working order. She loves that stupid thing, but it’s old, and old cars have problems. The only minor miracle is that hers is a new enough model to have the battery properly in the rear compartment instead of under her back seat. Of course, she doesn’t have one of those handy cordless battery jumpers David is always on her to buy; no, that would be too simple. She’d meant to buy one for a while, but they’re fucking expensive and what were the chances she’d need it anyways?

Famous last words, obviously.

“Fucking traitor,” she mutters again, scowling at the exposed engine where she’s propped the back hatch up and kicking lightly at one of her tires. Ok, not so lightly, but the car deserves it, even if her toes don’t.

She’s just about to start up with another string of profanity in order to avoid trying to actually fix the problem when a voice calls from behind her - directly behind her, in fact. “Car trouble, lass?” Even if the soft accent and tone of voice aren’t alarming, the proximity is, and Emma claps a hand over her chest above where her heart is spasming. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed his approach in her focus on cursing at the little car.

“Fuck almighty, you scared the shit out of me,” she accuses, whirling around to meet the eyes of her neighbor. It’s Killian Jones, of course; if the accent wasn’t a dead giveaway, her current streak of luck would dictate it anyways. Because of course her effortlessly hot neighbor who Emma definitely doesn’t have anything resembling a crush on, no sir, no way, would show up now when she’s ratty-looking and irritable. At least she showered this morning; it’s a scant blessing.

At least he has the decency to look a little sheepish. Serves him right, after the scare he gave her. “Apologies, love. I heard a commotion, looked out my window to see your hood popped open, and thought I’d come offer my assistance.” He pauses for a bare second before picking up again, not even enough time for Emma to start responding. “Though really, is it still called the hood if it’s at the back of the car?”

Emma just stares for a moment. “Seriously?”

“You’re right, doesn’t matter,” he concedes. “Do you need any help? I can’t say I’m good at car repair, but I’m decent at taking directions.”

“It’s fine,” Emma replies. “Not my first rodeo with changing the battery in this car. Call me an old pro or something. Don’t worry about me.”

Not that it stops him, a concerned little wrinkle set stubbornly in his forehead. “Well, you’re going to need a new one, right?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Can I drive you to the auto parts shop, at least?”

Emma pauses at the offer. Honestly, she’d planned to call David; technically, he’s working, but she thinks with some finagling this could fall under the “public assistance” bit of his job description. Emma is always hesitant to accept help if she doesn’t have to - call it an unfortunate remnant of a shitty childhood - but Killian is here, and he is offering. Even if Emma doesn’t want to accept his help on principle, she knows he won’t judge her for taking it or think she’s weak. She may not know her neighbor that well, but he’s never been anything but polite and chivalrous, if a bit flirtatious at times.

(Maybe one day she’ll take him up on that flirting; for now, at least, she can take him up on that offer of a ride.)

She must have been thinking for longer than she thought, because Killian looks like he’s about to withdraw the offer in embarrassment. He’s a stutterer when he’s nervous, Emma’s noticed; not that she’s had much cause to, but in a town this size, it’s impossible not to catch folks in some kind of embarrassment eventually, and she’s seen him with his brother.

“You know what? Sure, a ride would be great,” she agrees. The way Killian’s shoulders drop in a small show of relief makes her more confident in her choice, especially when he smiles at her in what she almost might call delight. “Let me get the old battery out first, it goes easier when I can just drop the old one on the counter and ask to swap it. Can you grab my toolbox out of the trunk?”

“Of course, Swan.”

With Killian’s help - ok, more like “supervision” - the car surgery goes quickly. Emma’s only had to do this once before, but muscle memory is a powerful thing, and it’s easy enough to detach the battery once she knows what other pieces need to be carefully extracted and set aside to get at her goal in the limited space of the Volkswagen. It’s easy, too, to get a new battery when the owner of the auto parts store is one of Leroy’s brothers who she’d had to deal with earlier in the week - just one pointed glare on Emma’s part, and the little whiny man had quickly gone to get her replacement without any long lectures about how to reinstall it or how some people just don’t take good care of their vehicles.

“If I didn’t say it before, thanks for doing this,” Emma says quietly as Killian drives them both back to their apartment complex in his little SUV. He’s a careful driver, she’s discovered, navigating them smoothly around corners and executing gentle stops. It speaks well of him, she thinks, that he’s gentle in even this most mundane of activities.

“It’s not a problem, love,” he smiles. “I promise. Truthfully, watching you work on the car is all to my benefit.” The statement sits in the air for a moment before he continues. “Oh, now that sounds sketchy, doesn’t it?”

Emma laughs. “I mean, I think I know what you mean, but yeah, probably not the best choice of words.” It’s been interesting, watching him bounce back and forth in the months they’ve been acquainted between a suave flirt and this more bashful version of himself.

Honestly, it’s pretty cute too.

“I just mean…” He tries again, pauses. “It was impressive. Watching a woman perform her own car repair. Attractive.” He groans. “God, just let me put my foot even further into my mouth.”

“No, no it’s okay,” Emma assures him. “I… thanks, I guess.” It’s flattering, really - especially since she’s been ogling him from down the hall for months now.

“You’re welcome.” They sit in silence. “So, shall we talk about literally anything else now? Let’s do that. Please.”

Knowing what he admitted, though, it’s hard not to put on a little bit of a show when Emma re-installs the new battery. Maybe she lets her shirt ride up, and maybe she leans a little more exaggeratedly over the rear compartment as she works. So what? She’s a woman with needs like any other, and any desire to spend the rest of her weekend alone has melted as she spent her morning with Jones.

When the repairs are finally done, Emma slams the hatch back shut and turns to face Killian, whose eyes skate up and down her figure as she slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She knows the posture accentuates her breasts and pushes her hips forward into something that almost might be a sway or a swagger; she’s counting on it, in fact.

“Thanks again for the help,” she tells him, dropping her voice to a more sultry register. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he replies, before slipping into an attitude to match Emma’s own. “If you feel that way, though… well, who am I to argue. Perhaps a… token of appreciation is in order?” He even taps at his lips, the saucy cheeky bastard.

(She’s so going to fuck that.)

Emma can give as good as she gets, though, both in banter and in other, more private things. “Funnily enough, that’s what the thank you was for.” Even as the words leave her mouth, Emma sways further into Killian’s space, proving them to be just a facade.

“Is that all your precious Bug is worth to you?” Killian is close enough that Emma can feel the warmth of his breath wash across her face. She could just tilt her head up the smallest bit and claim his lips…

So she does. There’s absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t, especially since she’s felt this sizzling something simmering beneath her skin, a scorching heat she’s seen reflected in Killian’s eyes, ever since the moment they first ran into each other in the hallway five months ago. He’s just as good a kisser as she imagined, though the way their lips meet is nearly feral in its intensity. He, too, gives just as good as he gets, each thrust of Emma’s tongue met with a parry of his own, all accentuated by a forceful tug to bring her hips into contact with his own. God, it’s good.

Frankly, Emma would be happy to keep at it right here in the parking lot, let their clothes drop into the backseat of the Bug and figure out the logistics of sex in the world’s most cramped car, but there’s the matter of neighbors and passers-by and public indecency. “Inside,” she manages to gasp just as Killian squeezes her ass. Lord only knows how she manages to keep her train of thought after that. “We gotta go inside. Now.” She even pushes him away and towards the door in emphasis.

“Your place or mine?” Killian trots after her as Emma sets a determined pace, still managing to reach the door in time to hold it open for her. Stupid gentleman, they don’t have time for that.

Vague memories of dirty laundry on the floor decide for Emma. “Yours,” she tosses back to him. If this is going to be more than a one time thing, she doesn’t want his first impression of her place to be an utter disaster. They live mere doors apart anyways; it’s not like there’s one apartment obviously closer than the other.

The elevator ride to the third floor seems to take forever, but it’s still better than taking the stairs - even if they have to stay in opposite corners to keep from jumping each other in the little box. It’s funny; normally, the enforced distance would cool the fire raging in her blood and knock Emma to her senses, but it only leaves her imagining all the things she wants to do with Killian, to Killian when they finally make it behind locked doors. She wants him, and there’s no denying it.

At least he has the presence of mind to spend the elevator ride locating his apartment keys; once they reach his door, it’s the work of a moment to slip inside. Killian immediately cages Emma against the wall next to the door, trapping both her hands above her head as he attacks her mouth and neck with his lips.

“Been thinking about this for a long while, Swan,” he murmurs against her neck as he finishes sucking what will be a very impressive hickey into her skin. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Oh yeah?” She gasps back. “Me too.” He can take that any way he likes; she means it, regardless.

Abruptly, Killian lets go of her hands only to hoist her into the air. Emma’s legs twine around his hipson instinct, but she’s got other, more important things to worry about - namely, kissing the living daylights out of Killian and the way his toned stomach rubs against her center as he walks them to the bedroom.

She squeals as he tosses her lightly onto the bed, Emma’s body bouncing on impact. Emma scoots up the bed to watch as Killian begins to undress, whipping his t-shirt over his head and starting to reach for his shoes before he notices her staring.

“Are you planning to strip, love?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow. The hunger is evident in his eyes and in the tenting of his pants, which only makes Emma want to tease him.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to watch.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” Killian whines, halting his own disrobing to crawl over Emma’s body again. “I’ve shown you mine, and here you are, still all wrapped up.”

“I mean, technically, all I’ve seen is your chest. It’s nice, but…” Emma trails her hand down the hair and flesh of his abdomen until she hits denim, twisting her hand to squeeze his erection. “It’s not really what I want to see.”

“You make a good point, love.” His voice catches in his throat in restrained pleasure; Emma kind of loves it. “Now, what do you say that I show you some more of what you’re looking for, and you take care of some of your pesky layers?”

To borrow the kind of words he’d use: she’s amenable to that plan.

He’s got a great dick, really, once she’s down to her bra and underwear and he’s bare in front of her. It’s large without being impractically massive and bobs proudly and eagerly towards his stomach. He obviously knows he’s worth looking at, if his confident stance is any indication. God, Emma can’t wait.

“Let me help you with that, darling,” he purrs, moving back into Emma’s space to reach behind her and unclasp her bra. Thank god her most comfortable bra also happens to be her most flattering, and passably pretty at that. Not that it matters when the garment is already on the floor and Killian’s fingers have ducked beneath the elastic of her underwear to draw them slowly down.

“Like what you see?” She asks coyly as the cotton hits the ground. She already knows her answer if the way Killian peruses her naked form with wide eyes is any indication.

“Only a fool wouldn’t,” Killian comments, “and darling, I’m no fool. I must say, though, I’m a little less interested in looking than in touching.”

“Then you’d better get over here.”

This time, when Emma falls back on the bed, pulling Killian with her, she intends to stay there.

Killian grinds his cock against her core, the most glorious sensation after all this banter and buildup. Skin-on-skin feels good, satisfying, though not quite enough to satisfy her craving. There’s only one thing that will do that, she knows, and as much as she wants the slick burn of his body within hers, this friction just feels too good to stop. It’s hard to push away the man who’s rubbing against her clit just right.

Finally, though, her craving is too strong to deny. “Condom?” She asks, pushing lightly at Killian’s shoulders to capture his attention.

“Aye,” he pants, a little breathless in his arousal. “Side table.” He doesn’t take the direct path, however, doesn’t just roll off her and reach for the drawer; he detours instead to her breasts to graze his teeth along a nipple and make Emma shudder in pleasure.

She allows herself to get distracted by his attentions for a moment; it’s been a long while since a little boob play has felt this good. Maybe it’s his own skill; maybe she’s already so aroused from everything else that it’s heightened the sensations. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter as long as he keeps making her moan. There’s greater pleasure to be found, however, and with that in mind, Emma makes herself pull Killian away from her chest with a tug on his thick, dark hair. Killian pouts at the interruption - god, what an adorable idiot - but she’s insistent. Plus, she’s got something even more pleasurable in mind.

“Seriously, Jones. Condom. Sex. Now.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Killian mutters as he finally shifts off Emma to open the drawer and extract a little foil packet. Before he can move to do anything about it, she plucks the condom out of his hand and pushes at Killian until he lays back on the mattress so she can straddle him.

“So you want to be on top, hmm?” He asks her breathlessly as Emma rolls the latex down his length. As she pumps him with her hand, making sure everything’s snug, he moans. “I suppose it’s a good thing I like a woman in charge.”

“I suppose it is,” Emma replies, rising up to situate his cock at her entrance, “because you’re about to get one.” And with that, she gradually sinks down on him, feeling the burn as he stretches her inner walls.

For all her talk, this part always takes a moment to adjust to, with little rocking motions and shallow thrusts of Emma’s hips until she settles into that perfect angle of penetration. Beneath her, Killian’s eyes are blown wide and dark with lust, and his hands grip at her hipbones.

“You’ve got to move,” he gasps. “For the love of God, you’ve got to move.”

Emma clenches around him, eliciting another moan, before heeding his plea. There’s no reason a woman in charge can’t be a little bit merciful - for both their sakes. The angle is so damn good, especially when she adds a little twist of her hips on each downward thrust. Maybe it’s just because this unspoken thing has been sitting between them for months, but Emma can already feel her pleasure building.

“Want to help a girl out?” She pants as she increases the pace, chasing for the orgasm she can sense just out of reach. When Killian doesn’t immediately move - by the looks of things, too distracted in watching where her body envelops his own - Emma forcibly grabs his hand from where it had been stroking the flesh of her hip and drags it just above where they meet. He can figure it out from there, if he’s half as clever as he acts.

Sure enough, when he gets with the program, tendrils of sensation start chasing down Emma’s legs all the way to her toes. “You like that, love?” He asks breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that,” she gasps out. “Fuck.”

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Killian prattles on beneath her. Emma truthfully doesn’t pay much attention; the way the curl of his accent sets her blood pounding is more important than anything he has to say. Still, he continues. Maybe he knows she’s not listening, maybe he doesn’t; in the end, does it matter? “Come for me, love, I know you want to.”

And with his thumb on her clit and his cock throbbing within her, she does, flying into a flurry of sensation and bliss.

She’s barely come down from her high before Killian flips their positions, sliding out of her heat for the barest of moments before he thrusts back inside. He’s still hard within her, obviously not having found the same release she has. Emma moans as his cock strokes along her inner walls. “You feel so good around me, so tight, darling,” he croons as he sets a steady pace with the snap of his hips. “Do you think you’ve got another one in you? Do you think you can come for me again?”

Emma doesn’t know for certain, but she’s certainly willing to find out.

It turns out, Killian’s a talker in bed when he’s the one holding the reins - little endearments and dirty talk Emma wonders if he’s even aware of saying. She can tell his orgasm is close when the words stop altogether, replaced by little grunts as he works above her, arms braced by her sides and head bowed over her chest.

He comes with a deep groan just as the tingle of her own release starts to build again; Emma could almost curse in frustration, even if she did already climax earlier. Killian must sense that frustration as he hurriedly drops his hand back between her legs as soon as he’s finished, rubbing furiously at her clit. He pulls out as his cock begins to soften, only to plunge two fingers within her fluttering core instead to thrust and stroke instead. It’s not the same, but it’s enough, and Emma soars over that peak one more time with a mighty exhale of what might almost be Killian’s name.

“God, that was good,” Emma gasps as she comes back to herself again. Faintly, she’s aware of Killian taking care of the used condom, though she can’t bring herself to care about the details. “Good job team, or… something.”

Killian chuckles as he shifts back to curl around her. “You know, you might even say I gave you a jolt,” he teases.

“Oh, that was awful,” Emma groans, even as she wiggles deeper into his embrace. “Promise me you’ll never say that again, please.”

“I make no promises,” Killian laughs back. “This wit won’t be contained.”

Emma can work with that. After all, she’s she’s currently making several plans that involve him this weekend - and they'll be sure to make sparks fly for as long as their batteries hold out.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs smut #my writing #A Sparking Attraction #it's just smut y'all

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 12: The Painting

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Awakening Ball is in full swing and the party mood is infectious. But Nadya's natural curiosity isn't always a good thing.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Luckily the orchestra waits to start playing dancing music until she’s two glasses of champagne in and suitably bubbly enough to join.

Adrian offers his hand and promises not to resent her for her two left feet. It’s pretty much the same sweeping classical waltz in every period drama ever but when she starts to lose what little grace she has Adrian picks up the slack — literally. He picks her up off her feet and carries the weight of them both. Lucky for Nadya the skirts on her dress make it impossible for anyone to notice.

Not like anyone would notice her hovering off the floor, anyway. Not when her pining eyes catch sight of Kamilah dancing with a Duchess of some sort in the middle of the crowd.

“I’m sorry.” Adrian whispers in her ear. It only helps because he means it. Because he squeezes her waist a little tighter and does a flashy thing that raises her up in the air with a whoop of joy.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” she’s not lying to Adrian but rather to herself and he knows it, “I’m used to the whole ‘one-sided affection’ thing.”

They part with a bow and curtsy, have to weave together with held hands as guests switch partners and move into a new beat and tempo.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“All part of the finite package.” Because yes, being surrounded by vampires both new and old (and the humans too, but she doesn’t know many of them now does she?) has her thinking about things like that. Who wouldn’t?

Before he can counter with his usual Adrian-brand of optimism Nadya catches sight of familiar faces by a fountain of red wine — or she hopes it’s red wine. God she hopes it’s red wine. She waves eagerly and drags Adrian over to socialize.

Brandon chokes on his sip as he takes in her dress. “Well well! Look what the cat dragged in — and this time sans yoga pants. Bless, I’m so proud.”

In the middle of shaking Greer’s hand Adrian falters. Frowns slightly and already has his arm up to push Nadya back. Like there’s nothing more threatening around them than a gay man with an opinion. “I — what are you implying?”

“Relax Adrian. He’s making a joke about last night.”

“Down, boy-o,” Greer joins in on the teasing, “not that the guard dog routine isn’t mad sexy. We’re just glad to see our girl made it to the actual event.”

Nadya huffs. “I wasn’t that drunk.” The couple exchange an eye roll and even she has a hard time resisting the sass of their combined stare. “Okay, okay! So I was… kinda hammered.”

“Well I’ll give them that one. You originally passed out in Kamilah’s bed.”

It’s something everyone but Nadya seems to find extremely funny. Namely because she doesn’t remember that but she can still hear the voice she’d hallucinated clear as day. It makes her hesitate and think twice about taking a glassful of the fountain’s spoils.

At least her friends are getting along. At least she has friends.

Not long after Brandon waves over a younger woman and introduces her as his twin sister and their vampire connection, Megan. Age difference aside Nadya can definitely see the resemblance but can’t help herself when she feels a little sorry for Brandon’s fate. For the faded freckles on his cheeks and the lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

Megan and Adrian trade comments on vampire life over the last two decades — he offers her and Brandon and Greer a place to stay in New York should they ever need it. There’s a strangely somber air in how the trio thanks him — like a sigh of relief connects them all body and mind.

Greer manages to coax one more drink into her the same way he coaxes her out onto the dance floor. Everything shines with flickering candlelight and the collected jewels and precious metals from all of human history. It’s wonderful, it’s beautiful, it’s magical.

And everyone — every single person — is filled with the same kind of joy and carefree abandon. For a little bit there’s no Feral outbreak in the heart of the city, there’s no fearing for her life or missing her old apartment and missing best friend.

There’s nothing else in the entire world but this Ball, the people attending it, and the memories made.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!” Nadya announces; uses the spins she’s getting in the head to carry her momentum away from Greer to where Megan is ready to trade partners as well. The music has taken a turn for the boisterous — some Celtic ballad accompanied by an impromptu song from a group of rugged-dressed Highlander attendees.

She reaches out — her fingertips brush the other vampire’s — then the dizziness overtakes her and Nadya feels like she’s hurtling through the sky in freefall.

Comes back to herself to find the decor that was on the other side of the room now much closer. And Kamilah’s hands hold her against the rushing wave in her head.

She wants to laugh — wants to share in the joy of the moment with the one person she wants to make smile more than anything else in the world — but like always Kamilah just leaves her breathless, gasping as they move through the weaving dancers effortlessly.

“Perhaps you’ve had a tad too much wine.” Kamilah admonishes without heat behind her words.

“I’m perfectly sobe — ack!” The word morphs into a desperate cry as Kamilah’s grip slackens. Feigns like she’s going to let Nadya go when she definitely doesn’t have the ability to stand on her own two feet right now. She clings on so hard she can feel every woven fiber of her red dress.

“You were saying?”

“Humans get dizzy, Kamilah. It’s a real thing.”

“Ah, yes. How forgetful of me.”

If you ruin this moment I’ll never forgive you, Nadya thinks to herself — actually takes her own advice for once and just loses all thought and worry in the way Kamilah sweeps her along the floor to the beat. Where their skirts clash like fire and ice but never so much that she can’t feel the solid presence of the woman holding her steady.

When the dance ends a gathering in the middle of the floor all comes together to take hands. Kamilah pulls them away; out into the conversational talkers and wallflowers. It’s eerie how the vampire simply watches Nadya catch her breath — a beauty she’s still foreign to.

“Drink.”

Nadya looks up to see Kamilah holding a glass out to her. She can feel the coolness of the water sliding down her throat, serving as a reminder of just how flustered she actually is.

She remembers at the last second to not wipe her mouth with the back of her arm. Manages a fluttering smile. “T-Thanks.”

Electricity zips through her body then — Kamilah’s touch lifting her chin towards the crystal chandeliers overhead. It reminds her of only a few hours ago in a way her body never got to recover from. A thousand candles lit in her belly all at the same time. Luckily she has the dance to mask her reaction.

All just so the woman can wipe a stray drop of water from the corner of her mouth.

Conversation, girl, come on! She could ask Kamilah any number of things. Familiar faces, balls gone by, even the last time she danced to something so jovial. But there’s a big stone wall between her thoughts and her mouth and it makes Nadya’s heart sink.

“I…”

It takes her a moment to realize — when she no longer feels Kamilah’s touch — that she was the one who pulled away.

“Yes, Nadya? Something to say?”

Shallow, almost panicked breaths… all it would take is a simple step forward…

“I need some air.”

With her skirts gathered in both hands Nadya turns and practically runs in the other direction.

Distantly the clock strikes midnight.

The Ball had opened up to the rest of the castle and surrounding grounds sometime in the middle of her dancing. It was like there was nowhere she could be alone — no place she could feel safe. Surrounded by strangers and knowing that there were enemies among them paired with the churning emotions that couldn’t make sense of her body has Nadya on the brink of breaking down.

The night air does more than beckon her forward. It screams at her, demands she find peace out there where it could be most dangerous. It’s not rational but still she follows — away from the crowds and their pleasant evenings in directions only her feet can understand.

When she comes to it’s in a haze of muddled thoughts in a varietal English she can’t quite catch. Finds her hands grasping onto the metal rungs of a bridge overlooking a dim pond. Through the barest moonlight hiding behind clouds overhead she can see koi flit this way and that; too deep down to stir the surface where fallen flower petals hang abandoned.

A hand rubs soft circles along her exposed back — voice crooning in her ear deep and dark like a cello.

“There there… are you coming back now?”

Nadya snaps back to herself all at once, feels her heart lurch in her chest. The voice chuckles and the hand pulls back.

“Indeed you are. This is where you are told to breathe, yes? In through the mouth, out through the nose… no, that isn’t right.”

Isseya leans back against the same railing; the trails of her dress trying desperately to catch on the faint night breeze.

Or — maybe it isn’t Isseya. Not with the strange kindness in her eyes and the way her lips hold no withheld scorn. It’s definitely like she’s looking at a twin — or a mirror image reflected back in every way. Definitely not the viper from the ballroom… right?

The vampire taps her olive nose; reminds Nadya to breathe in so deep it burns and only when she feels like her lungs are going to burst through her corset does she let it all out.

“Very good,” praises her companion.

She expects Isseya to try and begin a conversation, but instead the woman just… watches her breathe. She seems almost fixated, fascinated by it. Eyes raking down to see her compressed midriff rise and fall. She mimics Nadya twice before seemingly becoming bored with the act. Watches passively instead with an unblinking stillness.

When she has to take in less and less to ground herself is when Isseya speaks again.

“May I ask what that was?”

“What —” Nadya takes in one last gulp of air, “— what was what?”

She’s not trying to deny it; not like it’s the first time she’s ever had a panic attack so strong she blacked out a bit. But the look on Isseya’s face surprises her.

“You’re… I mean — you’re immortal and you’ve never had a panic attack?”

The vampire gives a “ha” of surprise.

“From what would I panic?”

“Uh… stakes, garlic, the sun?”

“No.”

Nothing like staring eternal life in the face and feeling immensely inadequate. But the woman contradicts even her thoughts — still looking at her with what almost feels like awe.

“Such violent reactions to fear I’m not unaccustomed to. But you caused your own fear, did you not? Beautiful…”

Only Nadya doesn’t find it very beautiful at all. When Isseya reaches out as if to touch her again she steps back — manages to keep her footing despite the curve of the bridge. She doesn’t even want to think about the holy hellfire that would rain down on her for ruining a Lacroix dress with pond water.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Forgive me, mortal child.”

“Nadya,” she corrects, “my name is Nadya.”

“Nadya, then. A beautiful name for a beautiful creature. I told Valdas, you know, that you must be a sign sent for us.”

She says it so calmly. Maybe it’s meant to be that way — meant to entice her to know more. It works.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands braced on the railing and face turned away; Nadya doesn’t have to see her to hear the way her voice wavers.

“‘Nadya’ is a name which means hope. Something which my partner and I have lost more and more of with each passing year. You expect the continual passing of years when you Turn, you know. You accept the hunger. Say farewell to the warmth of a sunrise. I even reconciled the knowledge that everyone I would ever know would rot in the ground beneath my feet. But… no one tells you the little things you lose along the way.”

It’s more emotion than she’s ever seen from a vampire — a thought she’s almost angry at herself for having if it didn’t feel so true. Every word Isseya says is heavy with time. They weigh her down and down, deeper and deeper until she wonders how she’s not looking down at the woman from the center of the planet.

She doesn’t know what to say — there’s nothing to say. She’s mortal—finite, dreadfully finite—and doesn’t even have the ability to comprehend what Isseya must be feeling.

And as an extremely empathetic person that’s not something she’s used to. It makes her fumble half-words; noises that definitely aren’t language.

Yet when she finally isn’t burning with shame enough to look at Isseya again she finds the vampire offering her a smile. A weary, dreary thing… but sometimes the thought behind a gesture is more important than the gesture itself.

“Take your time.”

So she does. Actually thinks about what she wants to say before she says it. Makes her wonder briefly what life would be like if she did that more often.

Finally, “Whatever you lost doesn’t sound little at all.”

“No, I suppose he wasn’t.” replies Isseya; makes Nadya go flush with surprise.

“Can I ask who…?”

“His name was Cynbel.”

“Oh. And he was…?”

“My lover, but that is not unlike saying the night sky is only what we see with our eyes.”

Nadya isn’t there to judge anyone. Still, she’s surprised. Hadn’t the other man — Valdas, that was his name — called her his ‘Priestess?’

“Did you, uhm,” she bites her lip, “I mean did you meet Valdas pretty soon after losing him?”

Not a second passes; Nadya almost misses Isseya’s expression change — darken, deepen.

“I forget not everyone is aware of our story, sometimes. Most hear us, our title — Trinity — and simply know. There was a time the word was banned in polite conversation lest it bring down the mood of a party or cause wistful waifs to wilt.

“I’ve forgotten now who coined the name. Cynbel might know… he was quite proud of it. He always cared about titles, you see. Not that it wasn’t apt. The three of us were always together; see one and the other two were not far behind. You know the saying ‘bad things come in threes?’ Probably derived from us.”

That’s when Nadya catches on, gives an “ooooh” of understanding.

“You, Valdas, and Cynbel. You were —”

“We three have a love that may very well burn longer than the stars above us. He used to say that. Loved us hard enough to make us believe it. When he passed it truly felt like the heavens would crumble down without all three of us to hold them up.”

She doesn’t ask what happened though the question burns through her against the cold night air. Maybe it’s something Kamilah can answer — she seems to know them enough. Though that reminds Nadya of their meeting and Adrian — and whatever happened last night.

“I’m sorry for your loss. For both of your losses.”

“Keep your grief. It’s all hollow in the end. We will always be in mourning; every second of every night we must live without him. Because indeed; we must live even if he is no longer with us.

That is the blood oath to which my god and I are bound.”

And doesn’t that make things take a turn for the weird. Makes Nadya have to school herself carefully even if Isseya can hear the change in her heartbeat. Who wouldn’t hear something like that and find it ominous, though? Like a seer’s omen.

Before she can make up some kind sympathy to offer Isseya reaches out — strokes the tip of her nail along the curve of Nadya’s jawline. Yes, it’s totally the night and my bare shoulders making me shiver, she tells herself, totally not whatever weird, semi-erotica is going on here…

“Apologize.”

Nadya blinks out of her stupor. “What?”

“Apologize, I said,” there’s a brief sting, she hardly even notices, but when Isseya pulls back her hand there’s a bead of blood on her fingertip, “for failing to placate me with your undesired grief.”

That’s more than enough. Only when she tries to move away there’s a hand wrapped around her throat that squeezes; takes the words right out of her mouth quite literally.

She didn’t even see the vampiress move. Not a blur or a flash of fang. She simply wasn’t and then she was. And everything in her eyes says Nadya is right to be terrified.

“Go on,” squeezing harder, bringing them so close she can smell Isseya’s honeysuckle breath, “apologize.”

Nadya fumbles around the words; moves her mouth with increasing frantic desperation when no sound, no air, not even a fleck of spittle wants to come out. I’m sorry — I’m sorry!

A tear rolls down her cheek, tickles the edge of her chin and makes her keen in a whimper as Isseya leans forward and flicks the tip of her tongue to catch it. When she pulls back that familiar red stare lurks in the woman’s eyes.

She lets go. Nadya fumbles, falls hard on her backside on the bridge with both hands around her neck like she’s trying to make sure all her skin is still there. She watches up in horror as Isseya licks her lips in satisfaction.

“Your apology is accepted… even if it was pitiful. I expect better from you next time.”

Next time isn’t so much spoken as felt like a breeze; the vampire gone between rapid and pounding beats of her heart. With all her dress it takes Nadya several attempts to collect herself, to scramble up and wipe away her tears and dash in a mad rush towards the castle.

Adrian, she needs to find Adrian.

Marcel’s a generous host — happy not only to help her find Adrian but to escort her around the castle himself. He’s a sweet boy, really, even if he’s old enough to be her great-great-great-many-greats grandfather. Somehow he’s managed to keep his childish sensibilities about him all these centuries.

It dissolves her fear a little. Makes it easier for Nadya to brush off his concern when he points out she keeps rubbing her neck. “I think I made a few mosquitoes pretty happy,” she jokes and all is well again.

He’s not upstairs in the apartment — “He mentioned he lost his key, I think?” — and they might be getting a little off-track when Marcel stops them in the conservatory to show her his collection of night-blooming flowers among what appears to be a cigar-and-whiskey party.

Then he snaps and there’s an invisible lightbulb over his head. Marcel grabs Nadya’s hand and takes off at full youthful speed down a staircase.

“Where are we going?!”

“I know where he is!”

Adrian’s favorite room in the castle is, apparently, the library. Only Marcel doesn’t give Nadya a chance to process her fear of the place before dragging her along inside.

The doors are open, velvet rope cast aside, and they aren’t the only ones milling about. It’s not just a library but an entire museum inside; she barely has time to glance at various glass cases and pedestals while Marcel’s hunt comes to a close.

She doesn’t mean to upset them both in the way she hurtles herself at Adrian, knocking him off balance for a brief moment before his arms come around her. Nadya’s grown used to not caring about the lack of body heat — the solid presence of Adrian is enough to calm her racing heart.

Marcel, however, notices.

“Mademoiselle Nadya… comment ça va?”

Even as her lingering fear subsides the look Nadya flashes up to Adrian tells him all he needs to know.

“I think she just got overwhelmed,” he tells Marcel, whose distress grows. He grabs Nadya’s hand in both of his and kisses her knuckles.

“I hate to know someone was unhappy at one of my parties…” He laments. It’s enough for the part of her so used to pleasing others to force on a smile and extricate herself from her friend to offer the little lord a tight hug.

“I’m having a wonderful time,” she says truthfully, “but Adrian’s right. Not knowing anyone just sort of got to me.”

“How can I ever make it up to you?”

“There’s nothing to make up!”

She holds him at arms’ length and together they smile. Like a miracle she watches his cheeriness return.

“Promettez-vous?”

Hopefully she’s understanding him from context. “I promise.”

She hates lying, even if it was necessary. When Marcel scampers off at the voice of someone he recognizes her smile falls away. Turns to Adrian with tears welling up in her eyes again.

He reaches and pulls Nadya into a tight hug. Kisses the top of her head and rubs his solid hands over her shivering shoulders. “What happened?”

The cliffnotes version makes her sound a little batty. When she struggles to continue, shuffling from foot to foot, Adrian silently coaxes them to continue his stroll through the library’s many objects on display. He’s gotten to know her habits really well, hasn’t he.

“So one minute she’s comforting me — and I guess vice versa — and then the next…” Nadya finishes by showing him the soft bruises on her neck; each in the perfect indent of Isseya’s fingertips. She’s just lucky the other woman hadn’t drawn blood, maybe.

Adrian’s scowl slackens; he pulls them into an alcove away from the immediate sight of others. Before Nadya can even ask what he’s doing Adrian’s fangs flash through his teeth and he pricks the pad of his right thumb.

“Who—wha—oi!” His arm around her keeps Nadya from moving away; he reaches out and smears the welling droplets of blood on her neck like that’s just something that totally happens every day for them. “Gross. Adrian — this is definitely not in my contract.”

Yes it makes him grin, and when he lets her go Nadya catches her reflection in a nearby silver shield. The dark smear of blood remains but the purpling bruises fade right before her eyes. “Oh.”

“Not only is it the least I can offer,” and the handkerchief he offers from his tailcoat breast pocket isn’t something she turns down, “but if Kamilah were to see that —”

She should have expected this. “Better to keep the peace.”

Adrian doesn’t say yes or no to it, but essentially — yes.

“I just don’t get why she changed so suddenly.” She also doesn’t get why Adrian apparently slept with her and Valdas, but that part she leaves out.

They resume walking together while Adrian thinks of a suitable answer.

“She told you about the Trinity, right?”

“That there’s supposed to be three but now it’s just her and the other guy?”

“Well, yes — that. But also why they are named — why they’re important enough to have a title like that.”

Together they leave the library stacks behind and venture through a smaller door into what appears to be a portrait hall. None of the paintings contain solo figures — but they all contain the same sort of classical beauty one would expect to find in world-renowned museums. She tries to place some of the faces — either to the guests she’s seen or what she remembers from her History gen-ed — but doesn’t linger on it.

“The Trinity are an incredibly old trio of vampires. Some would say the oldest around… but that’s not entirely the case.” Nadya wants to ask why he felt the need to play his own Devil’s advocate; instead chooses to let him continue as her eyes sweep over every frozen expression staring down at them.

“No one really knows when they were Turned. Kamilah told me once that they had centuries under their belts while she was still mortal.”

“Scary old vampires, got it. What’s the point?”

“Their age is the point, Nadya. Age is extremely important in what little universal culture we all share. It’s something deeper than just giving your elders respect. It proves an incredible strength, knowledge, in some cases a vast accumulation of wealth… and the cunning to have survived this long without getting killed. And trust me — there were plenty of chances for that to happen.

“The Trinity have always been. Like… how humans look at the pyramids or the Colosseum. And sure they’ve been under the radar for a while but even I remember a time when the very mention of them as a unit meant there was something awful coming on the horizon.”

Nadya stops them in front of a portrait of three. These faces she recognizes — two of them, anyway. The clothing is stiff; the subjects stiffer.

Isseya’s hair is longer but the way tendrils of black hang in her face makes Nadya remember the events of the garden with a shiver. She sits with grace, one hand resting on the lap of her ivory dress and the other lazily reaching upwards to clasp that of Valdas’ where he stands behind her. What the toga was hiding the pressed Victorian suit he’s immortalized in reveals. Somehow the artist managed to capture the almost predatory potential of power hidden in his cut figure.

The face she doesn’t know has taken a knee on the opposite side of Isseya’s chair. His fingers rest over hers just barely entwined. His face is young, strong. Blond hair pulled back in a tie that hangs over his shoulder is an almost feminine way.

Underneath the polished golden frame sits a plaque: ‘The Montes Estate,’ it reads, and below it the date 1876.

“Valdas, Isseya, and…”

“Cynbel.” Nadya finishes for him; draws a look of surprise from Adrian.

“Is that his name? I never knew.”

“Isseya told me. She really misses him.” Even if she’s missing a few screws.

“They both do. And I guess I get it. To be with the same person — the same people — for thousands of years. Only to lose one…”

As his voice trails off Nadya looks up. He, too, looks like the painting in his own way. He’ll look like this forever. Hopefully not as sad; not as weighed down by the way he tries to carry the world on his shoulders… but the same Adrian that stands at her side will probably stand over her grave.

Yikes. Morbid, much?

“I’m sorry.” He takes her hand and squeezes. “Because there’s nothing I can do.”

Nadya’s heart sinks. “About how she attacked me, you mean.”

“Yes. The Ball is a time of peace and, generally, everyone upholds to the rules. Except —”

“The rules don’t apply to the Trinity.” She guesses, but doesn’t get a gold star for being right. She’s not mad at him — not even disappointed. To be honest she hadn’t needed him to do something about it so much as just… be there.

And that is something Nadya knows he will always do. He’ll always be there.

They continue down the line of paintings. Nadya helps Adrian keep his mind off of what he considers his failure by asking him about the people, places, the moment in time that helps bring life to the canvas.

“Marcel’s in this one!” She gestures to one behind them where Marcel — younger of course but he doesn’t look it — in decorative and splendid golden armor. “He didn’t actually go to battle, right?”

“No, it was made for the portrait.” There’s a distant, misty look in Adrian’s eyes as he fixates on the taller figure behind their friend.

Nadya peers to read the plaque. “‘Monsieur Marcellus Claude Philippe Lafayette’ — what a mouthful — ‘and General Banner Westbrook VI.’ Banner… I’ve heard that name before.”

“The library was named in his honor. Marcel took his death hard. They… never really saw eye-to-eye, but it’s that same concept of spending lifetimes with the same person.”

But when she looks up to comfort him Nadya’s surprised to find him staring at the end of the room; at something mounted on the wall but hidden by shadow.

Adrian’s hand closes tighter on hers — takes Nadya a moment to realize he might not be aware of it. Tighter, tighter, until it’s pretty much impossible for her not to wince.

“Adrian. A—Adrian, you’re hurting me. Hey!”

A snap in his face pulls him out of whatever memory he’s trapped in. Makes him pliant as she pulls their hands apart. The redness fades quickly but there’s a lingering ache in her wrist that Nadya rubs slowly.

“I — I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

Before he can say anything Nadya steps around; makes her way to the last frame with her skirts in her hands. “Nadya — wait —” Adrian calls behind her. It doesn’t make her stop.

Only one painting hangs on the back wall. It’s also the only piece with one subject.

The man stands in grace, one foot forward; everything about his stance exuding not only confidence but command. Dark brown hair falls over his face and shoulders in perfect waves — the kind that would take hours to get these days. The artist captured details Nadya didn’t even consider possible; hairs at the crown of his forehead and pores in his perfect skin. Each individual chain link upon his conqueror’s armor.

She’s beholden with wonderment at the beauty of the man until the background comes to her attention. Feels her stomach churn when she sees the full moon behind his head actually appearing to pour moonlight down the canvas. Finds her trembling fingers covering a strangled sound she doesn’t immediately recognize as hers at the sight of faceless, naked corpses in a pile beneath the dais he prostrates upon.

Adrian’s hands come to weigh on her shoulders solemnly. Nadya tries to make the image go away; closes her eyes but it’s burned into the back of her eyelids like a brand. She wants to tear it to pieces, wants to shred the fibers strand by strand…

But somehow she just knows that even if the entire castle went up in flames this painting would remain untouched. Perfectly sanguine until the end of time.

“You know what’s really stupid?” asks Nadya wetly; takes Adrian’s handkerchief to dab at the tears at the corners of her eyes.

The painting’s presence draws Adrian to a whisper. “What’s that?”

She turns and tucks the cloth back into Adrian’s breast pocket. Brushes her hair out of her eyes with a sigh.

“I spent so much time on this stupid makeup and I keep crying.”

Adrian’s first reaction is poising himself to strike; ready to do what he can to make her feel better. It’s so wonderful and the image behind her is so awful that Nadya’s clashing emotions manage the only thing that makes sense: laughter.

Adrian first witnesses her, confused, before he offers his own little chuckle. It’s hollow and forced; when he thinks she isn’t looking she sees his gaze flicker to the monstrosity behind her and grow cold.

Wordlessly they leave the portrait room, then the library. Adrian offers a few polite waves to people unknown to Nadya; mentions something about getting back to the ballroom in enough time to see some performance.

She’s not really paying attention — no matter how hard she tries his words just grow fuzzy like television static. But that’s preferable to the voices echoing between her ears she tries desperately to pretend don’t exist.

“Rise, my Beloved Soldier. Rise and know your King has witnessed your loyalty to Him.”

“Thank you, my King. I am humbled.”

“My Beloved Soldier… my Beloved Adrian.”

Nadya’s at least mostly-percent sure that Kamilah has better things to think about than her tiny mortal self. Tells herself that when they find her back in the ballroom and Kamilah seems to be actively choosing to look everywhere but at her.

Until she notices the smallest smudge in Nadya’s makeup. Then Kamilah is on her, chilly hands cupping her cheeks and turning her head this way and that to examine her state.

“What. happened.” It takes Nadya a second to realize the growl is directed not at her but at Adrian. He silently shakes his head and offers a gentle touch to pry his companion off of her.

Still Kamilah persists; locks her eyes onto Nadya’s and when she speaks it’s soft yet somehow powerful enough to chase the unwanted voices from her mind.

“Are you unharmed?”

Nadya gives a shuddering exhale and nods. “Yeah, Kamilah. I’m fine. I — listen, about earlier —”

“Later.” Kamilah cuts her off curtly. Like she’s been replaced by a doppelgänger. It leaves Nadya feeling like an accessory as the vampires turn to confide in one another.

“Where have you been? You were the one who arranged this during the Ball — you couldn’t even bother to show up on time?”

Before Adrian can defend himself a figure starts towards them from the middle of a crowd. He may be dressed like every picture Nadya’s ever seen of Henry VIII but there’s no mistaking that greasy grin.

Lester claps a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. Squeezes until his knuckles are white and Nadya flinches out of sympathy.

“There you are, Raines my boy,” he practically sneers, “and here we were worried you had better things to do.”

Kamilah says nothing. Adrian pries Lester’s hand from his person.

“I was occupied elsewhere.”

None of them miss how Lester’s eyes travel to Nadya; look her up and down and linger on her chest. She’s starting to consider that his typical form of greeting.

The other vampire snorts. “I bet you were. But you were the one who wanted to ruin a good party with Council business, so let’s get it over with shall we?”

Lester waves two fingers — draws their attention to the others approaching.

Vega’s black suit and red tie somehow don’t do anything for his charming smile but it’s the sight of the Baron’s curled upper lip that sends a whip of panic through Nadya. Make her take a step closer to Kamilah out of some subconscious need to hide behind her dress.

Beside them strides sex on legs; thick waves of hair cascading down her shoulders and the sheer material of her dress catching the lights just enough to see the lingerie beneath.

If anyone’s wing-tip eyeliner could actually stab a man it would be hers: Priya Lacroix.

“I had to turn down a Bulge Magazine sandwich for this shit,” the designer snaps, “so let’s get it the fuck over with before I lose my appetite.”

The Baron fixates on Nadya with a growl.

“Funny. You look just like a cunt I locked up.”

She is so over crying tonight.

“Yeah, well, go screw yourself.”

“Me~ow!” Priya pushes the Baron aside carelessly, ignores the glare he shoots her way, and pulls Nadya out from behind Kamilah to appraise her properly.

“I know I complained about having to make you something at the last minute Adrian… but I take it back. She looks positively yummy.”

Before Priya can even show her fangs she’s moved aside. Kamilah takes the initiative this time to protect Nadya on her own. If she plans on arguing the thought is dashed the moment Priya looks into the older vampire’s eyes. Doesn’t stop her from giving a petulant huff.

“Whatever…”

Vega, however, ignores Nadya’s presence entirely.

“The point stands. We ought to take advantage of this opportunity to discuss certain Council matters.”

“Must it be now?” Adrian asks tersely. The look on Vega’s face says it all. “Fine. But not here.”

Vega agrees. “I’ve already cleared out a parlor for us. Come along.”

Just as Adrian shakes off his fellow Council member’s grasp there’s a scream somewhere at the far end of the ballroom. Loud enough to cause a distraction and awful enough that the Council gathered actually looks towards the commotion.

The orchestra stops mid-chord as a chorus of cries and noises of distress begin to sound. The dance floor empties in the blink of an eye as the dancing vampires rush away from something.

“Stay here.” Kamilah hisses. She and Adrian push the others aside in an attempt to help. Against her wishes Nadya slips out of the uncomfortable presence of the other vampires and around the crowd to edge closer.

A young woman lies, collapsed and prone, in the middle of the floor. She’s seizing; convulses on her stomach. The foul smell of rot fills the fragrant air.

Then the face twitches around and Nadya recognizes her in horror.

“Megan!”

At the same time that Nadya pushes her way forward two familiar faces break away from the crowd opposite. Brandon fumbles and skids on his knees to his twin’s side while Greer kneels behind him, mortified.

Nadya’s skirts billow around her as she ignores Adrian’s distant cry of “Nadya, no!” and brushes Megan’s hair away from her clammy features.

Her skin is greying; veins growing black under Brandon’s touch.

“Meg—Meggie what’s wrong? What’s happening?” He hauls his sister’s head into his lap. That’s when Nadya catches sight of a violent bite mark on her shoulder. It oozes puss and black ichor. Megan tries and fails to respond when she starts foaming at the mouth.

Greer looks around with wild eyes.

“Help! Is someone gonna fuckin’ help her?! What the fuck!”

Nadya fumbles in a panic. Doesn’t know what to do, ends up looking to where Adrian and Kamilah are keeping a very purposeful distance.

“Help her!” She surprises herself by screaming. Adrian moves to step forward but Kamilah jerks him back almost violently.

“Don’t you dare.” The woman seethes — and Nadya grows feverish with panic when she watches Kamilah look upon Megan and Brandon with an expression foreign to her face.

“Kamilah —”

“Adrian Raines, I forbid it.”

“What?!” Brandon tries to hold Megan’s head still, tries to hold her jaw open as her fangs grow and warp before his eyes, “Why won’t you help?!”

Adrian stays put but reaches out; beckons Nadya away.

“Nadya, please. Please get over here.”

“No! Not until you help her!” I can’t believe I’m seeing this.

“She’s beyond help now!” shouts Kamilah. She draws the attention of the entire Ball — takes a deep breath and steels herself to push down an emotion Nadya didn’t think she was capable of.

Fear.

“Nadya — for Christ’s sakes.” He grabs her in a blur and Nadya finds herself wrapped in his arms.

All around vampires and mortals stand and resign themselves to witness as Megan’s seizures increase. As her skin grows dark and chalky and Greer yanks back Brandon when he fails to hold her down.

“What’s happening?” Nadya gasps. Adrian clutches her tighter and his words flood ice through her veins.

“She’s Turning Feral.”

#choices fanfiction #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #kamilah x mc #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: isseya

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elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

A God Of Stone

"Boss, you have an incoming call from the Doctor."

"Yup." The line clicks over the speakers. "Hey Honey. I thought you were at-"

"Tony. I need help." Stephen interrupts, sounding a little out of breath. "Some rogue sorcerer's summoned a monster and I can't handle both it and the rogues."

Tony goes toward the window and taps his housing unit before jumping out the window, the phone call automatically transferring to his suit. He asks FRIDAY to send the rest of the Avengers to Stephen's location (sans Peter and Harley since they were at school), and as soon as he finds his husband, he lands in front of him and fires his repulsors at the monster. The rest of the team arrive little by little, the first ones being Wanda and Vision. In fact, everyone arrived before Quill and Scott. Which was kind of surprising since those two were usually one of the first ones on the scene. Then again...

"Porcupine! You and Thumbelina better not be playing hide the cannoli!" Tony says over the comm.

"We didn't get that far." Quill replies back through the comm. "Thanks for that by the way."

Tony grins behind his mask as he shoots another repulsor at the monster, something the engineer was sure came straight out of a horror movie. It was like a large feral dog that was zombified and had some weird gray smoke coming out of its mouth. Not like smoke from a fire, but magical. Harley would like it.

"Tony, can you help with the rogues? I can take care of the monster." Stephen says and the elder man nods before flying off.

Stephen just needed to banish the beast, but the spell would take a few moments. As he conjures up the spell, the monster snarls dangerously and stands low to the ground, its mouth lighting up as more of the gray smoke hovered around its mouth. Stephen just needed a few more moments and then he could cast the spell, but then the beast opened its mouth. Everything happened slowly in that moment. The gray smoke collected into a condensed ball before shooting out at Stephen, and the sorcerer threw out his own spell right before he was pushed to the ground, the air rushing out of his lungs. Dazed, he watched as the condensed ball of gray, dense energy struck Quill (who had been the one to push Stephen) who get thrown onto the ground, and then the celestial jumps back up to his feet. He holds out his guns to shoot an approaching rogue, now that the monster was successfully banished, and Stephen watches in horror as the god stiffens. Stone gray covers Quill's body, leaving a perfect statue of the man after just seconds. Natasha barely runs up to the rogue in time to knock him out before he casts a spell to destroy Quill's petrified body, thus Quill himself, and then actually realizes what she had prevented and stops.

The rest of the Avengers ended up having to take care of the rest of the rogues because the Sorcerer Supreme was frozen in his position on the ground. Their resident god had pushed Stephen out of the way of a petrification spell and took it instead, and now he had turned to stone.

It should have been him.

"Oh my god." Natasha whispers as Tony flies back over to Stephen and helps him to his feet.

"Tesoro!" He gently grabs Stephen's face, and then follows the man's gaze when he doesn't get his attention. When he sees Quill's petrified form, the blood runs from his face. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

Wanda was the next to discover the group and she immediately covered her mouth. One by one, the team gathered together and discovered their frozen comrade, until finally, Scott flew over and grew to normal size as he jumped off his flying ant. He looks at them curiously when they give him looks of pity, and when they move away from Quill, Scott nearly fell to his knees in despair.

With great care, they took Quill back to the tower and placed him on the training floor, safely away from anything that could be thrown, and Stephen threw himself into his books. He was desperate to find a way to reverse Quill's petrification; not to relieve himself of his guilt, but for Scott and Cassie. Especially Scott.

He almost never left Quill's side, and constantly stood in front of the celestial to touch stone features. His hands either touching Quill's face or reaching up to touch the grooves of petrified hair.

"He's cold." Scott says quietly. "He's not supposed to be cold."

Quill ran warm, like a furnace, so it was understandable that Scott was disturbed by the feeling of cold stone. He always talked about how the celestial was the one who kept him warm at night, wrapped around Scott like his own personal living blanket. Everyone was disturbed by the sight if they were honest. Some of the team even took to training elsewhere because they couldn't stand to see Scott grieve over the celestial. Cassie was devastated as well, but she actually stayed away because it hurt her to see Quill the way he was, and how Scott was inconsolable.

"I'm looking for a way to reverse this." Stephen tells Scott one day. "If it were my husband..."

Scott looks at the sorcerer and laughs hollowly. "You know?"

Stephen points at the ring on Quill's finger, which had also turned to stone. "I saw it a few days ago but I wasn't positive until I saw yours." He then motions towards Scott's hand.

The thief looks back to his petrified husband. "Am I bad luck? My marriage with Maggie failed, nothing really happened with Hope, and now Quill..."

"No. What Quill did had nothing to do with you. He took a spell that was meant for me." Stephen says quietly. "I promise to find a way to fix this. It's the least I can do."

"...I need him."

Stephen only nodded. He knew. They all knew. They all saw the difference Quill made in Scott's life. But now he felt cold. The bed was too big, the nights too cold, and the world too big. Scott had grown so used to Quill's presence that he hated being without it. He wanted the bed to be filled by a second body, for the sometimes unbearable heat that came off Quill in waves to envelop him again, and he definitely wanted to be held again. The closest he got to any of that was to wrap his arms around the neck of his stone husband and use his imagination. An imagination that failed him. Quill was hard in all the wrong ways. He missed the firm muscles, the gentle way Quill's lips brushed against his neck. He missed his laughter, and the soft purr that came from deep in his chest when he rested. He missed everything that made Quill the person he loved and needed by his side, but all that was left was a stone shell.

A week turned into two...three...and then a full month had passed before Stephen even came across a hint of a possibility of a reversal spell. During that time, Scott had fallen into depression. He barely slept as nightmares of Quill being destroyed plagued his dreams. He ate less even though the others tried to get him to eat something, and he only ate enough to get them to stop. He lost a little bit of weight, there were dark bags under his eyes...he just looked awful. Cassie only visited once, and that was when they first brought Quill home. It wasn't because she didn't care, but because she did. Quill was as much a father to her as Scott was and she hated seeing him in stone. It was wrong to her and she almost regretted the first visit because if this wasn't fixable, that's not how she wanted to remember him. Cassie missed the security Quill provided just as much as Scott did.

As much as Scott wanted to hope that he would get Quill back, he also knew that it was only a small possibility. It might not work. He was already preparing himself for the worst outcome. It was very likely he would never get the love of his life back.

His light. In both the figurative and literal sense. Quill was a Celestial, a god of light. Something else Scott desperately missed.

"Scott...can you step aside please?" Stephen asks and the thief sighs as he nods and gives the sorcerer the space he needs.

He had come up with a spell that was supposed to turn Quill back to normal, and the main reason he needed Scott to move was because they didn't know how close the celestial was to shooting his guns. If the spell worked, Stephen didn't want anyone to get hurt. Once Scott is at a safe distance, Stephen forms the spell and sends it at Quill's chest, orange sparks spreading through the stone before disappearing.

A few seconds pass.

"Well?" Scott pleads.

Stephen remains quiet for a few more moments before looking through the few books he brought with him when nothing further happens. "Maybe I missed something. I'll keep looking."

Scott's shoulders slump in dejection. "Stephen...maybe you should get some sleep."

"I could say the same about you." Stephen replies quietly.

"I know...I know." Scott rubs his eyes. "...I'm starting to wonder if this is-"

A loud crack echoes through the room, and both Stephen and Scott look back toward the petrified man in the room. Cracks begin to spread throughout the stone and then suddenly crumble away, revealing flesh and clothing, and Quill gasps loudly. He lowers his arms and looks around the training floor in confusion, and then looks at the two other gobsmacked men in the room.

"How did I get here?" Quill asks.

A strangled noise escapes from Scott's mouth as he slowly approaches his husband, and Quill gives him a strange look when he slowly lifts a shaking hand to place on his cheek. Scott chokes on a sob when he feels warmth and soft skin, and immediately throws his arms around Quill's neck and buries his face into it. The celestial reciprocates the hug, albeit a bit confused, and Scott's skin sang at the contact. The moment strong arms finished wrapping around him, the thief basked in Quill's smell of leather and space as the coldness in his very soul was chased away.

"Did I miss something?" Quill asks Stephen, who was watching the scene with no small amount of relief.

"Do you remember being hit?"

"Yeah...then I got back up. But now I'm here."

"You were hit by a spell. One that turned you to stone."

It was then that Scott pulled one of his arms away from around Quill's neck and curled his hand into a fist to bring down on the taller man's chest. "You're not allowed to do that! You're not allowed to propose to me, to marry me, and then turn into stone! It's been a whole month you asshole!"

Then Scott properly broke down into silent tears. The moment Quill felt the wetness on his neck, he tightened his hold on Scott and brought one of his hands up to cup the back of his head. Stephen leaves after quietly letting them know that he's going to find Cassie and send her down, and the celestial pushes Scott away a couple of minutes later to look at him and wipe away his tears.

"I leave you alone for five seconds and you turn into a mess. How have you survived until now?" Quill says with a smirk and is immediately rewarded with another thud of Scott's fist against his chest.

"You're not allowed to joke about this. But to answer your stupid question...it was because I didn't know what I was missing until you." The younger thief sniffs and presses himself back up against Quill. "Please don't take that away from me again."

"I'm sorry sugar." Quill mutters into dark hair before kissing Scott's temple.

"Papa!" The pirate barely looks up in time to catch the second body that throws itself at him, and tightens his hold on both Scott and Cassie.

"We're turning into a real mess aren't we?" He asks and Scott sighs against his neck.

"We might give Tony and them a run for their money at this rate."

"I thought you were a god." Cassie sasses half-heartedly and Quill chuckles.

"I'm immortal. Not invincible. Although I can still take a bit more than everyone else can."

"Shut up Spaceman. You're ruining the moment."

Quill stares toward the elevators for a few quiet minutes and then raises an eyebrow.

"Speaking of moments, I'm pretty sure you just announced we were married to Stephen."

"He figured it out." Scott and Cassie say in unison and the Celestial's chest rumbles in amusement.

"I'm not surprised. Anyone else?"

Both of them shake their heads. No one else knew that they knew of but it wouldn't take much longer. Stephen would probably let it slip to Tony, who in turn might let it slip around one of the kids. If it ended up being Harley, then the news would spread like wildfire. Peter was almost just as bad.

"Oh wait." Cassie says and looks up at Scott and Quill with a meek expression. "Dia knows. I told her."

"Also not surprising." Quill says with another laugh.

#peter quill #scott lang #antlord #ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #supremefamily #cassie lang #mama bear stephen strange #peter parker #harley keener #diana stark strange (oc)#natasha romanov #wanda maximoff

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eyesfixedonthesun22 · 5 years

Text

Black Coffee: Part 5

Summary: Coffee aroma surrounds you as you prepare for a long day of studying in your favorite coffee shop. Your focus is shattered by a handsome stranger demanding a very large favor-pretend to be his girlfriend. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Cursing. Fluff. Smut 18+ Word Count: 1,767 Notes: I wasn’t planning on making this a series...and yet there are now 5 parts and it’s a completed series. Who would have thought?

You never thought the sound of a tent zipper closing could be arousing, yet here you are. Bucky had gently commanded both you and the dogs into the tent while he turned down the campsite for the evening.

“Change into something nice, doll. I’ll be in before you know it.” He pecked your cheek before beginning to secure the rest of your foodstuffs and helping the fire die down a bit more.

Was that supposed to be a joke? Something nice. You kicked yourself for not thinking of something nice while packing for a long weekend in the woods. You rifle through your duffle bag hoping maybe you brought something that would make you feel sexy. A handful of clangs and clattering lets you know Bucky is still puttering around the campsite.

Crap.

“You ready for me, baby girl?” Your bear of a boyfriend ducks his head to enter the tent. Despite the fact he’d purchased some behemoth double-room tent, the doorways were still far too short for him to enter unhindered. He shoos the dogs to the other “room” before turning toward the air mattress. “Holy crap-”

Lacking lingerie, or anything else pleasing to the eye, you gave up and jumped beneath the soft quit (stolen from your bed back home) naked. The look on Bucky’s face has you thinking back to the second time he’d stayed the night at your place.

**************************************************************************************************

The first time he’d spent the night at your apartment should have been perfect. At this point you’d been dating long enough to feel comfortable around one another. You’d made him dinner and settled in to watch a movie. One thing led to another and you asked him to stay. When you moved to the bedroom he’d frozen. The planned night of sin had turned into the two of you staying up well into the morning talking. He was scared to be intimate with you; the first person since his recovery. He wanted to make sure he was treating you properly.

**************************************************************************************************

The second time he spent the night was the night you were silently reminiscing about when Bucky’s shell shocked face appeared in the tent opening. He’d looked at you similarly that night as well. It was thrilling you got the same reaction out of him now as the very first time.

“This certainly is something nice.” He drawls; crawling onto air mattress.

Your lips meet halfway with a gentle exhale. The sweet burnt sugar from s’mores makes him more delicious than usual. You pull gently on the back of his neck, craving the comforting pressure of his body against yours. His lips move from yours down to the soft valley of your neck.

“Picked it out just for you.” You mean for it to sound sultry and confident but it comes out strangled and breathy when he sucks steady pressure into a sweet spot. Bucky pulls the quilt and throws it towards the end of the bed. You thought of protesting, as the night had gotten chilly with the sunset but the fire ignited under your skin more than made up for it.

“I’m so fucking lucky.” His voice is low and focused. Bucky’s stopped kissing your neck and you whine at the loss of contact. He shuts you up quickly by latching onto one of your cold sensitive nipples and rolling it under his tongue.

“I didn’t do so bad myself.” You manage to choke out while he kneads and sucks. You can tell he’s moving further south to assault you where you’re no doubt soaking by this point. It sounds wonderful, but you need him inside of you. “Clothes. Off.”

He chuckles against your skin. By now he’s used to your vocabulary being reduced to single word sentences when you get like this. He gives the current patch of skin under his lips one last suck before shedding all his layers.

“Bucky…”

“Yes, doll.”

“Can we do that thing again?” You can hear the breathing between you both in the tent. The only other sounds coming from the nature outside. Literal crickets. “The thing we did for your birthday.”

You can sense him hesitate at your request. Bucky can do rough and filthy to soft and sensual and everything in between but you could clearly tell the both of you needed more after all the mental distance the final month of your schooling had caused you both. You could see the cogwheels turning behind his facial expression; doing the mental calculations. Taking you from behind meant he couldn’t see your face and reactions; which he was craving. But what you were asking was much more intimate.

“I want you to surround me baby. I want to feel you as much as possible.”

It was as if a light went off. Bucky knew what you needed. He rolls you onto your stomach and places one of the pillows under the curve of your hips. He peppers kisses from the back of your calves, up the curve of your ass, down into the dip of your lower back and comes to stop in the crook of your shoulder. Your skin breaks out in raised chills. Bucky knew better than to assume it was from the crispness in the air. He beamed, taking pride in being the cause.

He positions himself above you with you bracketed between his limbs. You can feel the heat and hardness of him against you. You whimper when he lowers his weight (carefully controlled) onto you; blanketing your exposed skin with his. There was something sexy about feeling the weight and power of your boyfriend over you; knowing all the while what a sweet man lay behind his raw strength.

Reaching around to your front, he parts your folds gently with a single hand to tease with two swirls of his palm to collect your wetness before it’s gone. He smears your arousal down his length before drawing his hips rhythmically back and forth. He’s being a tease and you want to scream. The gentle push and pull of his cock against the ridge of your ass is so close to where you need him most. You can’t angle or redirect with his frame pinning you in place.

“Nuh uh, baby girl. No squirming. This is what you signed up for.”

“Bucky please!”

In any other audience it would sound pathetic or irritated but Bucky felt pure love and trust. He guides his cock into you and feels the tension of your muscles relax under him.

“Why don’t we do this more often, darling?” He stills when he’s seated fully inside you. With your legs straight out behind you, the tightness inside feels nearly overwhelming to Bucky’s cock.

“Special occasions, sweetheart.” You manage to push back a miniscule amount against him. “Move Bucky. Please.”

Bucky sets a slow pace thrusting into your wetness. It’s almost painfully slow. The angle caused by the pillow under your hips allows you to feel every bit of him with a depth not possible in any other position. He brushes and grinds against your g-spot with every drag. Unlike other nights of love-making, the pace doesn’t increase. There is no jackhammering or racing to finish like the quickies necessary in between exam studying and classes. This is pleasant, leisurely and molasses slow.

Bucky brings you closer and closer to your release with every drag and pull inside your taught walls. When he feels you fluttering around him, he stills completely and devours your mouth or neck. After three, maybe four times (you honestly lose count) you’re teetering impossibly close to your finish. Each pause of his movements brings you back from the edge but it does little to quell the raging fire settling lower in your abdomen.

There are no words exchanged, no chorus of dirty talk, no sweet nothings. It’s unnecessary. This is the two of you reconnecting after being apart longer than ever before. You speak with your bodies. Grazes, palming, needy hands wandering to exactly where the other needs without being asked.

Your head is nearly buried in a tangle of your arms and linen beneath your head. Bucky’s full weight rests against your back; slick with shared sweat. His hips don’t leave your backside but instead grind and press making your g-spot sing. You’re both dangerously close.

Bucky reaches his hands below you to spread your swollen lips exposing your clit to the friction of the pillow case. His metal hand encircles your wrists and pins your hands high above your head. The right hand presses heavy pressure against your hip drawing your clit against the fabric below. The pace never changes but the power increases. Your moans spill from you in a near constant stream. Bucky’s own groans have turned into near feral growls with how tight you are around him. He can tell by the pitch of your whimpers and the clenching of your walls you’re right on the edge of your release. Three more particularly long, deep thrusts send you over the precipice of your orgasm. Bucky’s own pulses and fills you two thrusts later.

You’re both overstimulated and sticky. He grinds into you with less precision reveling in how slick and warm you are post release.

“Bucky-”

You don’t get to finish your lazy post-coital praise. He flips you onto your back and spreads your legs as wide as your hips permit. For a moment you lock eyes before he stares at your swollen love-abused core. It should be disarming. You would feel self-conscious if it were anyone else. Bucky holds them apart and dives into the mess you both created.

The sounds coming from your boyfriend buried deep in your cunt were filthy. The creamy shared release coats his tongue and scruff; saturating the hair and surrounding his senses with the evidence of your lovemaking. He revels in it. He probes his tongue inside you, collecting the sweetness before sucking against your clit. It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time before your legs crash around his head and you gush with another overstimulated orgasm; this one stronger than the first.

“That’s my girl.”

You swat his hand away on it’s path to clean his face and draw him into a deep kiss. Tasting the both of you off his tongue is delicious and you moan into the kiss.

“It’s so sweet, Bucky.” He settles on top of the blankets, still hot from the recent activity. He pulls you close to his chest before kissing the back of your head gently.

“Maybe you’ll rethink your teasing next time I add all that sugar to my coffee.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes #camping AU #modern AU #my writing #my fics #black coffee

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angryangryaces · 5 years

Text

Poison

The air smells of rain, burning fuel, and the countless small poisons that circulate in the city, and my scars ache in the cold, a filigree of pain tracing out the lines of my skeleton. My damned, addicted brain is hissing for me to press the button. I don’t listen to it. I throw my bag into the transport and pick a seat.

“Caller” walks us through the job on the way in. It’s straightforward: get in, grab a prototype from the testing labs, get out again. Minimal casualties, which is why he told us to bring hammerblow rounds. Ideal for a pack that doesn’t want to make the news.

One of the others looks at the chain holding my gun to my wrist. Must be a rook. They’ll learn. You can always tell a seasoned wolf; they stop looking at your little tricks and secrets and just let you get on with your job.

As we come in for a landing, I pull my hat down and make sure my kerchief is going to hide my rebreather. Combined with the goggles and the coat, it should be almost impossible for the watching gargs and other cameras to tell who I am. I’ve already checked my gear: submachine gun, machete, grapnels, a few kinds of blasting charge, a couple of different poisons.

***

The windows break the neon light from outside into rainbow fragments, which play over my coat. The stylised illustration of a winged figure giving gifts from heaven isn’t spiritual; it’s marketing. The gifts being dispensed have brand logos on them for the corp’s subsidiaries.

One of them has the stylised atom of Nucleus Energy on it, and my scars flare into pain for a split second. I know it’s psychological. I grit my teeth behind my collar and carry on.

Phase one is a cakewalk. “Caller” had some inside intel that this part of the building was going to be low-security, and that seems to be working fine: the rook, who I’ve learned is called “Mooch”, is keeping the cameras under control, looping some footage so none of them pick us up. It’s not going to last forever, but it doesn’t have to; we’re not under any given eye for too long, and most of the gargs are outside.

The next corridor is wrong. The walls are riddled with bullet holes and carved with a filigree of blade marks. The mutilated bodies of corpsec guards are everywhere, limbs wrenched from their sockets and throats ripped out. Even through my rebreather, I can smell blood and gunfire, mingled with another smell: a thick, animal musk.

I’ve heard the rumours – everyone has, everyone knows this is happening, no matter how hard corpsec try to suppress it – but I hadn’t expected to see it here. You never do, right? It’s always a friend of a friend that runs into this shit.

This is going to suck.

***

“Mooch” is the first to pull the trigger. Not wise, exactly, but I can’t blame them; the dead guards are mute testimony to how deadly these things are, and it’s not like a full pack in tac gear is exactly subtle. Within seconds, everyone else has joined in. Hammerblow rounds patter off its hairy, gore-spattered skin like rain. A couple of them provoke flinches, leave a mark, but don’t slow it much.

It looks like someone took a very large, feral wolf and mashed it up with a man. Its head is mostly canine, although its teeth are larger than any reasonable animal’s, but the rest of it is chimeric: its apelike stance and powerful arms are human, or at least close to it, but its tail and hair are lupine, and its clawed hands aren’t really either. It’s also covered in blood and shreds of what might, once, have been a corpsec uniform.

It howls in fury and leaps at us.

***

According to “Mirai”, it’s all the fault of the veins and the other rich bastards. Says some conspiracy site put her onto it. Supposedly, the reason corpsec guards are so loyal to the veins, so weird and bootlicky, is that the labs figured out some kind of gene treatment, isolated the stuff from dogs that makes them so loyal, and the suits give it to the When it goes too far, they change, when the scum at the top finish draining their humanity.

“Sigismund” says she’s full of shit. Genetics don’t work like that, and even if there was some secret tampering going on, it’d be more likely to lead to cancers than monsters. Mind you, he thinks it’s magic, so I’m not sure how reliable he is on the science. (He’s got a wild set of ideas about that, too. According to him, the beasts are nature unfettered, lashing out at the corp-choked world in a violent frenzy. Says he’s trying to figure out how to use that power constructively. Hasn’t gotten anywhere yet.)

Right now, though, the cause isn’t particularly critical. It doesn’t matter if it was made by mad science or black magic or if creatures like this are just a thing now. It’s bearing down on me, and there isn’t much I can do to stop it.

I hit the button.

***

Not a literal button, of course; jek doesn’t use physical controls. Instead, I mutter the activation phrase, and a pain like cold fire stabs into my veins as the injectors pump poison into my bloodstream. My whole body convulses, and the cold fire begins to heat up. The part of me that’s given in, the addict in my mind, it tinges the whole process with an edge of lust that shames me. Even so, I’m not stupid enough to pick this fight without it.

The effect is almost immediate. My gear feels like it’s made from cotton candy. My original bones would have already shattered from the convulsion, but the substitutes are doing their job. My vision fogs around the edges, but it’s almost supernaturally clear at the centre – I can make out the beast’s individual hairs, and the shattered remnants of a corpsec radio headset dangling from its neck like a collar.

I give it a burst in the face before it hits me. I can tell it felt the impacts, but it barely slows before tackling me to the ground and knocking my gun out of my hands. Fine by me; the bullets aren’t helping much anyway. The others will have to go on, take care of the mission while I fight. It’s probably best; jek isn’t just physical, and it’s poison for a pack. Nobody on jek is a team player.

The force of the tackle rolls us into the last corridor, but my armour protects me from the impacts. Coat’s not going to be salvageable, though; it has claw marks in it now. Without the jek, I’d have been knocked a lot sillier than I am.

As the beast lunges for me, I bring up my machete. It doesn’t dig deep, but jek-fuelled muscles drive it through the skin. The beast’s blood is surprisingly bright – what little of it comes out, anyway.

It seems to have decided I need to be tenderised before I’m eaten. It scoops me up and slams me into the wall. My goggles dim; the beast has its back to a window, and the neon light from outside would be streaming into my eyes, so they’ve compensated.

Then it all comes to me at once: the window could be my solution here. The beast is recovering quickly; it’s already stopped bleeding. I’m not going to win this one-on-one, and if the pack know what they’re doing, they’ve already headed for the objective. I have to do something unexpected.

I fire one of my wrist grapnels. It hits the window, and the motors whirr. It’s designed for heavy loads, and after a frozen moment while it calculates the weight, it retracts, dragging both of us into the window.

The beast is surprised, but not enough to disorient it. It thrashes around, its rage twisting metal and driving tinted duraglass out of its sockets.

The window gives way, and we both go over the edge.

***

On impact with the wall, one of my charges goes off unexpectedly. My spine doesn’t enjoy it, even through the pain-deadening haze of jek, but it doesn’t do serious harm; it just blasts a chunk out of the wall and flings us into traffic. The beast sinks its jaws into my left arm, and I let go of my machete; it disappears, never to be seen again.

As we tumble, I try and find some weakness. I can’t go for its eyes with any kind of accuracy, its bones are nearly as tough as mine, and even striking at the stomach only seems to make it angrier.

Our descent is bluntly interrupted by a corpsec lighter. Our impact with the cockpit shatters the duraglass canopy, so we must have been going down pretty hard – but, fortunately, the beast hits it first. The impact solves two of my problems at once. First, while landing still hurts like a bastard, even with jek, the beast takes the brunt of the impact. Second, the beast’s breath is laden with pink froth. After a moment, the rage flees its body, and it goes limp. Probably had some of the canopy driven into its lungs; not a pleasant death, but a final one.

The lighter skews wildly off-course, and I realise after a second that the pilot is either unconscious or dead. Corpsec lighters do have autopilots, but some people prefer the personal touch or are worried about reprogramming (a valid concern; “Mirai” once sent a half-dozen corpsec troopers on a routine patrol out of state as a prank), so not everyone uses them.

I don’t have a chance to get to the controls, but luckily, we’re headed towards a window. The pain in my entire body worsens a step as I see a giant Nucleus Energy logo, and then we hit.

***

I stagger to my feet, somehow still conscious. It’s almost impossible to break my bones now, but my right leg is definitely not as straight as I remember it being.

The window in question was right next to a meeting room, apparently. A stunned silence hangs in the air, but in a few seconds – even ones drawn out by jek – people are going to start yelling and running.

The big logo on the wall confirms it. This is a Nucleus Energy office. The bastards whose strontium leak cost me everything. Their poison had seeped into my bones, forced me to get them replaced. Left me with a debt I could only pay off by taking wolf jobs here and there. All my scars, all my wounds, this growing addiction to jek – all their fault. I can’t tell if I’m hurting worse because I know it’s them, or if my body is already redlining my pain receptors.

My jek-focused perceptions show me that one of them has a refrigerator briefcase here. A vein, then, carrying his supply of transfusions around with him. I can’t tell which of the others are veins, but they all might as well be: even if they haven’t had the treatment, they have the same kind of mind. The suits in this city are all the same: cold, bloodsucking bastards, they only care about themselves. The veins took a treatment that would strip their empathy and didn’t even notice. Even before that was developed, they gutted the land, poisoned the water, pumped fumes into the air. We’d be better off without them.

The weight of my gun dangling from my wrist is still there, and with jek reflexes, I could do a lot of damage here. Start at the door, work my way across. Even a vein’s boosted body can’t take a good hit to centre mass, and none of them look to be wearing much armour.

It won’t solve much, but it’ll be a little less poison in the city’s bloodstream.

#short fiction #chrome wolves #cyberpunk #werewolves #I was working on a setting idea and this came out

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