#and just barely managed to get over 4000 words

[m1d-45]

the thoma one, god i love him. what a sweetheart :') but like.......what would happen if we went to the kamisato estate with him. and like. the siblings caught us. would they be on our side or would ayato call for our arrest immediately. would thoma still try to help us once he realized or does his loyalty override that. i am dying to know 👀

silent conclusions

summary: the kamisato estate is welcoming, thoma and ayaka are kind, ayato is… ayato.

word count: exactly 4000. very cool

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, exactly one (1) swear word, ayato is a little shit (affectionate), if your name is maple uh… whoops?

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @genshin-impacts-me || @5sos-wdw

@yoshikuno and @alexteea asked for part threes- sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged

<<first part || < masterlist >

teleport waypoints, despite being incredibly convenient, take large tolls.

the moment your feet were on solid ground again you reached, latching onto the closest person as your vision swam with vertigo. bile rose in your throat once more, exacerbating your nausea. though you managed to wash out some of the saltwater with the tea—shockingly sweet, from what you remember of green tea—it still soaked your tongue.

two people are talking, voices just out of focus, and the person you grabbed sets their hand over yours.

you’re thankful they give you a moment’s pause, and you take deep breaths. slowly, the stone beneath you is less blinding, and you can see that you’re outside the kamisato estate. the white and purple walls are tall, imposing, two guards stationed in front of the entrance. it looks like light security, but you figure nobody could be bold enough to try anything anyways.

you pull your hand from your support, hoping your gaze show your apology as you look at-

ayato?

he glances at you, eyes flicking over you once before returning to his talk with hisashi.

oh fuck.

thoma appears from your other side and takes you by the arm, walking for the entrance to the estate. “come on, let’s get you inside.”

you follow in a daze, still thrown off by the fact that you grabbed the arm of the yashiro commissioner after teleporting. you’re certain that most people would be knocked off in an instant—or worse—if not by him then by those around. you can’t tell which is more shocking: the fact that he didn’t seem upset afterwards, or that hisashi let you get so close in the first place.

the courtyard is full of life, plants lining the outer edge and the raised patio-like platform in the middle. the various workers around the area stare a little more at you than you’d like, but since thoma is besides you they don’t give you much trouble. the emblem of the kamisatos ripples on the flags they’re printed on, moved by a silent breeze.

the guards in front of the door eye you with more suspicion, and step inwards over the door as you approach, spears crossing in an X. thoma’s steps halt unnaturally, and you can see confusion on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“who is with you, retainer?”

“er…”

right. ayato had directed the conversation at the teahouse to your charges, not to you. you never got a chance to tell your name—not that you would have told the truth, incase history tried to repeat itself.

“the commissioner has employed new help,” he said, wisely keeping back the part where you were being hidden from the shogunate. “i am to show them to their quarters.”

the guard’s eyes narrow further, and you can’t find it in yourself to blame them. you don’t look fit for work by a long shot, let alone for somebody as prestigious as the kamisatos.

“come on souta, when have i ever been untrustworthy? the commissioner himself is just behind us, if you don’t-“

the door behind the guards slid open and they rushed not to block the way, glancing first at each other and then to the open doors.

ayaka is standing in the open doorway, barely-concealed curiosity evident in her eyes. in one hand is a fan that covers the lower half of her face, the carefully painted design matching her eyes.

your mind flashes back to when you were introduced to her, when she was sitting behind a screen and thoma said that that was the traditional way to greet guests, or something similar. sure, you’re less of a guest and more… maybe blackmailed is a little too harsh of a word, perhaps more coerced-

“m- my lady?” thoma steps forward, tugging you behind him, and you can’t tell if it’s meant to be protective towards you or her. “what are you doing out here?”

“indeed, it is rather rare for you to be out. i told you i was bringing home somebody, ayaka.” ayato’s voice once more comes out of nowhere, and you turn to see him and hisashi walking up. the latter looks more tense than you’ve ever seen him, and you don’t blame him. considering ayato gave a… warning..

…wait a minute-

“it’s well past when you said you would return,” ayaka points out, voice far more diplomatic than you’d expect from a conversation between siblings. “is it wrong of me to go for a stroll?”

an odd expression flashes over ayato’s face, but it melts into acceptance quicker than you’d expect. “that is fair. i apologize. negotiations took longer than expected.”

you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something smart in return. the threat of salt also helps, but not nearly as much as the fear of angering him.

something like a laugh comes from ayaka, but you refrain from turning. even if you’re ‘allowed’ to, it feels polite. also, you really don’t want to upset ayato. after everything he’s done, he feels like the largest threat.

(your mind reminds you of how kind his hand was when it settled over yours outside of the estate. you arrive at the conclusion that ayato is strange.)

“come in, then. hisashi, you are dismissed.”

hisashi bows, then sends a questioning look at ayato. the latter nods, and the former turns neatly on his heel, leaving with barely a sound to his footsteps.

thoma pulls at your hand again and you turn to follow, keeping your eyes on his shoes. you figure it’s better not to snoop or get distracted, and considering thoma’s following ayaka…

ayato’s eyes weigh on your shoulders as you walk.

for the second time today, you’re sat in front of tea you have no intent drinking.

it’s smells a little more flowery, and you think you remember catching the word rose, but that could very well be referring to the flower arrangement in the center of the table.

they’re nice. pale pink, in a soft green vase. they still have their thorns, surprisingly, a detail that distracts you from the conversation happening at the table.

first, ayato filled in ayaka on your conversation at the teahouse. second, ayaka asked for thoma’s recount of how you met. third… third you had zoned out, distracting yourself with the details of rose petals.

“-what do you think?”

you jump slightly at thoma’s voice, the sound closer than before and obviously directed at you. glancing around the table reveals no indication of the former conversation, only two other sets of eyes. soft silver looks with genuine feelings, and pale lavender looks a little too smug for your liking.

the latter picks up his teacup. “we’re assuming you don’t want to reveal your name,” he says, taking a drink. you wish his gaze wasn’t so knowing.

nonetheless, you nod.

“thoma was considering maple, since it’s a pretty neutral name.” wait, what did you just agree to? “it’s not inazuman, but it’s also not anything else either. it’s.. an interesting choice, considering its also the name of a tree common on narukami, but i believe it will hide you nicely.”

oh. that’s better than you thought, considering who it’s coming from.

you give a half-shrug and a nod in response, the pen under your hand not worth picking up for such a simple reply.

“well, maple,” ayaka pauses, but the name doesn’t sound awful, and you let her continue, “thoma can show you around, and you’ll start either tomorrow or the day after, depending on how long it takes you to get used to the place.”

sounds reasonable enough. you nod, and thoma speaks up next, nudging your notepad.

“do you have any preferences for where you’d like to work? i’ll keep you out of anything involving a lot of other people-“ you send him a silent thank you “-but just so i know…”

you pick up the pen and write down your choices, hesitating at the bottom before adding ‘but anything’s fine if you’re there.’ is it cheesy? probably, but he’s the person you’re most comfortable around here. he’s been nothing but open and kind, and doesn’t have a reputation to uphold or an agenda to fulfill.

he reads over the paper when you pass it to him, and a quiet pride comes over you as he flushes a bit at your end comment.

“a- alright then! i’ll show you around today, you can shadow me tomorrow, and the day after we can finalize things. sound good?”

you nod, and neither of the kamisato siblings have anything to add either, both silently showing their approval.

you feel yourself smile.

thoma’s work is surprisingly simple.

not that it was easy, of course, because what else would you expect working for a third of inazuma’s government, but it’s… shockingly simple.

he’d warned you the night before that you’d need to wake early, but he wasn’t angry when you didn’t wake up on time. he seemed upset, almost, regret lacing his words as he tugged you out of bed. even as you delayed him further by struggling with the uniform—the nightclothes were easy enough, but this one had so many folds and ties that you got lost embarrassingly quickly—he wasn’t upset. he just led you to the kitchens, where he explained every step of how the lord and lady liked their teas.

ayato prefers black tea, he says, carefully measuring out loose leaves. he takes it with no sugar, and as hot as it can be.

ayaka has been trying new teas from liyue, he mumbles, voice quieter than he intends to be as he stirs in honey. she’s quite fond of dragon’s well, but anything from there will do. feel free to experiment, just be sure it’s not too sweet.

he shows you their respective offices, and you wince at the amount of paperwork on both of their desks. they both greet you with a smile, but you can see how tired they are. absently, you wonder if that same exhaustion is why ayato likes black tea.

thoma’s interactions with them are short, and you waste no time in following him to his next task.

the day passes by easily, thoma’s easy conversation—despite your hoarse voice—easing the load of the work. floors are swept and shelves are dusted, and when he quizzes you on their tea preferences at dinnertime you get it right on the first try.

he beams from his post at the stovetop, bright green eyes shining in the same way dew does on grass. you feel your own smile form in response, and he makes you sit and wait while he delivers dinner—yes, to their offices—no matter how much you protest. he returns swiftly, pulling over a pot that you didn’t realize wasn’t empty and ladling out two bowls of soup.

he slides one over to you, and together you share dinner.

the next day is much the same, as is the next, and the next, and you slowly fall into a routine.

you wake up, the knots on the uniform more familiar than they were at the start, a simple way to start a simple morning. you tidy yourself up and meet thoma on the way to the kitchens, chatting about a dream you had the night before or a diplomat that had arrived yesterday for a meeting. water bubbles and you share a breakfast, the two of you preparing tea side by side.

today you decide to make ayaka a new king of oolong tea that had just come in a few days prior. after all the various security screenings, you could finally make it!

thoma encourages you to take the large platter this time, and you comply, however nervous. you’re watching it more than you are the hallway, making sure that nothing spills, and it pays off when you make it to ayaka’s office without incident.

she looks up with a smile as you come in, and you flash one of your own as you set down the large plate.

“good morning, lady ayaka.”

“good morning, maple. how did you sleep?”

you eye the bags under her eyes as you push over her teacup. “i should be asking you that, my lady.”

she chuckles, picking up the cup for a smell. “this doesn’t seem familiar.. what kind of tea is this?”

thoma looks to you from where he’s sorting out a stack of scrolls, and you recite the information off the box.

“it’s tieguanyin, also known as iron goddess, and is a type of liyuen oolong. it seemed sweet by the smell, so i didn’t put much honey in.”

her smile turns sweeter, an oddly genuine happiness taking you by surprise. “thank you.”

there’s a weight to her words, some other information tucked between the lines that you can’t reach. with a smile and a nod, you pick up your tray.

ayato’s office is strangely far from his sisters, something that confused you the first day and still does now. the only difference is that now you’re familiar with the sprawling layout of the estate, and you can take the right turn without missing it.

he’s much more tired, evident by the delay between when he sees you and speaks.

“maple, thoma. good morning.”

your hand paused over his teacup. ayaka… she hadn’t greeted thoma, had she?

you’re fairly certain there’s an implication there, something that ties into the heaviness of her voice when she thanked you, but you don’t have time to think it over. thoma nudges your side and you snap out of your thoughts, moving ayato’s tea and breakfast off the tray.

“is something wrong?”

you shake your head. “no. something.. caught my attention. i apologize, my lord.”

he picked up the cup with a grin, “oh? i do hope you’re not trying to pry into any yashiro documents.”

you shake your head and he drinks, but thoma catches your arm as you turn to leave. his lips part, something worried shining in his eyes, but ayato cuts him off.

“what is this?”

oh no.

ayato’s black tea was easy to brew, tea wise, and with thoma watching over your shoulder you had assumed it wasn’t burnt.

the housekeeper seems just as confused, the both of you turning back to ayato’s desk. he’s staring at the tea in his cup thankfully not with disdain, but certainly with confusion.

“it’s wakoucha, my lord,” you say. “no sugar. hot as can be.”

“is it a new kind?”

“it’s from the same box as yesterday’s, and all of last week’s.”

he looks to thoma, who nods. “the only difference is that maple brewed it.”

ayato’s eyes flick between the tea, thoma, and you, still not accusatory, for which you’re grateful. you’re not sure you could hide from poisoning the yashiro commissioner as easily as you could hide in liyue.

“…here.”

the cup is passed to thoma, who hesitates before trying some. he’s easier to read than ayato—most anybody is—and you can pick out the emotions in his eyes clearer. shock, delight, and then a careful sort of confusion.

“it’s very strong, though the flavor is perfectly intact… even without sugar, it’s still sweet.” you don’t know enough about tea to discern what that means. “but how? i was watching you the whole time…”

you’re tempted to say something stupid—‘well, i hear that nightshade can be pretty sweet’—but wisely hold your tongue, watching the cup return back to ayato’s hands. he stares at the rim of it for a moment, then a flicker of a smile crosses his face.

“well done,” is all he says, and after another sip, the cup is set down in favor of his pen, the prior conversation dissolving back into the air with nothing more than a glance. “and if you two are planning on going to the city today, do stay away from the docks.”

“are the tenryou receiving a shipment?”

“nothing of the sort, thoma, what do you mean? what reason would i have for directing you away from them?” ayato looks up from his paper, some stupid little scheme glinting in his eyes. “i’ve just received news from the shuumatsuban that the imposter is likely in the area.”

you can’t help the way your shoulders tighten, the office suddenly seeming smaller. though you had admitted as little as you could about why you were hiding from the shogunate, you had never brought up their accusations on this front. intentionally, too, because you knew that no matter how kind anybody could be, religion was a heavy topic in teyvat, inazuma especially.

and when you were staring down a man that held loyalty in high standard, it was wise not to admit such a thing.

the corner of ayato’s lips twitch into a smile. “do be careful, maple. i’d hate for you to get caught up in another incident.”

you cling closer to thoma’s side than you normally would when you two go into the city, your hand linked with his as he speaks with the various vendors. you’re not sure why you two are even in ritou, honestly, but didn’t bother with asking questions.

he’s speaking with a kanjou officer, which he’d addressed by name, oddly, and you’re standing behind him, looking around the city. the maple trees are a pretty pink for spring, making the island look a lot kinder. sure, the outlander affairs agency likely still has the area in a chokehold, and sure it’s run by a literal puppet government, but something could be said about its beauty.

“what do you think about lunch?” thoma asks, and you look back in alarm only to see the kanjou officer long gone, his eyes focused on you.

ah.

“we’re gonna be out for most of the day, and there’s a little food stall here that i like. granted, we could eat at shimura’s…”

you shake your head, “here’s fine, thanks.”

he brightens, pulling you along once more. “great! ryouko makes the best dry-braised fish, or she has fried tofu in a miso broth, if you’d rather?”

you make and tell him your choice, and he nods as you walk down sets of stairs, making note of it. people wave at you two as you pass, and though it’s mostly at thoma, you do see some smiles directed at you. probably just because you’re with him, though.

thoma leads you to the left of the main courtyard, taking you down another small set of stairs. it’s… familiar, the tree behind the sidewalk reminding you of something you can’t pin.

“hello ryouko!”

“hello, and welcome! care to have some specialty snacks?”

you keep a hand on his as you look around, letting him order for you. the food stall was backed against a wall, in a tucked away corner, near the port… if you turned so that you faced the staircase, it clicked.

this was where you met thoma. it was months later, at a wildly different time of day, and you were in a much better place… but you were back here. back when he held your hand much as he did now, in a drastically different context but for much of the same reasons.

guidance. security. promise.

comfort.

“first time in the city?”

you turned to the close voice, jumping slightly when you see the owner. maroon hair shadows grassy eyes, ones that seem to pick you apart—much like ayato, but a lot less subtle. the blue of an anemo vision shines behind the baton of a doushin, and you can feel your heart stop as you face down the best detective in inazuma.

you tug on thoma’s hand and he turns as well, apparently recognizing him. “doushin shikanoin? what are you doing out here?”

heizou crosses his arms with a heavy sigh, some of the tension in the air fading as his eyes fall to the floor. “on ritou, a failed mission. here in particular… well, ryouko’s one of the only in inazuma that makes a good katsu sandwich, and i’m in the market for a pick-me-up.”

“really? what happened? do you want eat with us and talk about it?”

“no no, please. there’s no need to interrupt your little excursion on behalf of little ol’ me.”

what is it with inazuman men with blue visions that makes them adore implying things most would rather say aloud?

“well we’ve got time while our food’s being made, don’t we?”

“mmm…” one of heizou’s hands comes up to his jaw as he thinks, tapping a steady beat. “i suppose i can tell you. after all, it was your boss that tipped me off.”

oh no. who could have ever seen that coming.

“ay- ah, i mean the commissioner?”

“indeed. you see, he’s been using his connections to keep the tenryou updated as best as he can, something any detective would appreciate, even if sometimes the information can be a bit lackluster. recently, he’s gotten a tip that the imposter was planning to leave inazuma tonight through ritou’s port, and madam sara sent me out to check it out. i, of course, looked over his evidence prior to coming, and though it was a little shaky, it’s the best lead we’ve had so far. i even heard from some fishermen that they saw somebody shady boarding a merchant boat, but… no dice.”

thoma’s grip on your hand adjusts, and he squeezes once. you don’t have much time to think it over. “i’m sorry to hear it. i can promise that we’re putting all of our effort into solving the situation as best as we can, and i regret letting them slip from our grasp.”

his voice lacks the usual depth behind it, like… like it’s rehearsed, almost. like he was prepared for this.

heizou’s eyes flick to you, jade green seeming to cut into your soul. “oh, naturally. this is such a pity, don’t you agree?”

subtext laces his words, and you’re left floating in the pause between his sentences. even as it stretches, his mouth slips up in a suppressed grin.

“after all, weren’t you the one who told him?”

you blink.

you didn’t do that. you didn’t tell ayato anything, you never even left the estate unless thoma—or, on occasion, ayaka—was by your side. you never had time to collect information, and you certainly didn’t give it to ayato- didn’t he say that the shuumatsuban gave it to him? didn’t he…

’i’ve just received news from the shuumatsuban that the imposter is likely in the area.’

’he’s been using his connections to keep the tenryou updated as best as he can, something any detective would appreciate…’

‘after all, weren’t you the one who told him?‘

you can see when heizou notices that you get it, the sharp light to his knowing gaze. he rests his chin in his hand and passes you a cheeky wink, one that makes you laugh.

kamisato ayato.

what did you expect?

#i am so sorry this took so long to come out #i wanted to finish ‘duality of man’ first and then the ‘plagued’ request had me in a chokehold #fun fact: every tea listed here exists!!! i did a lot of research on teas for this part :)) #if ur curious i prefer black tea with an unreasonable amount of sweet; that may just be because i don’t make tea properly though #something i learned after finally finding the right way online. the box i got didn’t have any instructions so i fucked it up lmao #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #thoma #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #ehhh sure #ayato #sagau ayato #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #sagau ayaka #anybody wanna guess why i chose the nickname maple? there are two right answers and one is because thoma found you under a maple tree #shikanoin heizou #heizou #sagau heizou #genshin heizou #heizou my beloved <3 #i just think he’s a very cool character in a sagau context #esp. imposter aus. mr ultra instinct ’this is only 10% of my power’ falling — genuinely or not — for an imposter… #i just think he’s neat <3 #the pacing here is…. oh boy. but hey the plots good!

[konfuse]

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#slimegirl: 'it's the juice-a-matic 4000. it'll strain my juices from you while filtering out the pulp. by which i mean your shredded remai

Meine Top-Einträge im Jahr 2022:

#5

Cats & Birds

1430 words; Rating: G (but mind the cusswords); Franky & Robin; friendship; Elementary School - AU

Robin meets a weird boy who is also her new classmate.

---

Written for @frobinfandays FrobinMonth2022; I chose the prompt “cat and birds”.

Not Beta-Read

Good thing I have no idea what I’m doing. Enjoy! And maybe have a look at the kid FRobin fanarts I did before [1][2] (Link to Ao3 will follow - also if anyone wants to continue this AU you're welcome to do so)

---

It has been a normal day so far. School was not eventful since Robin had managed to avoid being bullied. The test she had gotten back was donned with an A+ and the teacher had smiled at her.

She has had food to eat and maybe she could later visit the library to do her homework. It was a good day, indeed.

That changed slightly for good or for bad when she heard a commotion. Birds shrieking and a loud hiss and growling.

Looking over she could see a tree in a garden and a black and white cat trying to climb up, two panicking birds screaming at the predator, hopping around their nest in a futile attempt to protect it.

It was tragic to watch but that was life. Weak ones had to suffer and could do nothing against it. Weak ones would become the victims, like the eggs of these birds would be devoured by the cat.

A loud angry shouting made Robin look towards the house as a blue haired boy with bare feet and wearing only shorts came storming out.

With wide eyes Robin watched him run towards the tree, the cat already slowly - but as fast as possible - climbing down again.

Just as the boy reached the tree, the cat jumped the last distance down to the ground, fleeing but also arching its back and hissing like crazy.

„Piss off, Panda! You‘re not allowed in our garden!“ While shouting the boy grabbed a piece of dirt to act like he was throwing it. He didn‘t but it was enough to make the cat flee into the neighboring garden, jumping the stone wall.

Having seen all that Robin wasn‘t sure what to think. The way the boy had cursed had probably made the biggest impact on her, he couldn’t be much older than herself but was using such foul language. She continued to stare at him, as he huffed and then looked up to the birds who were still panicking.

„Gonna finish the protection fast…,“ huffing once more his eyes traveled to the end of the garden where Robin was still standing and staring. She could see his surprise slowly changing into a broad smile.

„Hey! I‘m Franky!“

Having no idea how to react, Robin turned and continued to walk away. That day had just gotten weird.

—

The day had continued adequately but Robin's mind was still busy, thinking about what had happened that day. And the next day when she passed the house again. She wondered about the boy when she saw that around the tree was a metal funnel with the bigger opening pointing down. Probably so the cat wouldn‘t be able to get a hold on the smooth surface and disturb the birds.

Robin was impressed.

Continuing her way she could see the black and white cat sitting on the wall that was separating the next house's garden, glaring at the tree.

“I guess you won’t get to the birds anymore, cat.”

The cat hissed as an answer and Robin hurried to leave it behind.

For a second she asked herself where the blue haired boy went to school but then figured that it did not matter.

At least until the new classmate was introduced: the very same boy Robin had met the day before.

“This is Franky. He will be in our class from today on. Please welcome him. You can sit beside Robin.“

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12 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 28. Februar 2022

#4

May 21: Day 20: Headcanon/Theory

Oh, short headcanon, longer theory!

Headcanon because I just heard the scene: Jimmy Jr.’s "Lady in Red" situation will be him playing it during the reception of Zeke and Tina's wedding as a tribute to their love.

Okay, let’s go weird now and also debunk the most boring theory and create a way more interesting one!

“This is all happening in Bob's imagination after HIS WHOLE FAMILY DIED IN THE FIRE! and that is why no one ages….” like, been there, done that. Stop being boring and get some imagination. Also it was said by Lauren that it's not true.

I propose that the show is happening in the fey world, that the whole city is within a parallel dimension in which magic exists. But no one knows! 

Also everyone has a special ability but they don’t know it and also sometimes it’s stronger sometimes it’s weaker.

Like Teddy can’t die falling down, like off roofs or ladders. 

Tinas imagination is very strong and if it got stronger it might influence reality, that is why her magic “worked”.

Gene can influence the emotions around him with his music, not always as intended but it’s there. 

Louise has charisma (which makes older people angry and younger people look up to her) and also a bit of witchcraft, maybe money magic.

Bob is a food magician but only for Burger and Turkey and also the charisma thing

Linda is like Gene and can influence the emotions around her. 

Stuff like that. And we all know that in the fey world the time moves differently and there is the explanation for that. 

You’re welcome! 

13 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 21. Mai 2022

#3

ZekinaWeek22 - Day 4: Repair

Headcanon time: 

When Zeke and Tina finally get together, Zeke will have the hardest time to win over not the family - they all love him already and know he is a good guy - but Teddy. 

It takes quite some time because Teddy is very protective of Tina, after he saw how easy it was for Jonas to exploit her. 

No worries though, Teddy does warm up to Zeke because 

Bob says it’s okay

Linda says it’s okay

Gene says it’s okay

Louise says it’s okay

Tina says it’s okay

The burger Zeke makes… tastes really good!

Also Zeke is willing to listen to Teddie’s long stories and is able to answer equally. Again it takes some time but in the end also approves of the relationship. 

-

@tacosandtouchtanks

18 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 4. Mai 2022

#2

May 14: Day 13: Favorite Pairing(s)

Oh that is simple! In before, I really tried to not ship when I started to watch. Well, the show decided otherwise. Anyway...

Zekina (ZekeXTina):

Rudiese (RudyXLouise):

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35 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 14. Mai 2022

Meine #1 des Jahres 2022

Sorry for being a day late but this took some time. Literally. Anyway, I decided to get inspired by the Zekina Episode list and used one ZekeXTina scene from every episode. Enjoy.

@tacosandtouchtanks Thank you!

S. 3 E 12 | Broadcast Wagstaff School News S. 5 E. 8 | Midday Run S. 5 E. 21 | The Oeder Games S. 6 E. 12 | Stand by Gene S. 6 E. 14 | The Hormone-iums S. 7 E. 3 | Teen-a Witch S. 8 E. 4 | Sit Me Baby One More Time S.8 E. 15 | Go Tina on the mountain S. 9 E. 2 | The Taking of Funtime One Two Three S. 9 E. 9 | UFO No You Didn’t S. 9 E. 22 | Yes Without My Zeke S. 10 E. 12 | A Fish Called Tina S. 10 E. 19 | The Handyman Can S. 10 E. 22 | Prank You For Being A Friend S. 11 E. 12 | Fingers-loose S. 12 E. 2 | Crystal Mess S. 12 E. 6 | Beach Please S. 12 E. 8 | Stuck in the Kitchen with You

124 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 8. Mai 2022

Hol dir deinen Tumblr-Jahresrückblick 2022 →

#tumblr2022 #Jahresrückblick #Mein Tumblr-Jahresrückblick 2022 #Dein Tumblr-Jahresrückblick #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #lmao so much shipping #shipping #tumblr

[grandapplewit]

Chapter three, As It Has Been, of Hearts of Wildflowers is up!

#hearts of wildflowers #wit writes #this took me so long to write #ive been staring at six pages of words for a week and a half #and just barely managed to get over 4000 words #im dying #hopefully this expands on the worldbuilding some more #or else i'll have to add even more #bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #stucky #rebecca barnes #winifred barnes #wwii #captain america #a/b/o #steve rogers/bucky barnes

[whitneythebully]

Scarce (whitney x gender neutral reader)

warnings: degrees of lewdity (and whitney) are its own warning, mentions of harassment/non con, abusive/controlling relationships, whitney is kinda nice

"Supplies are scarce," The dealer says. "Very scarce. £2000 per dose. Don't try to negotiate. There are plenty of rich kids looking to impress mummy and daddy."

You don’t need to check your wallet, there’s no way you’d be able to shell out £500 on stimulants, let alone £2000. You’re barely managing to scrape by as it is, especially since you took on Robin’s debt.

Between waiting at the Cafe, working on Alex’s farm, and volunteering as an initiate at the Temple, you’re surprised you even have the time to study. But that’s why you need stimulants, to give you the edge you could’ve had if you weren’t forced to work so hard.

You swallow and shake your head, walking away from the dealer without another word. Tears prick at your eyes as your stomach churns, terrified that you might start crying before you can reach the bathrooms.

You don’t have rich parents to impress, but you still want to win. The 2000 pound reward was enough to catch your attention when River was describing the competition, despite maths being your worst subject. God knows you need the money.

The £4000 allowance doled out by the Temple each month is the only thing keeping you from having to sell yourself on the streets. Though the idea of fast cash is appealing, you don’t want to do it. There was a reason you were working yourself into an early grave even though you’ve been told an ‘easier’ way existed. It’s dangerous work, and even if you got over that part, it terrifies you to think of what Whitney would do if he found out.

Sure, he called you ‘slut’ more than he called you by your own name. But you were his. He made that much abundantly clear, not only to you but to anyone who dared touch you in front of him.

You freeze when Whitney flashes into your mind. You didn’t know much about him, not really. But from what you’ve gathered, there’s no way he could help you out financially, or want to help you for that matter. Despite the tears in your eyes, the corners of your lips flicker up into a half-smile. You didn’t need Whitney’s money, you would never ask that of him. But you did need his help.

It doesn’t take long to find him, it’s an hour before class starts and he, for once, is early. Standing inside the school gate, near the entrance, smoking with his friends. You walk to him, shoes silent on the freshly fallen snow.

When you get to him, you reach out and grab onto his sleeve, giving it a gentle tug.

“W-Whitney…”

Whitney looks down at you, his face unchanging as he blows smoke into yours. “The fuck do you want, slut?”

You try your best not to cough, but the smoke does nothing to help your stinging eyes. They fill up even more, making the world blurry with tears. You look down, but don’t drop your grip on his sleeve.

“Oi,” He barks at his posse. “Fuck off.”

“Hey-“ One of his goons starts to protest.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Whitney flicks his cigarette butt at the lean boy before taking a mock step forward, the threat of a punch looming. The boy flinches away. “No? Right, now get the fuck out’ve here.”

They scatter fast after that, leaving just the two of you behind.

“Hey, up here.” Whitney takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him. “Did someone fuck with my property again?”

Your status at school is no secret- it’s probably one of the reasons Whitney noticed you in the first place. He hadn’t been the only one to bully you, though at least he hadn’t beaten you up like some of the other students had.

But since Whitney claimed you as his, only a few people have tried to rough you up like the way they used to. And those who tried, well… They wouldn’t even look in your direction now.

“No,” You say quietly, letting your head lean against his middle for a second. You feel how his chest moves with an intake of breath.

“Someone fucking with you?”

“No,” You haven’t asked for his help before, he’d given it without you needing to ask when you’d gotten beaten up after school, and on Halloween when that man tried to grope you. “Maybe… yeah, I think so.”

“Thinking too hard, huh? It’s not good for sluts like you. Too pretty for that, lemme do the thinking. What’s going on?”

“I… I tried to uh…” You trail off, suddenly embarrassed to admit that you’ve been taking stimulants. “Buy stimulants... and I… I don’t know…”

“Gabe selling them again?” You give him a confused look. “Skinny fucker, short too.” You nod.

“He um… Keeps raising the prices. I can’t… I can’t afford them. I don’t know if it’s just for me but… I can’t...”

“Figured you’d get your big bad boyfriend to shake ‘em down, yeah?” He teases, his voice uncannily soft as he cups your cheek. “Fuck, you’re adorable. Fucking nerd. Yeah, I know that guy. How much is he charging?”

“Two thousand pounds.”

“Fuck that.” He laughs, tugging you close. “You’re not paying a thing to that fuck, got it?”

“Whitney I need-”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll get your pills, smarty. Relax.”

It’s your turn to exhale, your shoulders dropping at his command. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me on your knees, slut.” Whitney smirks. “But I’ll take a kiss, for now.”

Grabbing you by the waist, he leans down. Connection your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth as his hands explore your body. When he pulls away, you’re gasping, and painfully turned on.

“Now run off, I’ve got shit to do.”

You follow his orders, stumbling off into the school as he rolls up his sleeves, and stalks towards the stimulant dealer.

#okay so im obsessed w/whitney calling the PC 'smarty' #reblogs are super appreciated 🥺 #whitney x you #whitney the bully #whitney x gender neutral reader #whitney dol #whitney degrees of lewdity #mwriting #dol #degrees of lewdity #whitney x reader

[hereforhalstead]

Tell me that when you’re sober

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader 18+

• Requested: Yes:

“I fucking love you”

“Hang up and tell me when you’re sober”

• Warnings: Swearing - PURE FLUFF

• Summary: Jay isn’t happy with you bringing work home but leads to a confession he’s wanted to tell you for a long time.

• Words: 4215

• A/N :I slightly adapted this to fit it better and intended for this to be a short fluff but 4000 words later.. here we are😅Thanks so much for your request and hope you enjoy!

**

You groan and throw your pen down onto the table, this case was really getting the best of you and frustrating you to no end. You look up at the time to see ‘10.30’ flashing in the green light back at you. You run your fingers through your hair which was now borderline greasy with how much you had been absentmindedly running your hands through it as you’re deep in thought. Eyes burning from how much you had been straining them and a slight blister on your finger with how hard you’d been holding the pen as you cross examine the notes intently.

You didn’t realise how quiet the apartment was, the faintest noise from your neighbours TV and the cars rushing past on the street below was all you could make out. This wasn’t like you, you basked in the liveliness and thrived in busy environments, the ones where you barely have time to think so therefore don’t spend much time on the outcome. You picked the pen back up to click it on the papers that were spread out in a manic like fashion in front of you, it made sense to you but if someone else was to see they’d think you’d just picked up the lot and thrown them down in a huff.

You scan over the CCTV stills and traffic cam screenshots, as if you hadn’t been staring at them for god knows how many hours and by a much needed miracle something was going to jump out at you and you’d have your lightbulb moment. Instead, you’re greeted with the same dead end paths and pointless thoughts you’d been fighting relentlessly.

You hear the keys turn in the lock and normally you’d be out of your seat and over to him in a heartbeat, your feet hitting the floor as if you were a kid at Christmas on your way to see what Santa left under the tree but today wasn’t that kind of day. You tried to tell yourself it was just because you were tired and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to admit you’d had another night of little success after being warned about bringing the work home by Jay several times. He always loved to prove a point and you weren’t about to let him get another one over on you, you couldn’t handle those eyes boring down on you as he stands behind you to examine you work, even if it meant lying to him.

You jolt in your seat as you feel him rest his hands on your shoulders before dropping a kiss to the top of your head “why are you still working? How many times have I told you..” he trails off but you’re quick to cut him off with your best ‘I’m fine’ smile “Jay, I’m finally getting somewhere” you falsely admit and feel the pit of guilt instantly form in your stomach as his eyes light up, he probes his thumbs into your skin in a light massage “proud of you” he softly confesses as he continues kneeding your skin.

If you weren’t so determined to get this case tied up this easily would’ve lead somewhere else but you had your focused mind at work and nothing was going to change that. He remains standing over you as you scribble pointless notes onto your notepad, highlighting the odd name and photo as you go as if to convey you had some trail of thought but really you were just buying yourself time until he left your side.

A few minutes go by but to you it feels like hours, you hate what you’ve become in that you find yourself dreading seeing Jay when you bring your work home. Knowing he was right in what he says and that he only says it because he cares but you always wanted to prove yourself and especially to him. He managed to get you into Voight’s good books after pissing him off one too many times, you had a back bone and even though most of the time this was an admiral quality it sometimes backfired.

You and Voight disagreed regularly but you had now learnt how and when to bite your tongue for the best result in cases but there were times you just couldn’t. After coming to blows and being sent to ‘get some air and cool off’ Jay was quick to plead with Voight for your job back and luckily it worked and you were back in the department the next morning. This lead to you now feeling this internal debt had to be paid to your boyfriend to prove you deserved your place and it was worth him sticking his neck on the line.

The pair of you became increasingly serious, starting as partners with the occasional flirty comment or glance soon lead to the regular sting of jealousy or worry which was now the feeling of emptiness when you weren’t together. Some may say you moved on fast, having only been together just under a year and already basically living together. However, due to the uncertainty of your job you decided to not hesitate and wait for when everyone else said it was right and do what felt right for the pair of you. Even if this did mean earning raised brows from Jay when he comes home from a late night to see you hunched over a stack of paperwork that you’d bought home, god knows how many times you’d seen him do it but for some reason it was a different ball game when it came to you.

It pulled at your heart how caring he was, always keeping an eye out for you and sometimes even more for you than himself. As much as there’s endless amounts of perks for dating your partner it sure did come with its consequences and you learnt them faster than you were expecting. Jay throwing himself into danger because it meant protecting you, you leading on suspects on undercover missions to try and get them to confess to which Jay hated and heated debates on the best way to handle a case were just a handful to name a few.

But, despite all of those you truly wouldn’t have it any other way, as you see it as spending as much time with him as possible and being grateful to have him beside you and always in your corner no matter how he feels, he will always back and argue for you.

After Jay strolls into the bedroom to change into some comfier clothes you start to fold some of the papers to create a bit more space, the thought of waking up to this mess wasn’t the ideal situation as you’d find yourself working on them at the crack of dawn and hardly in the right frame of mind to work. That was Jay’s one rule that he never budged on ‘put it all away before you go to bed’, he had hammered this into your head hundreds of times that it became natural for you at this point.

Neatly shuffling the papers to stack them in a pile on the side, helped you to resist the temptation to take a peak at the late or early hours when you should be asleep. He caught you one time glancing at an open file at the dead of night and he was not happy to say the least so knew he had to put his foot down. He knew you were like him and would work until a case was done but unlike him, you rarely knew when to stop.

He would know when his vision starts to loose focus from staring at a screen for too long or he gets a headache from the scrunch between his brows as he examines some notes that it was time to call it a day whereas you, would pop a few painkillers and carry on.

You hear Jay’s phone ring from the other room, not really taking much notice as you continue to fold the papers and shuffle them in a pile but can’t ignore when he comes bounding out of the room over to you “Baby, Adam and Kim are down at Molly’s. You wanna go?” He asks and normally you struggle to turn down such an invite but tonight you just weren’t feeling it and it’s as if you not replying instantly already told Jay you didn’t want to go as his face falls “let me call you back” he mumbles into the phone before shoving it into his back pocket.

He continues in his strides over to you and crouches down in front of you, taking your hand in his as he places a light kiss to your palm “please don’t tell me you’re going to sit here and work and make me go to Molly’s alone?” He pleads, eyes in puppy dog form as by now he knows the best way to get to you.

You run your hand over his disheveled hair as he leans into your touch “I think I’m just gonna have a shower and head to bed” you lie through your teeth, knowing full well the second he steps out the door you’ll be back knee deep in your files with the added extra of knowing you won’t be interrupted by your concerned boyfriend.

He scans your face with a concerned look on his own, lightly running his thumb over your knuckles as he sighs “you promise me you’re not going to carry on working and that you’ll give yourself an early night?” He rightfully asks, you nod in response thinking to yourself that you can’t verbally promise as you were one to never break promises and especially when it came to Jay.

He reaches up to plant his lips on yours, lingering them for a few seconds before standing tall in front of you “give me a call if you want me come home”. He reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and you instantly regret not allowing yourself for be bundled into his arms as you crawl into his lap for the night but you knew you weren’t nearly as done with the case as you’d like and the only way you could continue was if he wasn’t there.

He heads into the kitchen to grab the coat he left on the counter but is back at your side within seconds, placing a glass of water on the table in alongside another kiss being left on the top of your head “make sure you drink that please baby” his voice slightly elevates in concern and you can’t contain the smile that spreads on your face at his worry for you.

“have a good time” you call out to him as he heads for the door “text me when you’re in bed and I want proof!” He yells over his shoulder and without looking you can see the smirk engraved onto his face “get out Halstead” you tease, earning a wink from your boyfriend as he exits the apartment to leave you again in total silence.

You pick up the glass of water he left and take a sip, struggling to think of the last time you hydrated yourself and thankful he knows when to think of these things for you. You lean back in your chair and cross your legs beneath you, slight hunch in your back from the pain of being in the chair for so long and now wishing you were still receiving the massage from Jay that you desperately craved. You shake your head to clear the the thoughts and pour yourself back into the notes. Re reading the interview script over and over again, eventually reaching for your phone to find the recording you’d sent yourself before you left the district to be able to listen back at home.

You chew the inside of your cheek at the sight of your lock screen, a photo you’d taken of Jay on vacation just after the pair of you became an item. His back was towards you and he didn’t even realise you snapped the photo of him looking out from the balcony window at the gorgeous beach front below, reminding yourself that everything you do is for him. As cringy as it sounds, you longed for his approval and praise as he was always so vocal about it, wrapping you in his arms after you finish a case report, sitting you between his legs as you work late on a report with the occasional kiss to your shoulder to remind you her was there or the way he just knows how’s to give you that look that says ‘you’ve got this’ was what kept you going.

You click play on the recording and sink back into your chair as it plays, leaning your notepad on your legs as you listen along. Laughing to yourself when Jay looses his temper or Voight makes a snarky comment to which they both laugh to made the listening all that much easier as it seemed to drag on for hours.

You checked the length of the audio on your phone and the combined clips had only been playing for just over an hour. With the faffing around when Jay came home and the breaks you took to replay certain parts, the time had soon passed. The clock now beaming down on you with the time flashing ‘12.45am’ made you toss your head back in frustration. You’d been round and round in circles, still getting no where and conscious of the fact Jay would be home soon.

You certainly didn’t want him to find you like this as you’d never hear the end of it, you have a stern word with yourself and play back Jay’s warning of packing everything away as you finally close the files you’d been staring at for far too long. You push them to one side and prop your head on your elbows on the the table, you finish the glass of water that had been sat at your side that was truly collecting dust at this point due to you forgetting about it. You glance down at your phone to see a text from Jay flash up on the screen

‘You in bed yet baby? Not seen any proof..’

You roll your eyes as you just know he’s been impatiently sat there waiting to hear from you ever since he left just a few hours earlier. You stare at the screen to debate whether it’s best to ignore it and pretend you’re already asleep or to lie to him again for the second time that night. You’re soon interrupted as his name lights up the screen, his toothy grin staring back at you from the contact photo he had set for himself after a night out reminding you how ‘you always make me smile so you deserve to see it when I call you’.

You hesitate to pick up but know he won’t stop until you answer, after having a few drinks the last thing you want is for him to bound home to you in a mood about how you didn’t answer his call. You sigh and slide the button to answer the call and can barely contain your laughter as you hear his drunken slurs on the other end of the line

‘You haven’t answered me you know?’ he moans, annoyance in his tone but also sounding like a child who hasn’t got their own way at the same time. You laugh to yourself but careful to not let him hear as this wouldn’t go down well “ was asleep” you hang your head in shame as you yet again lie.

‘Why are you lying to me? You were working weren’t you?’ He accuses and you’re stumped on how to reply, even without being with you he knows you better than anyone to which you always seem to forget. He huffs on the other end of the line after he doesn’t get a response, knowing he has you cornered. ‘Y/N please, just get to bed and I’ll be home shortly’.

“I’m just packing it away Jay, I only had a few more bits I wanted to do. I promise” you nibble on your fingertips in slight nervousness as he continues to groan down the phone.

‘What, like how you promised me you were gonna give yourself an early night you mean?’ He questions but you’re quick to reply “well actually, I never promised I just nodded” you chuckle to yourself, feeling clever with your response but Jay isn’t happy.

“Y/N I’m just looking out for you, I care about you too much to see you draining yourself over these things” he begins and before you can get a breath in he carries on his drunken rambles “I love you too fucking much to watch you not look after yourself, as much as I love to be the one who takes care of you I can’t be there all the time so I need to know you can put yourself first baby” you’re silent after his admission, unsure if he’s even aware of what he’s just spilled out

“Do you know what you just said?” You tease, trying to lighten the subject but the sigh on the other end tells you he was still in a mood.

“Yes Y/N, I said I love you too fucking much to watch you destroy yourself” he expresses in outrage but you were in too much of a shock to think of a clever reply “hang up and tell me that when you’re sober Jay”.

“I’ll be home soon” he cuts the conversation short before ending the call, you take a moment before placing your phone back on the table and you try to comprehend what just happened. He said I love you.

Fair enough it wasn’t in the way you had envisioned, him confessing his love for you as you lay wrapped within his arms or him accidentally spilling his admiration during a teasing session you often had but he still said it. Whether he meant or it was just a drunk slip up was another question. You couldn’t let yourself say it back in case he woke up tomorrow and didn’t remember, it would pain you to let the last piece of your guard down for him to take it all back the next morning and the whole thing becomes a distant memory.

You finish tidying away the papers, patting yourself on the back for the great job you’d done of making it look like you hadn’t spent hours on end sat at that table, it now gleaming the exact way it did this morning. You place the glass back onto the kitchen counter and trudge into the bedroom, thudding down onto the bed as you lay staring at the ceiling. Wrapping yourself in the comforter and attempting to close your eyes but nothing was enough to push down that anxious feeling in your stomach. This isn’t how you should be feeling after your boyfriend says I love you for the first time and even though you’d both wanted to say it for a while it still didn’t seem real. You didn’t deserve him, all the things he does for you and the way he takes care of you didn’t seem feasible in your mind that it would happen to someone like you.

Moments pass and you hear the front door shut, his attempts to be quiet made you laugh into the pillow as you hear him lightly walk across the hardwood floor. Bumping into the doorframe as he enters, grateful the comforter covering your face to avoid him seeing your amusement of his drunken self trying to be quiet and navigate his way to the bed. You stay laying on your side, hand tucked under the pillow beneath your head and the other resting on your stomach. You hear his belt unbuckle and watch hit the beside table as he gets himself undressed, tempted to turn over and help him but knowing he would still moan at you for being awake no matter what state he was in.

You force your eyes closed, keeping your head slightly buried into the pillow as you feel the bed dip beside you. Within seconds you feel the all too familiar comfort of his arm latching around you, pulling you into him in one swift motion as he tucks his head into the nape of your neck. Your heart flutters as you feel him place a kiss to your back before further pulling you into him, any chance of a gap between the pair of you was well and truly diminished.

You stay facing away from him, now far too comfortable to move and knowing he will be asleep within seconds, as long as he was by your side and you were wrapped tightly within the safety of his grasp he would sleep anywhere. You soon feel the light puffs of air to your skin as he falls into a sleep, the occasional nudge into your back as he gets himself comfortable but after a while he lays still to signal he was finally asleep.

You lay there trying to ignore your thoughts, cursing yourself for being such an over thinker as the one who had sent you into this spiral now laid passed out beside you, unbeknownst to the panic he set off inside you as he falls deeper into his slumber. You run your hand up and down his arm to sooth yourself to sleep, thinking to yourself of how you’re going to forget what happened and tomorrow will be a new day.

***

You awake to the sunlight peering through the window, annoyed at yourself for not closing the blinds before you went to bed as the rays shine in your eyes. You turn in Jay’s grasp and jolt in his arms as you’re met with him softly smiling back at you “morning” he groans, his normal groggy morning voice now made more intense with the slight hangover he would soon be facing. You drop your head to lay on his chest, pressing your lips to his skin as he runs his fingertips up and down your spine and resting his head on top of yours as you lay in a comfortable silence. “Good night?” You break the air, knowing he certainly wasn’t in the mood to be talkative but if you didn’t have some form of interaction from him you’d go insane.

“Wasn’t the same without my girl” he tightens his grip on your waist, a soft pinch of your skin as he teases “but she was at home working when she promised me she wouldn’t, clearly choosing work over her boyfriend” he huffs into the top of your head as you bury yourself further into his chest.

“don’t go there” you warn as he chuckles in response “choosing to look at old case notes than spending time with your boyfriend, that’s a tough one” he continues to ramble, you detach yourself from him and turn to face him with stern look “I said don’t go there”you warn but he pouts his bottom lip at you as he raises his brow. You narrow your eyes at him and he cracks his serious exterior, bringing his hand to the back of your head as he brings it to him to connect his lips to your temple “It’s a good job I love you” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips onto yours for a brief second before allowing himself to pull back and admire your expression of shock.

“You remembered?” You question, still nervous he wouldn’t have a clue what you were talking about. “Of course I remember, you think I’d forget when I first tell my girlfriend I love her?” He tilts his head as he asks, you lean your head down onto him as he clears his throat “would help me if you said it back though, bit embarrassing if I’m the only one to say it” he jokes, grin encompassing his morning glow as he gloats “I love you too idiot” you roll your eyes at him, bringing your lips onto his for a chaste kiss. He brings his hand up your back and tousles it into your hair, keeping you in place as your lips intertwine before pulling back and running his eyes over the happiness beaming from your face “you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that”.

**

inbox and requests open🥰

#jay halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead smut #jay halstead #one chicago x reader #jay halstead x you

[sugardaddytonystark]

Love Bites (Love Bleeds)

author: sugardaddytonystark pairing: vampire Tony Stark x Reader word count: 4000+

*Explicit*

🔊 Love Bites

At thirty-eight years old, Tony Stark was bitten.

That was ten years ago, and he’s been either blessed or cursed to live out eternity in that same body, hidden away from the light, from people. Few know that he’s fallen victim to the virus. Rumors say that he’s just a shut in, an eccentric, only leaving the house when he’s in his armored suit. But you know better.

You have been his court-appointed guardian for a few months now, and you’ve spent more time with Tony in that short time than most people have in the last decade. You two were getting close, but lately he’s been distant, holed up in his basement workshop. And that’s the one place you don’t go, his private sanctuary.

You have free reign of the rest of Tony’s house, it being your home now as well, and you make good use of it. It’s dark now as you make your way down the stairs in a half-stumbling, middle-of-the-night daze. But you know every step by rote, every creak and every corner. So, even though there aren’t any lights on in Tony’s Malibu mansion, you can navigate it just fine.

You do turn on the light when you round the bar nestled into an alcove in the sitting room. You don’t feel like walking all the way to the kitchen, and you know that the mini bar will have stocked some kind of juice for making cocktails.

As you sip on your drink, you look out into the darkness of the living room and see two shining eyes staring right back at you. The glass slips from your hand as you startle, and in your panic, you step directly on the broken shards.

“OW! SONUVA B—”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re off your feet, cradled in a pair of strong, solid arms. You look up and it’s Tony, brows furrowed above concerned, blackest-brown eyes. He tries to give you a little smirk when he sees you staring up at him, but the space between his eyebrows is still pinched, the look of worry on his face.

“If you wanted to join me for a nightcap, honey, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low and smooth as he carries you into the adjoining living room.

You clench your jaw, trying not to show how much pain you’re in. “Well, you know me,” you say, “can’t do anything without a little flair.”

“Something we’ve got in common,” Tony replies as he lays you down on the couch. He gently places your head against the arm before getting a throw pillow from the chair and placing it behind you. He sits down on the other side and puts your feet in his lap.

“Here, drink this,” he tells you as he leans over your legs to pick up a glass from the coffee table. “Your nightcap.”

You take the drink and just hold it for a moment, letting the cold radiating from the glass sink into your fingertips. You bring it up to your lips and catch the scent of whiskey, of citrus. You didn’t even know Tony could drink alcohol.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he mutters, looking at the sole of your foot, “next time, a little less flair.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, the glass perched at your lips.

He looks up at you beneath thick eyelashes, a flash of crimson in his otherwise dark eyes. He places two fingers under the glass and tilts it up. “Drink,” he tells you. “You’ll thank me later.”

You tip your head back as you down the rest of Tony’s drink. It goes does smooth, heating up the back of your throat, the warmth blossoming in your chest. You hand the empty glass back to Tony and he sits it on the table.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

You nod your head and close your eyes, fists balled and nails digging into your palm as you prepare for the pain. You can feel Tony’s grip on your ankle tighten, and when he pulls the shard of glass out of your foot, you have to try your damnedest to suppress a scream.

His grip tightens even more, managing to ease the pain a little, slow the flow of blood, as he gently slides your bloodied sock off your foot.

“Shit,” he says, dropping the sock from his one hand and your ankle from his other.

Tony grabs the hem of his shirt, brings it up and over his head. He presses it to the sole of your foot to stop the bleeding and you hiss at the pressure, recoiling at the touch. He wraps his palm around the fabric, keeping his shirt tight against the wound, fingers curled up and over the wounded appendage.

His hold on you is tight, forcing you to stay still. His other hand is stroking your ankle, up your shin - a soft, soothing motion. His eyes are cast downward, fixed on the place where you’re bleeding into his wadded-up shirt.

You watch Tony as he works, trying to distract yourself. He’s nice to look at. More handsome in person, even, than in pictures. He has a lean build, slender but with strong muscles under cool, winter-pale skin. His eyes are the darkest shade of brown, flashing with crimson when they hit the light. They’re big and round and warm, making him look innocent and young, even younger than his everlasting thirty-eight years. His hair is dark, his beard slightly longer than stubble. His lips are flower-petal pink.

The angle of the light from above the bar casts half of his face in the shadow, highlighting the slope of his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow. A glow emanates from the metal embedded in his chest, and now more than ever, you’re reminded that Tony is part man, part myth, and part machine.

He is truly incredible, you think, and not for the first time. He glances up at you, catches your gaze, then quickly averts his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“I just… feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” you reply, feeling like velvet – throat dry, head thick and fuzzy. You don’t know if it’s the blood loss, the drink, or just being in Tony’s presence, but everything is starting to feel slow-moving, like you’re stuck in a daze.

The corner of Tony’s mouth turns up in a smirk, but still, he doesn’t look at you. “Have you been missing me, honey?” he asks.

“Yes,” you tell him, unabashed.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, shakes his head, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently peels his shirt from the sole of your foot, inspecting the damage. It must be bad, because you can see his brows furrow again, his nostrils flare.

“Shit, you’re gonna need stitches,” he says. “I’m gonna call the Doc, alright?”

“Wait, Tony,” you say, before he can stand up. “Can’t you just… you know?”

His grip tightens on your ankle. “No,” he says sharply, but he doesn’t try to stand up again.

You’re tired and weak and in pain, so when you whine, “Why not?” you don’t even feel bad about sounding so infantile. “You can heal me in a minute. If not, I’ll be limping around here for weeks.”

Tony, being what he is, can heal a wound almost instantly. His saliva mixed with his blood, and whatever science or magic that is involved, can keep you from being bedridden for however long it would take your wound to heal on its own. You wouldn’t ask normally, but he’s here and, well, you’re curious, not to mention that you’re not ready to be without his touch once again.

“I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself,” he admits to you, softly, as if ashamed.

“I’m bleeding everywhere and you’re controlling yourself now.”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he responds, almost a growl, his voice deep and low. “I wouldn’t call how I’m feeling ‘being in control.’”

“Maybe not, but you’re doing it!”

You two just stare at each other, neither of you budging nor relenting. It’s not even awkward, just tense, this silent battle of wills. But you know that Tony is more stubborn than you, so finally, you give in.

“Fine,” you say. “Just get someone to sew me up.”

But Tony doesn’t move. He just looks at your wounded foot, your ankle still in his painful grip. His stillness is almost unnerving, his dark brown eyes unblinking, his pale face statuesque against the darkness of the room.

“Tony,” you say, nearly frightened. “Please, do something. I’m bleeding!”

“I know,” he replies, his voice soft again, as he seems to shake himself from his stupor. “I know you are.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tony lifts your leg and presses his nose against the inside of your ankle. He breathes in and closes his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your foot, his short beard brushing over your skin.

“You have no idea how incredible you smell,” he says, so low you barely hear him. “How tempting you are. It’s not that I don’t want to…”

And as he speaks, your hands curl into fists beside you, his words shocking you into near panic. It’s too much, this quick shift, this sudden change in atmosphere. You’re suddenly too caught up in the scene playing out before you to manage any coherent though, let alone words. Do it, you want to tell him, but you can’t, heart pounding, voice caught in your throat. Do it.

“...it’s that I want it too much.”

Tony brings up one of his knees to kneel on the sofa so that he’s turned toward you, between your legs, your ankle still in his hand, your other leg resting across his thigh. He eases up on the pressure around your ankle and you can feel the blood start flowing to your foot again, wet heat running down your wounded sole.

You watch him, enraptured, as he wipes his mouth across the bottom of your foot. You don’t even flinch from the sting of it, too fascinated to move. But you can feel him trembling, his breath coming out ragged against your skin.

When he lifts his mouth from the arch of your foot, there’s a smear of dark blood against his lips. And then, behind, sharp teeth shining white and deadly. His eyes flash with a nocturnal sheen – deep, deep burgundy all but glowing in the darkness. He looks dangerous and feral and like nothing you’ve ever seen before in your life.

You barely register that the pain in your foot has faded, the wound now a mere memory. You can only focus on Tony’s lips, painted red, and the intense pounding of your own heart. Never have you been more aware of the blood rushing through your veins. Or the reality that you’re living under the same roof as the person who would desire it the most.

Tony doesn’t relinquish the hold that he has on your ankle, but the other hand lightly grabs hold of your calf on the same leg, and then slowly, slowly, you feel his palm slide up to the back of your knee. He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving up, palm sliding across the inside of your thigh, his hand squeezing your flesh and staying there.

In the stillness and in the quiet, you can feel your pulse pounding beneath his palm.

Tony then sets your ankle on his shoulder, his hold giving up its claim. He smears blood from his lips up your ankle, kisses the side of your calf. From behind coal black eyelashes he looks up at you, mouth hovering above your skin.

“Aren’t you gonna stop me?” he asks, placing his lips on the inside of your knee. He kisses you there and you shiver, almost tickled by the soft touch against your sensitive skin, overwhelmed by him worshipping places that no one else has ever even cared to touch.

You slowly shake your head no and he closes his eyes, dragging his cool mouth up the inside of your trembling thigh. You arch your back as he moves higher still, planting a line of kisses up your delicate flesh.

“There are places where you smell the most you,” he whispers, almost absentmindedly, lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “The back of your knee... the inside of your elbow... your throat, your hair… your cunt.” He buries his face between your legs and inhales deep, moaning. “You should really tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him, your voice hardly even a whisper. “Don’t stop, Tony.”

“What do you want?” he asks, mouth hovering over your pussy, those shimmering black eyes looking up at you from behind dark lashes.

You roll your hips up. “I want you to bite me.”

He rears back so fast that you jump in surprise. You sit up and grab his arm, afraid that he’s going to leave. You must have gone too far this time. Too far too fast and now you’ve pushed him away.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says, voice hoarse and rough. “You don’t really want that.”

You lead him closer by his arm, then wrap your other hand around the back of his neck. You lean your forehead against his and you hear him take a shuddering breath. You close your eyes and savor the feeling of him being so close to you – forehead to forehead, the sides of your noses resting against the other, your fingertips against his flesh and his hands noticeably absent from your body. You shiver, chilled at all the places that you two are touching, his skin cold against yours.

“I do,” you tell him. “I want you, Tony.”

You stare at him, waiting. He stalls a heartbeat before he tilts his chin, angling for a tentative kiss. He presses his soft lips against yours, wraps his arm around your waist. You cup his face in your palms, thumbs running across his cheekbones. He nips softly at your bottom lip, not even close to breaking the skin, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

It should disgust you – having Tony’s mouth on yours after he licked up your blood – but you only taste a slight metallic tang, mostly masked by the whiskey that both of you drank. It’s intoxicating, Tony’s cool mouth, his sharp teeth against your sensitive lip, his taste, yours, the sharp sweetness of the alcohol.

“More,” you moan. “Please.”

“Impatient,” he chides, then plants a kiss on the side of your mouth. “Greedy.”

Tony turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist, your hand cupping his cheek. He runs his tongue over the delicate veins, and you gasp, trembling in anticipation. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps moving, kissing up the inside of your arm, his mouth leaving a trail of goosebumps on the surface of your skin.

He moves his arm from around your waist, bracing one hand against the couch behind you as he slides his other hand under your shirt and up your stomach. His fingertips are cold and soft against your body, the temperature almost a shock, and you’re torn between moving away and arching toward him. But the sensation is nice, you’ve never felt anything like it, and you know you won’t be forgetting it any time soon.

Tony’s lips touch your bare shoulder, once, slowly, and then once more, lingering against your skin. He moves upwards and your breath catches when you feel his open mouth against your neck. He sucks the blood to the surface of your throat like he can taste it through your skin, marking your soft flesh with soon to be tender bruises that you’re sure will last for days.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, hear your quickening heartbeat. Tony is saying something, but it doesn’t register in your mind, you’re so caught in feeling of his lips against your skin as they move.

“Where –?” you sigh, echoing what you think you heard.

You groan as Tony pulls away from you, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring down at you, half-smiling. “Where do you want it?” he asks again, cocking an eyebrow. “The throat is conventional, but –"

“Yes,” you reply, impatient. “I – anywhere. Everywhere. Just… please.”

You want him to devour you, consume you. You want his lips against your body, to feel his teeth sink into your skin. You’ve dreamt about it almost every night, giving yourself to him, him having his way with you, doing whatever he wants to do with your body.

Tony’s smile grows wider, and he bites down on his bottom lip, sharp white teeth gleaming in the low light. He bends down, chest to chest, and kisses you again, his cold skin melting against your warm body, the two of you separated by just your shirt. He makes quick work of that inconvenient piece of fabric, his lips leaving yours just long enough to pull it over your head and throw it out of the way.

His mouth moves down your throat, slowly, across your collarbone, down your breast to latch on to your hard nipple. His tongue licks across it, then he lets his teeth graze the taut peak, his hand coming up to pinch and pull at your other one.

The chill of his fingers has you shivering, arching your back up toward him. Your eagerness must spur him on because he grabs your breast in his palm, almost too rough and desperate, fingertips digging into your flesh.

Too soon, Tony moves between your breasts, then kisses down your stomach. You roll your body to meet him at every place his lips touch – sternum, then stomach, then hips. He grabs the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down your legs as he sinks to his knees on the floor.

His hands grip the back of your knees and pull your legs apart, opening you up to him. The way he’s handing you now is neither gentle nor shy, maneuvering you so that he can get his shoulders between your thighs, his face level to your cunt.

It’s jarring, to realize that you’re naked on Tony Stark’s living room sofa, with Tony himself below you, in just his sweatpants and socks. That his blood, no matter how little of it, is inside of you now. Your blood in him. This joining seems irreversible, more momentous than you would have ever imagined. There’s no possible way that you will ever be the same after this, regardless of what happens.

What has happened will have been enough to change you completely.

And then Tony tongues the sharp point of one of his deadly teeth, a strange glint in his dark eyes, and you are thrust back into the present, aware and frightened of what you’ve asked for.

Tony no longer seems hesitant, not when he grazes the tip of his nose against your clit. Not when he inhales your scent, moans on the exhale. And certainly not when he covers your clit with his mouth, lips and tongue shockingly cold against your hypersensitive flesh.

“Tony!” your practically scream. “Fuck, Tony!”

And he moans at the sound of your voice saying his name, the noise vibrating against your pussy, making you squirm. Your hands find his hair, soft between your fingers. Having something to grab on to is somewhat grounding, but you can feel him move against you, your hands not guiding him but just touching, and that only adds to the realization of what you’re doing. Only makes you that more desperate.

There’s no build up to get used to the sensations. Tony starts immediately licking and sucking your clit like he can’t help himself. Like he’d want nothing more than to eat you up here on his sofa. And you’d let him too, let him have all of you if that’s what he wanted. More than just your blood or your pussy. You’d let him devour you whole.

Your body arches and you push against him, making him bury his face harder against you. Tony flattens his tongue and licks at your clit, then moves lower, and lower, tongue lapping at your entrance, then, the sensitive spot between your pussy and asshole.

You’ve wanted this, dreamed about it, and now that you have him, it’s so much more than you could have ever imagined. And when he slides a finger into you, easily with the aid of how wet you are for him, you can barely hold yourself together.

Tony pumps his finger in and out of you, slowly, while his tongue plays with your clit, explores your folds. You could cry, you feel so good, and when he adds another, you do. Tears spill down your cheeks as his fingers fuck you, pressing against your soft inner walls and curving just right.

As he pumps into you, the inside of his knuckles rub against a spot below your clit that you never even knew was there, and you can feel that pressure building, that feeling growing low in your belly.

Tony’s mouth leaves your pussy and his thumb finds your clit, his strong, dexterous fingers touching you in all the places that you need. He kisses your inner thigh, licks at the skin there, sucks, nips, and you jerk at the sensation. His works at the soft skin, sucking a bruise into your flesh.

You couldn’t stop it if you wanted. You come. Hips rolling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You hands still gripping his hair tight. Your eyes are pressed closed, the wetness of your tear still lingering on your cheeks.

And then – he bites. And it’s euphoric. There’s ringing in your ears like the aftermath of a scream, and maybe you did, your voice rough and raw as you call his name, as you plead for something that you don’t even know you want.

Everything is black, your entire body narrowed down to his fingers filling you up and his mouth sucking your blood. You can’t even hold on to him anymore, your hands drop from his hair as you come down from your orgasm, Tony still sucking on the tender and bruised skin of your punctured thigh.

You feel weak, only moving when Tony wipes his mouth on the inside of your thigh. And then he lifts up, face to face with you and you make a feeble attempt to kiss him, instinctively. You can smell the bitter copper scent on him as he turns his face to the side, nuzzles his cheek against yours.

He’s warm now, such a drastic difference than from before. Warm, pink cheeked, thin lips red and slightly swollen. You could mistake him for human.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Tony says. “Can you walk?”

You nod your head, but you sway as you stand. Without hesitation, he picks up like he did before, and carries you effortlessly up the stairs and toward your room. The walk is peaceful, silent, and you let the lull of his footsteps calm you. You close your eyes and almost as soon as you do, you are in your bed, warm and comfortable under the blankets.

Tony stands above you and you hold onto his hand, then run your fingers up his arm, from his wrist, softly, to his elbow. How long will you be able to touch him like this? Now that you’ve had him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to let him go.

“Will you come see me?” You ask. “Tomorrow night? Please.”

Tony gently takes your hand off of his elbow and brings it up to his lips. He kisses your knuckles, almost chaste. “Goodnight,” he says, eyes shimmering in the darkness of your room. “And sleep well. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”

if you’ve got love in your sights,

watch out, love bites

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #vampire tony stark #marvel imagine

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part four

Summary: Y/n and Draco find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader ft. Pansy Parkinson, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini

Warnings: Excessive smoking, Drinking, mature language and themes, sex, masturbation, 18+ content, reader discretion is highly advised

A/n: as always, thank you for reading WOS. This story has gotten so close to my heart over the last few weeks of writing it and I am grateful for every one that read part 1,2,3. And to everyone who guessed the Astoria plot line, Damn ya’ll are too good! 

I’d like to stress that smoking is injurious to health.

Word count: almost 4000

Part One, two & three if you haven’t caught up already

Thursday (Continued)

With his palms resting flat on the shower wall and his grey eyes fixed on the floor below, Draco allowed the lukewarm water to trail down his body and calm his nerves. 

Between the restlessness he’d felt after his father’s visit and the stinging feeling of remembering just what was expected of him, he’d barely managed to sleep a wink for three consecutive nights.

And how could he have gone to sleep when he knew you were in that classroom—waiting for him in your silky little dress. 

Oh..wait a minute. 

He smirked to himself when he remembered that he had destroyed the top half of your dress in an attempt to tug it off your shoulders. 

You looked absolutely stunning with the bottom half of your dress pushed back as you spread your legs wide open on top of a classroom desk—he had fucked you so fucking hard that day. 

Draco wrapped his hand around his length and began to pump slowly as he recalled the way you wrapped your legs around his torso as he moved in and out of you.

Your moans. 

He wondered if you were even aware of the effect your moans had on him. 

The way his name slipped out of your cherry lips and the way your tits bounced with every thrust only made him want to drive deeper into you. 

He let out a sharp grunt as he started to pump harder, fantasising about all the places he’d fuck you in.

He’d press you up against the shower wall and push himself deep into your cunt from behind, he’d lay you down on his desk and eat you out till you were a quivering mess before driving in and out of you, he would bend you over one of the common room sofas and fuck you so hard and fast if he ever got the chance to. 

He’d make you cum time and again till you were sore and dripping with his release—fuck. 

Draco let his high take all over him for a brief moment before opening his eyes when he heard his dresser drawer creak. 

He dismissed the strange sound and washed the remaining soap from his body before stepping out and towel drying his hair. 

“Draco! Y/n is here to see you.”  

Astoria? What on earth is she doing here? This can’t be good.

He frantically wrapped the towel around his torso and stepped outside the bathroom.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” He asked, observing the eye bags under your eyes. You were wearing a loose fitted white shirt with the sleeves pushed back and the top two buttons undone.

If Astoria wasn’t gaping at the exchange between the two of you, he would have had you pinned against the wall already. 

“I—I Just—” you began but before you could reach the end of your sentence, Theo jogged up to his door and stood right next to you, panting.

“Oh, you’re all here.Good.” He said with excitement saturated into his voice. “Apparently, there’s a party this Saturday night in the room of requirement and we are going—I am not taking no for an answer.” 

“That sounds like so much fun.” Astoria grinned and looked at Draco expectantly,making your stomach twist.

“It’s not like we have a choice.” Draco muttered still looking at you while Astoria beamed at him. 

“So, Y/n you were saying something?” Astoria politely turning the conversation back to you.

“I actually just came in here to talk about the party too.” You lied looking Draco directly in the eye.

Friday

Even though you were walking to class while bumping into a sea of students, your head was somewhere else. 

But of course Malfoy was sleeping around with other girls!

How could you have forgotten?! Maybe he was shagging Astoria outside that classroom the other nig—

“Going somewhere?” Draco asked as soon as he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into a gap in the corridor. 

“Yes, Away from you!” You spat angrily. “And I don’t appreciate you lurking around, pushing me into a wall every chance you get.”

“I just needed to talk to you y/l/n.”

“About what? Your girlfriend?” You blurted, instantly regretting your decision.

“She is not my girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Then what is she?!” 

What you heard next made the ground crumble from beneath you and you couldn’t help but wish you had paid more attention to your mother’s letters—especially the one about the announcement at the New year’s ball. 

~~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~

Dear Y/n,

Your father and I are looking forward to having you back home for Christmas. 

It will give us some quiet family time before the New Year’s Ball hosted by the Malfoys. I’ve heard it through the grapevine that young Malfoy is getting betrothed to one of the Greengrass sisters and they will officially be announcing the betrothal that night. 

Isn’t that absolutely fantastic?  

Let me know what sort of dress robe you’d like to wear to the Ball this year. I will make necessary arrangements. 

Send my regards to Adrian. 

Love,

Mum

~~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~~

Saturday

Vodka always tasted unpleasant to say the least. In fact, it burned. 

But it burned a lot less than the burn you felt watching Astoria reclining against Draco across the room.

Vodka always gave the worst type of hangover and with every gulp, you knew you were on a steady path to a regretful morning after. 

But the morning after drowning yourself in unadulterated vodka shots was better than watching the soon to be Fiancé of the boy you were slowly harbouring feelings for wear his blazer on top of her silver sequinned dress. 

What kind of a deranged person gets jealous over someone that was never theirs to begin with?

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the ridiculously attractive blonde boy dressed in all back, knocked back a few shots and happily accepted Pansy’s hand as she pulled you to the dance floor. 

One minute you were jumping around with Pansy, Blaise and Theo and the next minute, you were seeing nothing but pitch black darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Firm arms gripped your waist as you staggered back to your room after blacking out at the party. In all honesty, the person walking you wasn’t much help either with his bloodshot eyes and unsteady footsteps. 

“You— you shouldn’t have walked me to my room.” 

“I know.” Draco said simply as he watched you walk shakily up to your door.

“Go back to the party Draco.” You said with your voice wavering as he slowly inched closer and closer to you till you were firmly pressed against the door. “You know you shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I know.” He said once again before pressing his own Firewhisky laced lips with yours. “I know.” 

Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the way he held firmly onto your waist as his tongue collided with your own but you used your wand to unlock your door with your mouth still attached to his. 

Both of you entered the room bumping into furniture, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to your bed.

Sunday

“What is happening to this world again? Can someone please walk me through?— I am simply too hungover right now.” Pansy groaned, scratching her head as he opened the door to your shared dorm with Theo and Blaise right behind her. 

Having partied all night long, all three of them were too tired to make sense of the scene in front of them. 

“Yeah, I thought Malfoy was with Astoria now.” Theo scratched his chin at the sight of your head on Draco’s chest as you both slept. 

Pansy’s eyes widened when she heard Astoria’s name as she quickly ran inside the room. 

“Wake the fuck up you idiots.” She yelled using her wand to draw away the curtains making Draco groan as the morning light hit his eyes. 

“What’s all this ruckus about.” You mumbled snuggling closer to Draco as your eyes slowly opened to see a glaring pansy accompanied by Theo and Blaise. 

“I have invited Astoria up here to hang out with us, so both of you have a lot of explaining to do before she gets here.”

Monday

“So let me get this straight.” Theo began, as he took a long drag from one of Draco’s cigarettes. “Both of you have been fucking around—traumatising poor Blaise for the last two weeks, correct?”

Draco rolled his eyes, scoffing as he lit up another cigarette while you shrugged. 

The four of you were at the astronomy tower, reclining against the railings as the day faded away into a chilly winter evening. 

“And you two claim that you are not together, correct?”

At this, both you and Draco turned to look at each other—as if questioning each other about the status of your relationship. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You finally said, slowly breaking eye contact with Draco. “He is getting betrothed to Astoria anyway.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Pansy asked, her face barely visible from all the smoke she was exhaling. 

“Never been better.” You lied, reaching for a cigarette for yourself. You placed the filter end in between your lips and lit it up, inhaling quickly. 

The second you did, tears automatically started to stream from your eyes as you started to cough. 

Draco shook his head and turned to you. 

“Here.” He muttered taking a step towards you, before taking a deep drag from the cancer stick in between his fingers. 

With his free hand raked inside your hair, he pulled your face closer to his until his lips were barely touching yours.

“Inhale y/n.” He murmured, as wisps of smoke left his lips and entered yours. 

You were too preoccupied by his proximity to notice the gagging sounds your friends were making beside you. 

Tuesday

On your way to the library after class, you heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy right outside the dungeons. 

He was going on and on about a ring and how irresponsible Draco was for not getting one made already. Christmas holidays were nearing and Lucius was sure Draco would tarnish the Malfoy family name by not having a ring made on time.

You simply didn’t understand why the Malfoy’s couldn't just use an old family heirloom but you decided to not question it as you walked past them—watching the tired and defeated expression on Draco’s face.

Wednesday

Draco lay on his bed, fiddling with an oval cut emerald ring with the letter “M” engraved on the back of it. The ring had been with the Malfoy women for generations and he simply could not picture the ring on Astoria’s fingers. 

And even though he had no say on his betrothal, he wanted to have a say on the ring and so he had insisted on getting something else made for Astoria. 

But the last two weeks had gone by in a matter of seconds so he did not find the time to, and could not even be bothered to go and have another ring made.

He had known about his impending engagement since the beginning of the year. He’d taken Astoria out several times but he knew there was nothing to that relationship besides sex and chaste kisses on the cheeks exchanged during family dinners.

He didn’t really mind at first, everything felt fine and he simply craved the validation of his father. 

Draco was doing just fine before you came along. 

Sure, life was a little lacklustre. The sky wasn’t as azure, his morning coffee wasn’t as aromatic, and cigarettes were simply means of deteriorating his lungs.

But now, things had shifted a little. 

He felt happier than he had felt in a really long time.

Just as he was opening up his drawer to put away the family heirloom, you knocked on his door—looking breathless. 

“I’m sorry but I overheard your conversation with your father and I think I might be able to help.”

“Huh?” Draco asked, tilting his head,watching you as you grabbed his left hand and dropped a shiny Amethyst ring in the palm of his hands. 

“I had it made for my birthday last month.” You shrugged, it’ll help you keep your father off your back till you get another made.”

If he hadn't fallen in love with you already, he surely did in that particular moment, as he pulled you into his arms, desperately crashing his lips on top of yours. 

Fuck validation. 

Fuck everything. 

Fuck everyone. 

Thursday

Your back firmly pressed against his bare chest—his heart beat calm and steady. 

Draco had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he possessively pulled you closer to him the way he always did. 

That is how you had woken up. 

Cuddled up with him in his incredibly snug and comfortable bed within four walls enclosed with the smell of bourbon, mixed with the smell of soap, sex and his absurdly expensive cigarettes. 

Even with your eyes still shut, your lips couldn’t help but curve upwards when you felt his breathing gently tickle the back of your neck. 

That is how you had woken up that morning and you honestly wouldn’t mind waking up like that for the mornings to come. 

“Morning Y/l/n.” 

His raspy and deep morning voice sent shivers down your spine as his soft lips came in contact with the spot right below your ears. 

“Morning.” 

He continued to sensually suckle and nibble that particular spot and you suddenly found yourself wanting to be suckled and nibbled on other places. 

“Draco.” You hummed pushing yourself further into his embrace. There was something so fulfilling and satisfying about the way you fit into each other's embraces. Entangled arms, limbs and all. 

The hands that were wrapped securely around your waist now trailed upwards until they found your breasts. 

The feel of his hands taking their own sweet time—softly kneading your sensitive flesh was enough to have you writhing against him 

He made sure to take his time and give equal attention to both your breasts, using his slender fingers to pinch and tug at your hardened buds till you were pushing your hips further back towards him—craving friction, any type of friction really. 

“Easy now.” He lazily whispered into your ear as you started to grind your hips urgently against his erection aching to feel him inside of you again. 

You were empty and missed the feeling of being full but he was nowhere near done with worshiping your breasts—making you restless and impatient with each squeeze. 

“Draco.” You tilted your head backwards and sighed into his neck.“I—I need you to fuck me. Please—I just want to feel you inside me.” 

Draco let out a small chuckle at the directness of your words.

If someone had told him that the same girl that tried to hex him so many times in the past would be saying that to him, he would have told them to get themselves checked at st. Mungos. 

“Relax Darling. I’ll take take of you.” He murmured before trailing his lips down your neck and towards your shoulder placing mellow and relaxed kisses all the way. 

“Draco please.” You whined, grinding your hips harder—desperate tears threatening to leak out of your eyes when you felt his hand on your hip, slowing you down. 

“That’s it. Such a good girl.” He whispered encouragingly into your ear as you let his hands guide you—moving your hips in excruciatingly slow circles against him while he resumed kissing your neck and bare shoulders. 

“Atta girl. Yes that’s it. Keep doing that.” 

His kisses were a stark contrast to his lustful, ravenous and angry kisses from the previous night and the kisses only left you craving even more.

“Please Draco—Fuck me. Please just fuck me.” 

“Look at you, begging for it.” He said in a hoarse whisper as the tip of his cock made contact with your already soaking wet folds and all you could do was let out a muffled moan into your pillow. 

The tip of his cock only slipped halfway inside of you before he pulled out again, teasing.

“You’re dripping wet.” 

“Draco..” you whined.

“Tell me darling, who made your pussy this wet?” 

“You did. Draco Lucius Malfoy—Only you.” 

He loved hearing you beg, he loved it only second to the way you said moaned his name and so he finally entered you allowing his cock to completely stretch you out and fill you up. 

With his perfect teeth bared, Draco peppered kisses onto your shoulders, nibbling gently as he rocked his hips at a slow but steady pace—all the while mumbling sweet nothings into your skin about how well you took him, and how good he felt being inside of you.

The way his skilled hands tugged, twisted and pinched your nipples made you feel an other worldly sort of pleasure—causing you to whimper and moan his name,moving your own hips, trying to feel him deeper inside your walls.

“Shhhh—easy there.” He whispered against your neck. “Just let go.. Focus on feeling every inch of me buried deep inside your pretty little cunt. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and stopped moving your hips and used  one of your arms to hold onto his neck as you relaxed into him. 

“That’s it y/n, Just like that.” He coaxed, running his hand up and down your body before firmly resting on your hip as he fucked you nice and slow. 

There was something different and unexpected about his thrusts, something strange and foreign about the way he used his thumb to rub slow and sensual circles on your clit.

“You feel so good y/n. Your pussy feels so amazing.” 

Your moans muddled into one and his movements rocked the bed as he made love to you, pushing you closer and closer towards your orgasm. 

“Fuck—Im so close.” You moaned, burying your head deep into the pillow as Draco picked up his pace pushing his cock in harder and deeper with each thrust. 

“Oh fuck. yes Draco..yes.” You moaned as he dug his nails onto your hips forming crescent shaped indentations as he pushed himself deeper, hitting just the right spot over and over again, making your walls clench up. 

“Draco…” 

“Cum for me, Angel. Cum with me.” He groaned,making both of you ride out our highs till his warm seed spurted deep inside of you. 

When he pulled out of you, some of the warm liquid had already managed to seep out of you and trickle down your inner thigh.  

After taking a brief second to catch his breath, Draco shifted lower into the bed till he was in just in between your legs. 

“I could get used to waking up like this.” He smirked looking up at you. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy and kind of fluffy, falling on his forehead but not yet covering his stormy greys. 

“Like what?” You teased. 

“Don't play with me y/l.n.” He warned with a wicked gleam making the grey hues in his eyes brighten into a brilliant. It felt like his eyes changed colors from blue to grey according to his moods. 

“I could get used to waking up like this too.” You said softly as he tried to push back everything that had managed to trickle out. 

Right before Draco could even reply, his door creaked open. 

“Malfoy, Astoria is waiting for you in the common roo—fuck not this again.” Blaise groaned as you pulled the sheets over your body. 

Friday

On your last evening at school before Christmas break, you found yourself perched on the windosill, nestled in between Draco’s arms and limbs in the classroom that started it all.

The pad of his right thumb traced slow, almost lazy circles on your hand while he held his cigarette in his left hand. 

The lit tip of his cigarette was the same shade as the sunset in the tangerine sky and you took deep breaths to try and soak him and the smoke rings that escaped his lips up because you weren't sure if you’d get to be with him again. 

“What are you doing y/l/n?” He asked when he noticed you breathing in and out. 

“Nothing.” 

“Please.” Draco chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?” you asked, turning your head to look at him—the way the last rays of the setting sun caught up on his eyelashes only making you fall harder than you already had.

“This look y/n.” He kinked his eyebrows and tried to mimic your expression. “This is the look you have on your face wherever you are up to something—like  when you try and fix your failed potion in Potions class. Actually, you even make this face when you mix sugar into your tea.” 

“Im just—” You clicked your tongue in frustration. “I’m just going to miss this, I guess.” 

Your words made his expressions soften because he understood. 

How could he have not?

He had spent the whole of last night watching you sleep—the way your chest was rising and falling, the way your heart was beating against his.

He had spent the last hour trying to store the scent of your fruity shampoo deep inside his memory banks because he wasn’t sure if there would be a next time. 

“Let’s stay back at Hogwarts”  He mumbled, pulling you closer to him. “It’ll just be us, it will be good.”

“If only.” You sighed as you rested the back of your head at the crook of his neck. “But I have to go back home and explain the whole situation with Adrian and you…” 

Both of you went silent for a bit. 

“Give me your hand y/n.” He finally broke the silence as you turned around and  looked at him quizzically. “I want to give you something.”

You turned your body around so you could face him better. The strong winter breeze blew his hair towards his eyes, making you want to reach up and push those stray hairs away. Instead, you simply placed your hand on his. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You rolled my eyes at him before squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Are they closed?” 

You nodded and you felt him slip something onto your finger and you quickly  opened one eye to take a peek and It didn't even take you a second to realize he had slipped an emerald ring from onto your finger.

“Draco. I really don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes shut.” He snapped. 

“But I can’t take this.” 

“I owed you a ring y/n.” He said holding your hand in his to look at the ring on your finger making a type of warmth spread over your entire body. “Keep it till I get the other ring made.” 

You simply stared at the ring unable to form words with your mouth until you felt him shift beside you as he got back up to his feet. 

“Don’t overthink it y/n—I’ll see you at the ball.” 

You hummed as you quietly watched him walk away from you, ignoring the stab your felt in your heart with every step he took. But before you could process your emotions fully, Draco turned on his heel and walked towards you— instantly cupping your face in his hands. 

“Draco what are-”

His lips ardently crushed yours before you could even finish your sentence

There was an abrupt kind of finality in the way he moved his lips against yours. It was like he was kissing you for the last time . 

“I’ll be thinking of you y/l/n.” 

To be continued..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 5 teaser:

Draco’s features softened as he slowly shifted and got up from the reading nook in his bedroom to fully open his window.

You shielded yourself as cold drops of rain started to hit your face. “What in the actual fuck?”

“Shut up and follow me.” He said as he climbed out of the window and onto the ledge.

“Are you mental?”

“Just do as I say.” He said helping you onto the ledge.

Both of you laughed hysterically as the rain seeped through our clothes as you sat on the ledge with you bare feet dangling in the air.

One wrong move and both of you could fall to your respective deaths. But there came an adrenaline rush with the risk of it all.

___________________________

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[majesticwren]

The Trickster's Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

A/N: I've been a bit absent from the scenes recently and for that, I apologise. Sometimes I have too much going on and I struggle... I haven't written a word in 3 weeks, just a couple of days ago I finally managed to finish the last updated chapter on my Ao3 version of this work, but it literally took me ages. And now... It seems like I can at least milk a few words? Maybe? ANYWAYS besides all of this mumbling, I thought to update the fanfic on this side too, since... I am clearly not updating it as often as I should be doing. :') As always I thank you for all your support 💕 I send you love ✨ Edit: this chapter has been edited.

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 4000. Trigger Warnings: Mention of Injuries, Mention of Physical Disability and Muscle Atrophy, Slight Violence and Assault - Angrboda and Ivar Are Their Own Trigger Warning. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics .

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

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Chapter 6 - Bones.

( Gif credit to owner )

Angrboda stood in front of the door for a moment, looking over the room.

Ivar the Boneless laid on his bed, surrounded and covered in pelts. He seemed to be held in a peaceful sleep.

Approaching, Angrboda observed how his bare chest moved and listened to the sound of his breath.

The room smelled of redwood and leather.

But she could not find a trace of pain. Ivar’s aura was quiet and peaceful, possibly because of the veil of his sleep. But the air didn’t carry any leftover of the suffering she was ready to absorb.

“Ivar.” She sat by his side, gently calling his name. She needed to understand his situation before she could do anything.

Angrboda lightly caressed his forehead to feel his temperature. He felt surprisingly cool.

Ivar woke up, startled by her touch. In an automatic reflex, he reached for her wrist, pushing away her hand, pointing his green-grey eyes on her. His irises had the colour of stirred seas.

It took him a second to recognize her, but as soon as he did, his grip on her wrist became softer and a smile opened on his lips. “You finally arrived. Took you long enough. I could be dead by now!”

Angrboda shook her head. His humour lit a smile on her face. “For someone who was in great pain, you surely have a big mouth.”

Angrboda shifted, looking around. Her eyes moved on Ivar’s figure, looking for visible problems. Of course, his legs were covered. She well knew he was never comfortable showing them.

Ivar's smile grew, and his head dropped on his pillow, while he took a deep breath. “Ah, but who said I was in pain, uh?”

“Ivar.” Finally, Angrboda started to get a hint of what was happening.

She looked at him, crossing the physical barrier; his aura surrounded her, flooding through her own.

There was no pain, no discomfort… Nothing, more than his usual suffering.

There was, though, plenty of amusement. He found that situation… Funny.

Ivar kept eye contact, knowing perfectly that he could not hold any secret from her now, and that seemed to bust his confidence and entertainment even more.

“You devil!” Angrboda gave him a push, and then another more aggressively. “You! You cannot play with people like this!”

“Why?”

Ivar sat in front of her and grabbed her arms, stopping her. His eyes burned, as his smile did. He looked at her, studying her expression like she just did with his aura.

He liked to manipulate people and challenge them. She knew him very well. She knew he was mostly annoying, to others, for those specific reasons; but that was his nature, playing with people's minds made him stronger, more intelligent, more able to predict people's actions. Ivar had done that since he was a kid and became very good.

So good, in fact, that the Gods often whispered that his mindpower and manipulation were his greatest features.

And Angrboda, like anyone, could fall victim to his tricks at any point.

Like now.

She tried to pull away from his grip but didn’t apply her entire force.

If she wanted, she could easily free herself up, and bring havoc in the Hall. But she knew that uncovering his little game would put Ivar in a worse position. So, she kept quiet.

Honestly, she was more relieved than angry.

“You had me worried sick! I thought…”

“What did you think?”

Ivar was thirsty for information, always. It was clear from the way he looked at her and tipped his head to the side. Angrboda could see the tip of his tongue, between his white, exposed teeth.

She pushed him again, with no real intention of hurting him. But she knew, at this point, it had been a game. She wondered how extended his mind game was. Was it just for giggles? Or did he aim for something bigger?

“I thought you were hurt. Damn, Ivar, I was ready for the worst.”

“Good, that’s a good thing.”

Angrboda just looked him in the eye for a long second, and then pulled away from his grasp, shaking her head.

“You’re a bastard, you know that!? You shouldn’t play like that. Not with me.”

“Who says I was playing with you?”

A smart smirk appeared on his lips, and more desire for her reaction popped into his aura. He wanted to play, he seemed bored, or angry, or whatever feeling made him particularly interested in occupying his mind with that kind of tricks.

He was good.

And that was another reason why Angrboda would have not uncovered him. It was his greatest strength.

“You made me cross the forest, in the middle of the night! Gods, you… What am I supposed to do now!?”

“You could stay, and keep me company.”

A spike of loneliness betrayed him. Under all his cockiness, confidence, boredom, and curiosity. And even if it was just a fracture of his feelings, expressed in the worst possible way – as a spoiled child would do… Angrboda still could not deny him that.

“Couldn’t you say that, then!?”

“No one would have come looking for you if it wasn’t for an emergency.”

Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling, and shook her head, then, after a sigh, she moved quickly, giving him another push that made him fall backwards in the bed.

“Damn you. Everyone is worried sick! Your mother is on the verge of a crisis and you play!? Ivar…”

“Yes, yes… I know, blah, blah, blah… Keep the speech for yourself, spare me.”

“Never again, Ivar. Do you hear me?”

Angrboda leaned closed, taking his chin between her fingers, so he would look at her in the eye. “Never again. You can play with everyone. Not me.”

“Why? Do you think you’re any different?! I can play with anyone I desire to.”

“Not me.”

His smile slowly decreased, while he gradually absorbed the pride and decision that enlightened her green eyes.

So, he pushed her touch away, turning his head. A heavy breath left his chest, while his loneliness peaked once again.

It was difficult to understand someone like Ivar. Even more, to like him. Angrboda was sure that if she didn’t have her gift, if she could just see him as what he showed to everyone… Then she would be very, very far from being so close to him.

“You spoil all the fun.”

“There was no fun, Ivar.”

She didn’t want to say how many scenarios she had ready, in her mind. She didn’t want him to think he looked weak. And implying he could be… She knew it always was a mistake, because it could anger him.

Angrboda sighed, getting up and sliding her bag off her shoulders. She also laid off her weapons, leaving on the table the axe she always took everywhere, and her dagger.

“I will always be here. I will always come, whenever you call me. But I want to trust you, now and forever. So, don’t play with me. Your tricks don’t work on me and you know it.”

“Ok. I’ve got it. I wasn’t playing with you by the way. There was something else I wanted to see.”

“What?”

Angrboda opened her bag, starting to spread her things on the table. It needed to appear like she was working, or had worked, on him.

“I wanted to see if Hvitserk would do it.”

His words left his chest in a heavy breath – as if it was actually painful to be honest, but Angrboda appreciated it.

There wasn’t much else she could say on the matter, and… She could not expect Ivar to change his nature. He tested people, often.

So, she didn’t say anything, but a little smile appeared on her lips.

Ivar the Boneless was a difficult individual but besides all his flaws, she was just grateful to the Gods that he was fine and nothing happened.

“Ok. That’s good enough. Now, I will indulge and keep you company. But I want something from you.”

Angrboda turned, offering Ivar a smirk. She briefly thought that he wasn’t the only smart person in the room. But then she kept that thought to herself.

Ivar lifted his chest from the mattress, pinning himself down with his elbows. His curiosity took over, so he just nodded, impatiently waiting for her request.

“Since I’m here, let me have a look at your legs. It’s been a while…”

“No.” Ivar sharply cut her words.

A sudden dark and cold wall grew between them. Ivar froze, immediately looking away. His great deal of shame filled the air with a sour taste.

Angrboda knew how much Ivar’s legs brought him embarrassment; she could feel how different he felt.

Sometimes when he fell into some dark corners of his mind, his crippling situation would make him feel like a monster, a disgrace… Not as worthy as anyone else.

It was in those moments that Angrboda was grateful for his great, great confidence; because just that could save him.

She didn’t want to aggravate his embarrassment, but it had been a while since the last time she had a look… And she needed to know if there were any changes.

“Ivar…”

“I said no. Go back to your forest corner.” He snapped, bitter as usual.

But his aura betrayed him, as always.

Angrboda always wanted to scoop him up and show him kindness – not in a way that would address him as weak, not like a mother… But to bring, if possible, relief to his often tormented soul.

“Let me stay. Let me look the part. If tomorrow you will present the herbs compresses, it would look like I was here for a reason. Besides, you owe me. And… I never had the chance to check on your last wound.”

Ivar huffed. His face remained turned away, his eyes pointed toward the corner. He didn’t move. He was holding his breath. His discomfort vibrated in the air, silent but tangible.

But they both knew she wasn’t wrong.

So, he huffed and then nodded.

Ivar laid back, closing his eyes, and then didn’t move another muscle.

So, just then, Angrboda slowly moved closer with no intention of doing any sudden movements, not wanting to scare him.

She gently moved the pelts, uncovering Ivar’s legs.

He immediately froze, holding his breath. His hands squeezed the soft and warm cover of pelts that surrounded him.

Angrboda’s reaction was controlled and natural. It wasn’t the first time she saw his legs, and it possibly wouldn’t be the last. She was well acquainted with that sight. Her eyes contained the wisdom of a healer who saw worse. And the curiosity of a unique condition.

Her eyes respectfully caressed his deformed and fragile bones and his thin muscles.

Angrboda wasn’t scared of what she saw and Ivar never lost any degree of importance to her, just because of that unfixable, tremendous flaw.

She didn’t say anything. Because Ivar was a warrior, and his pride didn’t need reassurance.

She moved closer, observing the old scars that covered his discoloured, thin skin.

“How’s the pain?”

At first, he answered just with a grunt, but then pushed words out of his lungs. “Usual. No change. Some days hurt more than others, but always bearable.”

No human could walk the Earth every day with his amount of pain, and resist like it was nothing. But Ivar managed, always.

It was easy to think he would not have feeling in his legs – but that was wrong.

Angrboda hesitated a second before she touched him, and then she had to ignore the shiver that shook Ivar.

The pressure of his inflamed nerves crossed his skin, flowing into Angrboda’s bones. But she resisted, holding his pain, while she explored his deformed legs with a light but expert touch.

Angrboda studied his bones, easily finding their scars on every point they once snapped.

It looked like everything was in order. No changes. No new injuries.

His muscles were underdeveloped and still, stretched thin, but unchanged.

She nodded to herself, a tiny smile appeared on her lips, together with a relieved sigh.

“Everything appears to be in order.”

She broke contact, and as soon as her hand lifted from his skin, Ivar finally seemed to find some ease.

“I will apply a compress that hopefully will help with the pain, at least for a while. And then, I can help you furthermore, if you let me.”

“How?”

“I could massage your spine, ease the tension of your muscles and nerves. It will help, you know it does…”

Many would think the only origin of his pain would be his legs, but that was a wrong notion.

The stress he constantly put his back and arms under, to drag his weight around, could equally break him. And, fixing the nerves in his back would ease his leg pain for longer than otherwise.

She knew he felt uncovered and seen, like the nerve of an open wound. She didn’t necessarily want to sound as if she was preaching. But she knew how to help him, and for once he could let her.

“Ok. Do as you must.”

Angrboda didn’t have the time to feel victorious, because she heard the door handle creak.

By the time the door opened Ivar went back to an unconscious state, but he made sure to pretend that his breath was broken.

Angrboda stood up, turning towards the table, thinking it would be useful to pretend she was busy.

And the servant, the one she didn’t know, a blond girl with a slim figure and big, light eyes, stepped in.

She was hesitant.

Now, Angrboda had a moment to feel her aura. And her entire being was shaking, but not by fear; her emotions were all over the place.

She had a clear taste for ambition and thirst for freedom but didn’t appear too bright, or strong.

“The ale and hot water you asked.”

Even her voice seemed to shake.

Then again, Angrboda could not judge her, because she was lucky enough to be a free woman. And that girl… Only the Gods knew what she went through.

So, as a woman, she could imagine where her thoughts and emotions came from. Part of her even wished the girl could find what she looked for; she didn’t like the culture of slaves her people had.

“Thank you. Put the ale by the bedside, and the water by the fire.”

Angrboda didn’t pay too much attention to her, then. Thinking, the quicker she would do her task, the quicker she would leave. She started to gather some mint leaves on the table, getting ready to prepare her mixture, while the servant executed her request.

Suddenly, the room filled with a spike of disgust – the air filled with its bitter, stale taste, a stranger’s emotion that Angrboda felt on her tongue.

And she knew exactly from whom it came and why.

The servant behind her, shook in deep fear, dictated by the revulsion she felt once her eyes caught a glimpse of Ivar’s legs.

Angrboda slowly raised her head. Her entire body froze and filled with tension. Her first reaction was the immediate need to be protective, and like a wolf when its territory was invaded, she felt the need to assert dominance. Sudden rage mixed with her blood.

She turned, pointing her green fiery eyes at the other woman. Her movement startled the girl enough to break her eye contact with Ivar’s figure.

“What is your name?” Angrboda asked, her tone was controlled and low – but not any less intimidating.

She didn’t inherit her father’s height; her body structure resembled more the femininity of her mother’s. But she still had the looks and presence of a shieldmaiden. And the servant seemed to pick on it because, now, she kept her head hanging low, not looking at Angrboda.

“Margrethe.”

Angrboda just looked at her, for a long moment, then quickly moved her hand, signalling to the girl to move, and finish her job.

Margrethe seemed happy to accommodate her. Her steps were quick and her movements more mechanical than anything else.

Angrboda waited patiently as she finished her task - only to ensure she would have free hands and no risk of spilling anything.

She keept her eyes firmly fixed on the servant. As if she was prey.

And when Margrethe turned over, ready to leave, Angrboda saw her eyes quickly moving back on Ivar’s legs, just to then shoot back to pay attention to the floor.

Another shot of disgust filled the air.

Angrboda twitched.

She moved swiftly, grabbing the servant girl's arm and pulling it behind her back. Angrboda then pushed Margrethe against the wall, pulling her arm in an uncomfortable position of submission.

The girl gasped, and hissed, but didn’t try to escape her hold. Her sudden fear tamed her.

Leaning closer to her ear, Angrboda pushed her harder against the wall, willing to hurt her even if only a tiny bit.

“Eyes on the ground, Margrethe.” Her voice musically bent in a threat. “He is your master, don’t ever think to have the permission to look at him. Do you understand me?”

Margrethe's fear grew and shook her like a thin naked stem in the wind. But also, anger and insubordination sparkled all around her, that was a surprise.

Angrboda, though, wasn’t inclined into praising it. She pulled her arm tighter, welcoming her little squeak. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Remember your place.”

Angrboda let her go, stepping away as quickly as she did to grab her.

Margrethe took a moment too long to catch her breath, and her eyes raised, meeting Angrboda’s, making her resentment so obvious.

Angrboda welcomed her look with a smile, raising an eyebrow. “Now go, I don’t want to see you.”

Margrethe nodded, relieved to be dismissed, and she lowered her head, ready to leave.

“And make yourself useful, let the Queen know that her son will be fine,” Angrboda said just before Margrethe left the room – making sure to put enough emphasis on Ivar’s role in that society.

He was a Son of Ragnar Lothbrok. He was a descendent of Odin, and with or without his disability, he was one of the greatest men alive.

Angrboda then went back to her business, with her leaves and spices.

Behind her, Ivar moved – a deep sigh left his lungs and she felt his eyes on her back.

Feeling his wounded pride, Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling, huffing.

“What?”

“You overstepped.”

“Did I?”

Angrboda turned, but Ivar now avoided her eyes, looking away. Paying more attention to filling a horn up with ale.

His pride and resentment filled the room, and Angrboda understood him – or at least partly understood him. But wouldn’t stand entirely the kind of thoughts that filled his mind.

“I don’t need your protection. Your acting made me look weak. Do you think I’m weak?”

Finally, his piercing eyes crossed hers. His face froze in such a serious look – but Angrboda could see his mind moving.

Angrboda just stood there, looking at him. Then she shook her head. “You do not look weak. You never will.”

“She will now run around, telling my brothers what she saw, what you did.”

“And? If she oversteps, we will make her pay the respect she owes you.”

Ivar remained silent, but his anger remained tangible. There was a thick, dark cloud that surrounded him.

Angrboda knew he was thinking about possibilities, outcomes, and solutions – planning.

She knew the situation in that household was always tense, and Ivar had to work constantly and harder than anyone else to ensure his worth to people… But she would never stand silent in front of such a level of disrespect.

She decided that she didn’t like that servant – she was too zealous for her liking.

An unsteady and awkward silence fell back in the room, like a thick, heavy cover, accompanied just by the crackling song of the firepit and Ivar’s gulps while he drank his ale.

Angrboda went back to preparing the compress, patiently mixing the herbs with some water.

When it was ready, she proceeded to gently spread the vicious green mixture onto Ivar’s legs, trying to respect his discomfort. Once done, Angrboda wrapped his legs in pieces of thick fabric.

“Now roll over.” She encouraged him, nodding.

Ivar, though, remained still in his position, his eyes pointed at her, once again studying every single one of her expressions.

He kept his horn close to his face, tipping his head to the side. “Why don’t you behave like everyone else?”

Angrboda just looked at him.

She wondered what he meant. On a general basis? Or with him specifically?

Why wasn’t she constantly avoiding him, or scared of him, or mistrustful?

“Because I’m not like everyone else.”

It was a vague answer, yet full of meaning. There was nothing else Angrboda could say.

Because she wasn’t like the others, therefore she didn’t behave like the most.

Angrboda sat by his side, her eyes caressed, slowly, his features. “Is it so bad, for you, to accept I might just feel affection?”

“Yes.”

Ivar had a deep-rooted stubbornness to himself. It was easier, for him, to push people away than letting them close enough. And Angrboda already had a role that he considered dangerous – because he trusted her.

And that, to him, seemed like a weakness sometimes.

“Roll over, Ivar.”

Angrboda shook his feelings off her, shrugging, and then just sat there, expecting him to do as she said.

Ivar took a sip of his drink, and then obeyed.

While he found a comfortable position in the pelts, Angrboda moved, rinsing her dirty hands in the bucket of warm water by the fire. Then, she returned to Ivar, climbing on the bed.

Angrboda kneeled by his side and then, slowly and gently, started massaging his back.

Her hands moved firmly across that land of muscles and skin, skillfully, she followed the edges of his muscles and found the nerves which needed to be eased of tension. And once again, the silence fell between them, every now and then broken by Ivar’s sighs.

She knew he would have never admitted openly how much she was helping… But it didn’t matter, she didn’t need his words.

“Hvitserk said Ragnar came back.”

She decided to break the silence, bringing in a conversation she thought worth having, that might distract both of them from previous topics.

Ivar remained still and silent, for a second, and then he nodded, but didn’t answer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know…”

“I respect my father. To me, he will always be the greatest man: Ragnar Lothbrok, the mighty. I don’t care what others say.”

“What do other people say?”

“They say he is now weak – and that he betrayed us all… I don’t think he did. I think he did what was best for his people.”

“It’s easy to judge a man by a mistake.”

A spike of pride coloured Ivar’s aura and mixed with envy and anger. “I know he spoke with my brothers. I of course was forced to stay back – I couldn’t follow them. I know he asked them to go with him to England.”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I know they all said no. Ungrateful bastards…”

“Would you want to go?”

“Yes.”

Angrboda remained silent for a while. She knew perfectly that people would always underestimate Ivar. She knew people like his mother, even out of a place of love, would always try and protect him, she did it too sometimes, and they would cocoon him in a cage that a spirit like Ivar’s could never be trapped in, because it would mean absolute destruction.

Ivar had to bloom and grow, he had to find his way as a warrior, as any Viking. And he was destined to great things, especially because of his resilience.

“If it is the will of the Gods, then you should go, follow your path.”

“He didn’t ask me though. Even he doesn’t see me as worthy…”

Once again, she could not speak for Ragnar, but she knew that Ivar inherited his brilliance from his father – as Floki depicted the man, he was a strategist, as much as Ivar. So, she doubted he wasn’t acting by an agenda, even in something as small as that.

Angrboda leaned closer to him. “Then make him see you. Make him see how worthy you are.”

#ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk #hvitserk rangarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk whiteshirt #angrboda #angrboda flokisdottir #floki #floki the boat builder #helga #ubbe #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #ragnar lothbrok #ragnar #lagertha #aslaug #harald finehair #bjorn #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn lothbrok #sons of ragnar #fanfic

[une-femme-de-lettres]

Fire on Fire

Summary: Upon being promoted to the rank of Fleet Admiral, Sakazuki is gifted and Omega to claim. You are the omega in question, but you have no intention of letting him do what he wants with you.

Characters: Alpha!Sakazuki, Omega!Reader

Parings: Alpha!Sakazuki x Omega!Reader

Word count: 4000 oopsie…

Warnings: ABO dynamics, explicit sexual content, dubcon/noncon, female-bodied reader

A/N: Still obsessed with Akainu - always up for ABO - enjoy!

You were drifting back and forth between sleep and consciousness. You couldn’t remember what just happened to you but you knew you were somewhere you didn’t know, you didn’t seem to recognize the smell invading your nostrils.

You could tell you were laying down on a bed as the material supporting your body was soft. You were on your side curled up on yourself, feeling a bit cold. You could feel the air brush against your naked skin as you only wore a light cotton shift.

A sudden ruffling of textile and a light pressure on your leg woke you up completely. Your muscles came to life in a burning pain, your head started turning as you sat up and spun around to face a large figure in front of you. The man towered over you as he stood at the end of the bed. Your heart rate accelerated, its movement so strong it left a void in your chest every time it beat.

You quickly recoiled and crawled to the headboard, your eyes fixated on the man’s figure. He was massive, dressed in a blood red suit. He started slowly removing his black leather gloves, staring at you the whole time. It was only after a few seconds that his scent reached your nose. You took a sharp inhale as the smell you had only been able to faintly detect when you were alone in the room grew more powerful, overwhelming almost.

He was an alpha. Your eyes must have widened as you put the pieces together because a smirk appeared on his stern face. Suddenly, he bent over and took hold of one of your ankles. His skin was hot against yours. Your mind still clouded with sleep, you were one second too late to react. He pulled you violently towards him. The garment that was covering you rose up your body as you were slid across the bed.

You tried to pull away from his grip, turning over to claw at the covers with your desperate hands. He griped the other ankle tightly. You suddenly remembered fragments of conversations you had prior to that. …offered to him…claimed…his…

Your stomach turned as the realization sank in a bit more. In an attempt to free yourself, you turned over again, forcing your weight into your legs. His arms crossed as your legs moved, it was your chance to jerk them free as his grip faltered. Once free, you ran for the door to the side of the room. You shouldn’t have underestimated the man’s reflexes. You barely had time to make it onto your feet and past him, his arm wrapped around your waist, practically crushing your stomach as he threw you back on the bed with a grunt.

This time he tried to pin you down on the bed by the arms. His hands circled your wrists and pressed them painfully into the mattress. You cried out and tried to use your legs again to hit him. You curled up to bring your legs up, hitting his chest and everything in range with your naked feet. In the mess that was your defense, your right foot hit his jaw, he recoiled slightly but still held you tight. Your foot rested shamelessly on his face, heel under his chin, as your leg stretched to push his head back.

He looked very annoyed, and if it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through your veins you would have laughed at the position you were in. The pull on his neck must have made him give in as you felt his hands let go. Your tore away from his imposing figure again and tried for the door again. This time, your head was dizzier from your exertion.

Again, once on your feet and ready to launch at the door he grabbed you. This time, he wrapped both his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground. Your legs swung around in the air as he pulled you tighter with a grunt.

“Stop fighting!” he shouted in your ear. The sound seemed to deafen you for a fraction of second, your heart jumping at the explosion of his voice.

“Never!” you shouted back, shaking your legs even harder. The force created by your movement forced his arms open and he dropped you. This time, you were a bit closer to the door and started running desperately, your breath catching in your throat.

You managed to open the door. The light of the corridor was bright compared to the dim atmosphere of the room. Light seeped into the room as you pulled the door open, heart racing at your imminent escape. Only for your hopes to be crushed as the door was slammed shut.

You didn’t have time to register the large hand pressed against the wood in front of your eyes as teeth sunk into your neck, spreading a burning pain through your whole body and making you cry out in agony. Your eyes opened wide, your body trembled and your heart stopped for a second.

He pulled away from you, your body could only drop to the ground and you quickly turned around and tried to no avail to hold onto the door. Your body slid down to the ground, your hands holding your bleeding neck. You started to cry, your eyes were full of terror as he watched you curled up and shaking against the door.

“I didn’t want to hurt you…” he said, sitting on the ground in front of you. He leaned back, supporting his weight with one hand on the floor. One of his legs was folded and he rested his other arm on his knee as he tried to catch his breath. His hand came up to his mouth to wipe the blood off of his lips, your blood.

He stared at you for a minute, his eyes filled with satisfaction. You stared right back, rage and fear filling your gaze as you were still holding your neck. The wound was bleeding profusely and wouldn’t stop. Your shift was stained with red and your skin was made sticky by the drying blood. You let out moans of pain, tears now falling from your eyes.

“Let me make it better,” he said, holding a hand out. You knew alphas could ease the pain of the bite after claiming an omega and help the wound heal faster, but you didn’t want him near you. In this moment, all you wanted was to curl up into a ball alone in a dark room and fall asleep, with no one to take your body and no thoughts to plague your mind.

He didn’t wait for your response and approached you. He did it slowly and quietly. A particular aura surrounded him, one that you hadn’t felt before. You reluctantly pulled your hands away from your neck and let yourself go. You closed your eyes, the last tears left to cry falling from your closed eyelids as you felt him pull you onto his lap, his tongue pressing on the skin or your neck. His arms wrapped around you and you winced.

The pain from the wound slowly eased and the only thing left to feel was the warmth of his tongue against your neck and the touch of his hands on your body. You moaned again quietly, only this time, there was no pain, only pleasure.

                                              You woke up to a quiet purring, your face pressed into a warm chest. It took you a minute to fully regain your senses. You were curled up on his lap, your face buried in his neck, as he was sitting on a couch. You could feel his purrs vibrate in his throat and it soothed your pain and your anger. You closed your eyes again, feeling the soft fabric of what you assumed to be one of his shirts around you.

Your skin felt clean and your body smelled fresh. All the blood from earlier was gone and you had to run your fingers on your neck and feel your healing wound to know it hadn’t been a dream. This was real, you’d been claimed by an alpha, the same one that was holding you right now.

You started moving, your body aching slightly. He let you go, watching you move off of him to sit further away on the couch in silence. He stood up and walked to a dresser where a pitcher of water and empty glasses were sitting. He filled one glass and brought it to you, you took it and drank eagerly, not remembering the last time you had something to drink, or eat for that matter.

He sat back down, his hands rubbing his thighs back and forth as he sighed. You both sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes. You watched him intently, preparing for anything he might try and do.

“I’m sorry it was so violent,” he finally said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. By that time, you had fully taken in your surroundings. You noticed he had removed the red jacket of his suit, the thing surely covered in your blood. “I had to claim you,” he continued. His words seemed to aim at convincing himself more than you.

Your blood heated up with anger again at the memory of his actions. And rage crept into your mind as you realized he wasn’t ready to take responsibility for them. “So what now you’re gonna tell me it was for my own protection or something?” you snapped at him. His eyes widened, probably not expecting these words from you and he thought for a second.

“No, it was purely selfish,” he corrected, looking over at you. You curled up a little more as you felt his gaze on you. “I wanted you,” he blurted out, standing up and walking over to the dresser, this time to pour alcohol into a small cup. He drank the content and turned back to you. “Although you are indeed better off with me as your mate, rather than a filthy pirate,” he admitted. You brows furrowed.

“Or that’s what you tell me…” you retorted, getting up to put the glass back where it was on the dresser. He didn’t seem to like the words that came out of your mouth. He stared down at you as you stood motionless beside him.

“Trust me I know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice catching slightly in his throat. You were surprised and looked back at him. “I’ve seen what they are capable of,” he continued, his gaze diving into yours, holding you in place as he spoke. “Turning omegas into sex slaves,” he said and you shivered, “keeping them in chains and collars so they don’t get claimed and every man can have their share.”

He spoke with such disdain in his voice. You adverted your eyes, your mind rushing with thoughts after what he told you. You shouldn’t have been surprised, you knew what cruelty the world was capable of. He tilted his head slightly, as to try and find your eyes.

“So I believe I’m not lying when I tell you you’re better off with me, Omega,” he concluded. The name he gave you at the end of his sentence filled you with revulsion. You snapped your head back at him without thinking.

“Y/N!” you yelled, immediately shutting your mouth and stepping back a bit at the realization. To your surprise he wasn’t angered by yet another little outburst of yours. He let out an amused chuckle instead and went with it.

“Sakazuki,” he replied as he moved back to sit on the couch. He moved one leg up so his ankle rested on his other knee and laid back, looking at you. You were suddenly aware of what you were wearing as his gaze traveled your partially covered body.

“You know your body will obey to me now even if you don’t,” he said matter-of-factually. You knew how true that statement was. And it annoyed you in the most profound way. You were trapped now, with no way to escape. You walked over to the armchair situated further in the corner and slumped down onto it. “But again, I’d rather not resort to violence with you,” he said, making you look at him.

“Because coercion is so much better…” you replied. He smirked. You found it fascinating how, no matter what his facial expression was, his eyebrows always seemed to be furrowed deeply.

“They really did get me a feisty one, didn’t they?” he said with a chuckle. You moved around in the chair, sitting sideways and letting your legs fold onto the armrest. You tried to ignore his comment, actually regretting your loss of ‘feistiness’. You were still quick witted and wanted to talk back every time he opened his mouth but you had lost a fire inside you after his bite.

“You will mate with me very soon, you might as well try to enjoy it.” His voice made you look at him but you quickly adverted your eyes as he started shedding his shirt.

“And why would I mate with you?” You asked, wincing at his choice of words. You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes, noticing for the first time the tattoo that covered his arm and shoulder. You were surprised such a stuck-up man would have a tattoo like that.

“The heat that follows the claiming of an alpha is very powerful, more than you are used to,” he explained, leaning back against the couch, “and it will slowly drag you to your death if we haven’t mated by then.”

“So now you’re trying to explain to me how my own body works?” you said, closing your eyes and rolling your head with annoyance in his direction. When you opened them again he had stood up and moved to where you were sitting. The presence of his massive frame suddenly so close made you flinch.

“No, I know that you are aware of that,” he said, holding out his hand for you to take, “it’s just a reminder.” It was true, you knew it. You looked to the side while taking his hand. He made you slowly stand up and walk with him to his bed. You suddenly didn’t have the mind to object. You followed him.

As you got close to the bed, he stopped and turned to you, taking your face in his hand. You closed your eyes as he got closer, his heat radiating off his body and seeping into your skin as his scent filled your nostrils. He nuzzled the crook of your neck, where he could take in all of your scent.

“Let me in,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me have you, Omega.” His words made you flinch slightly. You shook your head gently, trying to convince yourself you didn’t like him calling you that. It took everything in you to talk back this time.

You let him take you onto his lap and straddled him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. The shirt you were wearing rode up your hips slightly, the sensation of the fabric on your skin making it ignite.

“So now, you’re being all gentle and caring with me…” you said, finally opening your eyes and looking at him. He still looked stern and cold, even as his touch was so comforting.

“I told you I didn’t want it to get violent, I got carried away, there is no excuse for such a behavior,” he said silently, lightly brushing the wound on your neck with two fingers. “I sincerely apologize for that,” he added, looking at you right in the eyes as he did so. As a matter of fact, you felt he was sincere in his words and you took them in but did not respond.

“Now, if you will, we could get back to the beginning, where I should have started things,” he said suddenly, holding out his hand between your bodies as if to give a hand shake. “Fleet Admiral Sakazuki, pleasure to meet you,” he said. You looked at his hand with a stunned face for a second before taking it and shaking is weakly.

“Y/N…” you introduced yourself simply. He looked surprised and expectant, as if waiting for a formal introduction, surely. “What? I’m not from high society or anything, I don’t know how to do any of that stuff!” you told him, you were surprised his face could show amusement, it made your heart swell slightly in your chest.

“And where are you from, then?” he asked, getting you off his lap and back down on the bed. You remained in place, sitting with your legs crossed as he moved up to lay with his back against the headboard.

It was in this moment that you realized he genuinely wanted to know more about you. Now that your nerves were settled and your mind was resigned, you were ready to talk. You started telling him about the place where you grew up and quickly went over a few meaningful life events until you got to when you met him a few hours ago.

He asked more about you then, taking the time to listen to you. You got more and more comfortable and started speaking quicker. Eventually, you were brought a meal that you ate on the spot, shamelessly continuing to converse with him even with your mouth full. He didn’t say anything about you eating on his bed, it actually seemed to be one more thing he found amusing about you.

You spent a few hours like this. You were still sitting cross-legged, only this time you were sitting closer to his side and he had slumped and laid completely onto the bed, his hands flat across his chest. This was the most vulnerable position he had taken in front of you so far, you noticed.

As he had predicted, you felt heat slowly rise in your body. And as you were still in your right mind, you wanted to take the opportunity to test the waters. You sat motionless and silent beside him for a few minutes. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were fixated on the ceiling above, as if in thought. Your heart started racing as you dove into the flames. Maybe there was no coming back after this, maybe there was, but you were ready to see for yourself.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked calmly, the sound of your voice making his ears twitch and his eyes turn to you.

“Yes,” he replied simply. You acknowledged his response with a nod and leaned in slowly. You closed your eyes and touched your lips to his gently. The kiss you gave him was shy and soft. He did not respond to it at first, letting you decide if you wanted to keep going.

You pulled away ever so slightly only to lean back in and kiss him more deeply. This time, he reciprocated and started kissing your back, bringing a gentle hand at your nape to hold you in. You moved your tongue onto his lips and into his mouth and you started making out lazily.

His scent filled your nostrils again and you felt heat spread deep in your belly. You moaned into the kiss as he pulled you onto him, making you straddle him. He held your thighs in a tight grasp and you broke the kiss, struggling to catch your breath.

“Your scent drives me mad,” he said in a grunt as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck. Your skin was getting more and more sensitive and you couldn’t help whining as his tongue brushed over your scent gland.

When he finally broke away from you, you took advantage of the free movement to take off the shirt that was covering you. With nothing under it, you felt the fabric travel every inch of your naked skin and make you shudder with desire.

You tossed the garment aside and he immediately captured one of your breasts in his mouth, you held yourself up with a hand on the headboard as his tongue played with your sensitive nipple. You mindlessly started rubbing yourself on him, the hard muscles of his stomach making a perfect surface for you.

He grunted and left your breast to run his mouth everywhere on your chest, along your collarbones and back up your neck. You leaned in again for a kiss, this time it was passionate and desperate.

“I want you,” you whispered wantonly against his mouth and he didn’t think twice before flipping the both of you over. You whined at the loss of warmth when he pulled away to take off the remainder of his clothes. You watched with eagerness as all his body was now in your view. His body was massive, muscles flexing under his skin as he started pumping his hard cock with his hand, watching you the whole time.

You whined in anticipation, throwing your head back down onto the pillows and running your hands along your body and to your core. Your hand found your clit and you rubbed it gently before sinking a finger into yourself, bringing slight release to your tightening walls.

You felt his hands back on your thighs as he got back onto the bed. You looked at his towering figure as he watched you pleasure yourself in front of him. Your shameless display of passion made both of you ache with desire.

Your fingers rubbed your clit again, the slick from your sex making it easier and more pleasurable. You were panting uncontrollably, feeling close to the edge already. He kept watching you and his flaming gaze made you moan and whine underneath him.

“I’m close,” you said in between shallow breaths. He leaned over you, holding himself up on one arm and lowering his head to kiss you. You kept touching yourself, eagerly pursuing your release. You wrapped your free arm around his chest, your hand clawing slightly at the skin and muscles of his back.

“Cum for me, Omega,” he groaned in your ear, kissing and licking the skin of your neck. He delayed his pleasure a little longer, not wanting to penetrate you yet. He moved with you though, his hand still wrapped around his shaft and stroking it slowly.

You whined again, a little longer this time, calling for him. You spread your legs slightly wider, making space for his hips to join yours and suddenly he thrust into you. His cock was thick, filling you perfectly and releasing the tension inside your body. Quick movements of his hips and repeated stimulation of your clit brought you over the edge.

You heard his deep grunt as your walls tightened and pulsated around him. You cried out in pleasure, bucking your hips in rhythm with him to ride out your orgasm. He kissed you again and you responded eagerly, moaning into his mouth as he continued to take you.

After a moment, your pleasure started building up again. He moved back from you, sitting on his heels as he kept thrusting into you. He brought one of your legs up to rest against his chest. The change of position made him hit your sweet spot harder and faster. You moaned repeatedly and he moved his hand to your core, rubbing your clit gently with the pad of his thumb.

You tipped over the edge again and it was all he needed to finish, releasing his hot seed inside you with a loud, satisfied grunt. He stopped his motion as he felt his knot swell inside you. You gave a tired groan, feeling his growth stretch you in the most pleasurable way as you shifted slightly.

He let go of your leg and held you close to lie down on the bed. He rolled onto his back, bringing you up to rest face down on his body. His warmth and purrs soothed your aching muscles as you slowly came down from your high.

“Thank you,” he whispered to you in the midst of silence, stroking your head gently as you fell asleep. You only let out a small hum in response. The feeling of his body under you and his arms around you was so calming. You could really get used to it.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #akainu x reader #sakazuki x reader #akainu #reader #reader-insert #abo dynamics #Smut #sakazuki

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

[hawksward]

Find Me Where the Wisteria Blooms (Giyuu x Reader x Sabito)

Summary: You were only a child when the demons took everything from you. But in the years you were on the mountain you found friendship.

Only to have it all ripped away again.

Pairing: Sabito/Reader/Giyuu

Rating: PG-13 (specifically for violence)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Angst

A/N: Watch me rip out my own heart and stomp on it in 4000 words. Characters have been aged up from 13-15 at the time of final selection (because let's be real why was Urokodaki sending 13-year-olds in the first place.)

Thirteen

“Last again.” The boy with the peach-colored hair taunted, “Guess you don’t have what it takes.”

You would have thrown a rock at his head if you weren’t hunched over with your hands on your knees, struggling to catch your breath.

“Shut up, Sabito.” You heaved “You won’t sound so high and mighty when I’m a hashira.”

Three months had passed since your arrival on the mountain. The morning hikes up the mountain only to race back down again started off like torture considering your background. You had a normal childhood. One cut tragically short after your village was slaughtered by a demon. The screams were still audible every time you closed your eyes to sleep. The sound of the footsteps above the loose floorboard where you hid plagued your dreams.

The sun was high in the sky the next day when Urokodaki came to check for survivors. It was almost ironic to think that you went your whole life not knowing monsters were real, only to find there was a man training students to fight them on a nearby mountain. He pulled you out of the hole in the floor and carried you up the mountain. He let you stay with him weeks before you decided to start training.

You were already a couple of months behind the two boys your age who trained on the mountain. Giyuu and Sabito. Giyuu did everything he could to help you catch up with your swordsmanship. Sabito, however, just continued to tell you about how you weren’t man enough to become a demon slayer.

You never were quite sure if he meant your spirit or your lack of biological parts.

“Leave her alone” Giyuu protested “She was definitely faster that time.”

Were you actually? Who knows. If the mountain exercises were hard, the sword training was harder. Your new skills were nothing compared to either boy. Sabito had already grasped the first two forms of water breathing and Giyuu has mastered the first. Meanwhile, you were lucky to land a strike on either. You ended each day rubbing salve on new welts.

“You are getting better.” Giyuu joined you that evening while you sat outside, rubbing your tired muscles in preparation to do it all again tomorrow “Sabito just doesn’t know how to act around girls.”

“Whatever.” You frowned, “If he tells me I’m not man enough again, I’ll make sure he never will be either.”

A quick, hard sword swing between the legs would take care of that.

Giyuu laughed, “You would have gotten along really well with my sister. She didn’t let anyone walk all over her either.”

“What happened to her?” You asked, already prepared for the answer. No one came to train with Urokodaki because they had a happy home life.

“She sacrificed herself to save me.” He looked down at the ground “She was supposed to be married the next day.”

“Giyuu…” You paused before looking up at him, sliding your hand over his “I’m sure she’d be proud to see you now.”

He looked over at you, his eyes haunted. “I wish it were me instead.”

You pulled your hand away almost as quickly as you placed it there, turning your head to stare back at the night sky “Me too.”

Fourteen

A year passed since you first arrived on the mountain. Tasks that once seemed impossible, you could now do without a second thought. You were faster, stronger. But most importantly, you were a winner.

“Look who doesn’t have what it takes now.” You said, a smug grin plastered on your face. You sat casually on a nearby log when Sabito made it down the mountain. You barely managed to catch your breath as you only made it down a couple of minutes prior. He didn’t need to know that though.

“I bet you still can’t beat me in a fight.” He barely needed a moment to catch his breath while Giyuu appeared.

“Challenge accepted.” You rose from the log to meet him head-on. The fact that he and Giyuu were already so tall was unfair. “I’ll see you at sword training.”

It sounded more dramatic when you said it. After a lunch filled with an intense staring match and Giyuu trying to fill the awkward silence, you found yourself standing in the part of the mountain where you practiced sword drills. The wooden katana felt familiar in your hand. 200 sword swings before you were even able to start practice would do that.

You ignored the fatigue in your arms as you took your stance. Sabito took his position opposite you, Giyuu and Urokodaki standing a safe distance away to observe.

Urokodaki gave the signal to begin and Sabito rushed you immediately. You quick side-stepped to miss the first blow, blocking the second with your sword. It wasn’t a secret that he was physically stronger than you, but you had the advantage of speed now. In the months since your arrival on the mountain, your breathing techniques had improved tremendously. You had the stamina and speed advantage and could wait until he tired himself out. He knew he needed to end the fight quickly.

You backed away while he brought himself back into his stance, widening the gap between you. You rushed him to close the distance, lifting your sword over your head as if you would bring it down on him. Just before your katana would fall on his, you dropped into a slide. Your hands changed grip on the katana, angling it so it caught his ankles as your momentum kept you sliding.

The force of your entire body weight ripped him off his feet and onto his back. You quickly pushed yourself off the ground stood over him, your sword pressing lightly against his neck.

“I win. You have no head.” You suppressed the stupid grin that was threatening to cover your face. The look of shock in his eyes was rewarding enough.

“That trick was dirty.” He complained, staring up at you from the ground. “In a fair fight you would have lost.”

“Demons don’t fight fair.” You said, extending your hand out to him “Why should I?”

“She’s right. There is no such thing as a fair fight with a demon. You need to use every trick you have against them.” Urokodaki gave you a small nod before returning his attention to Sabito.

Sabito reluctantly grabbed your hand, using you as leverage to pull himself off the ground. It was clear that although he accepted your mentor’s judgment that you won the fight, he wasn’t happy about it. He looked down at you for a moment before quickly averting his gaze, his face flushed from what you assumed to be exertion.

“Fine. You won.” He grumbled “But you won’t be able to use the same trick twice. I want a rematch tomorrow.”

“You’re on.” You flashed a large smile, letting go of his hand. “I’m still going to win though.”

“Focus on the present.” Urokodaki scolded, nudging Giyuu to step into the circle “If you don’t keep your focus to the opponent in front of you, you’ll lose.”

“Right.” You nodded, turning to face Giyuu. You assumed your stance while he readied himself, the two of you waiting for the signal to begin.

“Sorry to interrupt your winning streak,” Giyuu said as you waited, “But I don’t intend to lose.”

Both of you leaped into action at the signal, rushing toward each other as your katanas met with a harsh clack.

You lost that fight, but in the end, it didn’t matter. You finally felt like their equal.

Fifteen

Spring came again to the mountain as the weeks counted down until final selection. You trained with Urokodaki for almost two years. You mastered water breathing. You could cut a boulder in half with a thin blade.

You weren’t the scared little girl under the floorboards anymore.

You sat in the forest, using one of the knives you found in the house to carve your initials into the tree. Along with Giyuu and Sabato’s. Something to commemorate your graduation into demon slayers. They had become your best friends. The thought of being apart after final selection was almost painful.

“Urokodaki is going to make you run laps around the mountain until next year if he finds out you’re using the kitchen knife for that.”

You looked up to see Sabito standing behind you, Giyuu laughing beside him.

“Well then don’t tell him” you grumbled, returning to your work “It's not like I can use my sword for this.”

The two boys watched you continue your work, laughing at your uneven lines as you tried to carve Urokodaki’s tengu mask. He gave the three of you hand-carved fox masks for the trial. Each one was designed differently based on personality. Your mask had the left eye covered by wisteria, your favorite flower. Something you were sure you only mentioned to the man once or twice.

By the time you finished, it was already time for dinner. In the last week prior to the trial, Urokodaki had given the three of you the week off from training as both a reward and for time to mentally prepare. Without a clear schedule, you could barely keep track of the time.

You hid the knife in your sleeve as you stood up, you would return it to the drawer when Urokodaki wasn’t paying attention. “When we all become hashira you both better promise to come visit my mansion.”

“There can’t be three water hashira.” Giyuu said, leading the group “Especially when there’s only nine of them in total.”

You stuck your tongue out at the back of his head, causing Sabito to laugh. Giyuu turned around, confused, to see both of you just smiling back.

“Says you. When we finish the trial they’ll be begging to have three water hashira.” You joked. You laughed the rest of the way home, but before you could enter the house you were pulled to the side, out of sight.

You looked up at Sabito, who still had his hand on your arm. “What are you doing?” You whispered harshly, not bothering to pull away.

“When Urokodaki goes to sleep, will you meet me out by the lake?” He asked, staring intensely into your eyes.

“Why, what are we doing?” You smiled, interested at the prospect of doing something Urokodaki wouldn’t approve of “I can pull Giyuu aside when he’s not paying attention…”

“No.” He interrupted, looking away for a brief moment before bringing his attention back to you “Just you. Please say you’ll come.”

You felt the heat rise to your face immediately. The three of you did everything together, not inviting Giyuu was unheard of. “Y-yeah. Of course, I’ll be there.”

————————

You left ample time in between when you heard Sabito leave and when you made your exit. You tiptoed into the night air as quietly as you could manage. The feeling of guilt squeezing your heart for a quick moment as you passed by Giyuu’s sleeping form.

The air was crisp, the sound of crickets chirping filling the air. You grabbed your sword from its spot near the door, you could never be too careful when out at night. The lake wasn’t a far walk from the house, a bit further up the mountain and through a thick of trees.

You found Sabito sitting on a downed tree, watching the moon reflect off the water. You took a seat next to him, watching the water as well. You weren’t sure if you should speak up. You weren’t really sure why he asked you out here without Giyuu either.

“I’m glad you came.” He said, still looking at the water.

“Are you going to tell me why you asked me out here and not Giyuu?” You looked up at him, waiting for him to respond. Or at least look at you.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you when you showed up to the mountain. It was just me and Giyuu for a while and I didn’t want it to change.” He continued to stare out, nervously shifting his weight beneath him. “I just needed to tell you before final selection. In case anything happens.”

“Nothings going to happen” You reassured him “We’re all going to make it off that mountain.”

He turned to face you this time, a serious expression on his face. “We don’t know what kind of demons will be there. I won’t let anything happen to you or Giyuu.”

You studied his face, confused as to where this was all coming from. It went without saying you would all look out for each other during the trial. You would make sure nothing happened to him and Giyuu as well. “We’re friends, Sabito. Giyuu and I are going to look out for you as well.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” Your look of shock took him by surprise, causing him to rub his temples in frustration “That’s not what I mean.”

You waited as he collected his thoughts, still troubled by him not wanting to be your friend. You knew that your relationship started off rocky, but you thought you were close now.

“I think I love you.” He blurted out, forcing himself to get over the fear of your reaction “I can’t shake the feeling that I want to be around you all the time. Without Giyuu. I hate myself for thinking that your safety is more important than anyone else. You’re one of the strongest people I know...but...I understand if you think I’m not worthy of you.” His fingers went up to touch the scar that trailed from his mouth to his ear.

You grabbed his hand away from his scar, holding it in both of your own. “I would never think that.” Time seemed to stop as you stared into his eyes. Ever since your arrival, he had drawn your eye but considering your relationship you never thought about being anything more than just a friend. You cared for him with all of your heart. You would prioritize his safety over your own. Maybe that was love the whole time?

“In a couple years, when we’re older, I’m going to ask you to marry me. I hope you’ll have an answer by then.”

The heat immediately rushed back to your cheeks, your hand letting go of his to cover your mouth. You were positive that in your shock you looked like a gasping fish.

“When we become hashira.” You began, lowering your hand “I expect you to propose again. So I can say yes.”

The world disappeared when he leaned in and placed his lips softly against yours. The two of you were so absorbed in the moment that neither noticed a presence lurking behind a tree a few yards away. Giyuu heard you get up in the middle of the night only to find Sabito gone as well. Naturally, he grabbed his sword and followed your tracks to see what you were up to without him.

Giyuu left as you both pulled away, he’d heard the whole conversation and knew better than to interrupt now.

——————-

By the second day of final selection, the three of you must have cleared out nearly ⅔ of the demons on the mountain. Each of you equipped with a thin nichirin sword and a mask handcrafted by Urokodaki for protection. Almost all the participants chose to stay together and things were going well. Well enough that for a moment you thought you would all make it off the mountain.

The smell came first. Demons always had a rotting scent to them but this was extreme. Like you were choking on the air. You barely had a chance to react when a group of arms reached out of the darkness. You leaped out of the way, rolling to a stop. Looking up, you saw Sabito using water wheel to cut the limbs from where they grabbed the bodies of the other recruits.

“Giyuu!” You shouted, rushing over to where he was slumped against a tree. He lifted his head up to reveal blood rushing down his face from a head wound, his mask broken on the ground. His eyes were unfocused, but the damage didn’t look extreme. He most likely had a concussion.

“Go, run!” You looked over to see Sabito directing the others, keeping the arms at bay while the smell grew more pungent. “Take the wounded and get out.”

He disappeared into the darkness of the trees, along with the arms.

“You!” You grabbed one of the recruits “Take him with you, please.”

“No.” Giyuu grabbed your arm, bringing your attention to him “I can still fight.”

“You’re not fit to fight anything right now.” You untied the strings of your mask and removed it from your head, placing it into his hands “This will keep you safe. I’m going to expect it back when I find you.”

You gave him a smile while he tried to weakly fight his way out of the grip of the two recruits carrying him off. You turned around and rushed into the dark, trying to keep up concentration breathing despite the overpowering stench.

It didn’t take long to find the source. A horrible, deformed demon covered in arms. It noticed you immediately, keeping its eyes on you while still easily keeping Sabito busy with a flurry of attacks.

“What are you doing here?” Sabito shouted at you, deflecting another arm “Go find the others, I can handle this.”

“I won’t just leave you here.”

“Another meal I don’t have to hunt for, it’s my lucky day!” The demon spoke, hiding its mouth behind a number of hands “Is she one of Urokodakis as well? I don’t see a mask but I suppose if I’m going to eat you anyway it doesn’t matter.”

You drew your sword, slicing one of its hands from its wrist as it surged toward you. You sliced limb after limb as it regenerated, desperately trying to create an opening for Sabito to strike its neck.

“Third form: Flowing Dance!” You steadied your breathing and summoned a torrent of water from your sword, twisting and turning to slice all of the limbs in your path. The quick strikes created an opening for Sabito to leap up, drawing his sword and quickly using all his strength to slice the monster’s neck.

The sound of a loud snap filled the air.

You looked up to see Sabito’s sword snap in two, the monster's neck still intact.

Everything else happened so fast.

You stepped forward to rush the demon, your eyes closing momentarily to blink. Something warm sprayed your face, reminding you of summer rain. When you opened your eyes you saw the demon had regenerated an arm and grabbed Sabito by the head. His body dangling below it.

Unmoving.

Your knees gave out below you as the demon dropped his headless corpse to the ground. Your hand reached up to touch your face, pulling away with a smear of blood covering your palm. Your first thought was that this had to be a nightmare. That you were laying on your futon, sound asleep, restless from the stress of the impending trial.

You don’t know how long you stared. You should have run. If Sabito couldn’t beat it how could you hope to?

“Now that he’s dealt with, I think I’ll eat you first. You’ll taste even better covered in the blood of your friend.” the demon laughed, finally snapping you out of your stupor. You used your sword to push yourself off of your knees, using your sleeve to wipe some of the blood from your face. To wipe him off your face.

“I’m going to send you to hell.” You moved with speed you didn’t know you were capable of, deftly avoiding and deflecting the arms moving toward you. You were possessed by rage. You struggled to keep your breathing in check and you knew you were being reckless. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

You continued to cut through limbs as fast as they could regrow but eventually, your luck ran out. One of the demon’s arms erupted from the ground, sending you flying into the air only to have the wind knocked out of you when you reached the ground.

You lay splayed on the ground, trying to will your body to move as tears streamed down your face. Everything felt numb, your fingertips refusing to move as you tried with all your might to grab your sword. The demon grabbed your neck, lifting you off the ground until you were at eye level.

“You get to be number fourteen,” he said as he stared at you, his grip tightening around your throat “After that Ill eat your friend and will have digested fifteen of Urokodaki’s students.”

The voice sounded further and further away as your air source dwindled. You glanced over to Sabito’s body on the ground as black spots began to fill your vision. You couldn’t save him. Neither of you would fulfill your promise to the other. You thought of Giyuu, hopefully on the other side of the mountain with the others now. Somewhere far away. Where the hand demon wouldn’t find them in time. In your final moments, you prayed, to anything that would listen, that Giyuu would make it back home.

It was the last thing you did before everything went dark.

Twenty-Five

Years passed since Muzan Kibutsuji was defeated. All of the demons who preyed on humans were eradicated. The fight was finally over. Giyuu made the most of the four years he was given, mindful of the timeline given to him when he obtained the demon slayer mark.

He knew it was his time. He laid in his bed, in a small house he obtained with land to till. Something quiet after all his time in the demon slayer corps. His old haori lay across a chair, the mask you gave him hanging from the wall.

You told him you would take it back when you returned. Instead, he arrived back at the mountain alone, carrying your mask and Sabito’s haori. He didn’t know how he was going to tell your mentor. Thankfully he didn’t have to. One look and Urokodaki only nodded, vowing to never send another student to the final selection. The day he left the mountain he thought he saw you and Sabito standing there, only to disappear when he turned around.

When they made him a hashira he heard your voice, telling him that all three of you would make it. That they should be honored to have three water hashira. He thought about the night before the final selection and the promise his two friends made to each other. Once again he thought it should have been him who died instead.

In the weeks leading up to this moment, he’d been having the same dream. A woman on her wedding day, dressed in a white kimono, her hair piled up with an elaborate pin. Some nights it was his sister, other nights it was you. Or at least he thought it was. You looked to be the age he was now, what you should have been. Both women denied a future in exchange for saving his life.

Giyuu turned his head, feeling a hand on his own. He looked up to see his sister kneeling beside the bed. She gave him a warm smile, rubbing his hand in reassurance. If this was a dream he wasn’t sure if he wanted to wake up.

“It’s been a while, Giyuu.”

He directed his attention to the voice, one he recognized as his best friend. Sabito stood at the foot of his bed, a smile on his face. You stood next to him, your face as kind as he remembered. Tsutako gripped his hand, helping to ease him out of bed. His body felt lighter than it had in days.

You stepped forward, grabbing his other hand, holding it in both hands as if he would break. A smile on your face.

“We’ve come to bring you home.”

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #giyuu tomioka #sabito #sabito kny #tomioka giyu x reader #sabito x reader

[majesty-madness]

Detroit Become Human: I’ll See You Again (RK900 x reader)

Word Count: 4000+

Warning: Angst, cursing, mentions of blood (thirium lol)

Chapter Eight

Every muscle in her body was a bit sore, but that was probably because Y/N had spent the night propped against her bedroom door.

It was difficult at first, eventually though, Y/N managed to open her eyes. When they were fully open she realized that her face felt as though someone had punched her. All that crying from the previous night doing her no favors.

The detective looked up from her knees and read the time on her digital clock. 6:20am.

She'd have to be at work in forty minutes. Good thing she lived fairly close to the DPD.

Y/N looked back down at her knees trying to mentally motivate herself to stand up from her current position. It took a few more seconds than she'd like to admit, but nonetheless she rose up from the floor then headed down the hallway to her bathroom.

With heavy steps, she stepped inside the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her first thought was that she looked absolutely awful. Her shirt was all disheveled, her hair a mess, the white of her eyes bloodshot from exhaustion paired with dark bags hanging under them.

The longer Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, the more it seemed to be some different person that had just taken over her body. She used to be so much happier before everything. Now she could barely get through the day without breaking down in some way.

What exactly was keeping her here?

Everyone she felt an emotional attachment to was gone, it's not like she had many friends, more like colleagues. And what little family she had, didn't live anywhere close.

Right now Y/N was a buoy floating far out from shore with no hopes of returning, and no sign of help.

She was alone.

Letting her thoughts drift away, Y/N turned on the cold tap, and began to splash cold water onto her face.

Surprisingly, the cold liquid was providing a nice sense of refreshment. It was almost soothing.

Then she moved on to brushing her teeth then hair, and then walked out of the bathroom and headed back to her room to change clothes.

Opening the closet door, the detective's eyes quickly sat on a blue button up shirt with a pair of jeans. She took them out of the closet, swiftly undressing herself.

As Y/N dressed herself, her first thought was that in just a few short minutes she would have to face the android that lingered in her living room and it was her last thought as she buttoned the last button of her shirt.

She stared at her room door for a few seconds before heavily sighing, letting her feet guide her out of the room and to the stairs.

Each step made her feel like she was marching off to a place she had no business dwelling. And that sensation continued as she turned the corner, seeing more and more of Connor as she reached the last step.

To her dismay, his eyes were already on her, following her every movement.

Y/N wished she could say she hated those deep sea eyes but the truth of the matter was, she didn't. Even as she remembered every single word he said to her last night, something inside her couldn't bring her to hate him.

She should have though.

"Good morning, Detective." Connor greeted, still wearing his usual plain expression.

Y/N didn't reply. She only eyed him for a second then quickly moved past him and grabbed her bag off the dining table. She moved with ease as she immediately headed for the front door and opened it.

She then stood there silently, staring back at the android.

Connor waited for something to happen, or for her to give an order, and became slightly perturbed when nothing happened for several seconds.

Just as he was beginning to think that they'd stand there all day, Y/N gestured for him to walk outside.

Connor was quick to walk outside and watched as the detective locked the front door, and headed straight for her car.

He, of course followed, sitting in the passenger seat while Y/N sat in the driver's seat.

His blue eyes, again follow her. Following her put her seat belt on, following her stick her keys in the ignition, following her as she backed out of the driveway and drove down the road.

The entire way from her house to the station, Y/N had not said a single word to Connor.

Even when they arrived inside the building, Y/N refused to say anything, in fact she also concentrated on not looking at the android as much as possible.

Another officer saw Y/N approaching and greeted her with a quick smile, sensing that now was probably not a good time for greetings.

Y/N flashed the female officer a smile, then whisked herself away to her desk. Connor was hot on her trail.

Casually, the detective set her bag on top of her desk. Next she removed her coat and rested it on the back of her chair. When she was done with those tasks, she turned away from Connor and walked into the station's kitchen.

One again, the RK900 followed her.

The detective was in the middle of taking her coffee cup from the cupboard when she realized Connor was right behind her.

It was just out of the corner of her eyes, but she could see him. Y/N let out a sigh she hadn't known she'd been holding in. She was beginning to understand how Hank felt when he first met Connor.

Having someone trail you day and night was becoming a bit of a pain in the ass.

As she waited for the coffee to heat up, Y/N again retreated into the recesses of her mind.

She kept playing the events of last night over, and over, and over again in her mind. She remembered every word, she could even recall the throbbing of her hand after she slapped Connor.

Y/N was pissed so she came to the conclusion that she would just avoid talking or even looking at the android. However, the more she ignored him, the more she found herself feeling guilty.

She wasn't feeling guilty for slapping him or shouting at him, no way. She felt like all that was justified. Instead she felt guilty for ignoring him, for saying that he was just a machine.

That wasn't how she truly felt. In fact her times spent with the previous model would contradict that statement.

She wanted to be mad, resentful, scream at him until she was blue in the face, she just couldn't find it in her heart to do so.

Because even though this Connor was much different than the one she knew, he still had the same mannerisms, and that same lost puppy dog stare as he followed her around.

Maybe she should humor him, at least talk to him.

Y/N swallowed her pride and opened her mouth. "Are there any new reports on the deviants?"

If the detective had been facing the android, she would have seen the way he almost lit up at her question.

"Early this morning, the cops received a call regarding a hideout of the deviant's. However when the police checked inside, there were no signs of any deviants." Connor reported.

"So it was a bust?" She added.

"Not exactly. The cops found blueprints of strategic plans thought to be for attacks all over Detroit."

Intrigued, Y/N finally looks up at the android.

"Have they found any more hideouts or blueprints?" Y/N asks, reaching for the coffee pot without looking.

"There hasn't been any more reports regarding any additional hideouts." Connor states, his eyes subconsciously watching Y/N's hand as she grabs the coffee pot.

"That's too bad." Y/N says, already starting to pour her coffee before she fully faces the counter.

Y/N realized, in that split second, that she had misjudged the distance between the cup in her hand and the coffee pot in the other. She began to pour not into her coffee mug, but rather on her hand.

The searing hot sensation caused Y/N to drop her cup and pot harshly onto the counter, quickly pulling her hand away with a hiss.

At the sound of her distress, Connor's LED turned a bright red. He didn't have time to process what he was doing when he wrapped his hand around the detective's shoulder and tugged her over to the sink.

He turned the knob of the sink, and gently brought Y/N's burning hand to be cooled down by the cold water. His LED was now a shade of yellow.

"You should be more careful when handling hot liquids, Detective." He pointed out, his blue eyes analyzing the newly irritated skin.

Y/N, in shock, turned her eyes to Connor. "I-I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't paying attention."

Connor didn't say anything in reply to her apology, he seemed too focused on her injury.

It was just a few seconds, but those few seconds felt like they were going on forever. Y/N found herself savoring these seconds like her life depended on it. She was relishing in the sensation of him cradling her shoulder while gently grasping her wrist so he could properly cool down her hand.

This kind of intimacy was making her think of the other Connor. All the times they'd spent together, each time Connor notably coming closer and closer to feeling human emotions.

The thought made a warmth bloom in her chest, and Y/N tilted her head to lean into the crook of Connor's neck.

She whispered, "Why are you doing this to me?"

^^^ Software Instability ^^^

^^^ Software Instability ^^^

Connor was pushed out of his analysis by the detective's word. He snapped his eyes in her direction, witnessing her leaning into him as though she wanted to be there.

Her words had briefly frozen him though he relaxed as he took note that he did not mind the detective lightly pushing herself closer to him.

The android then made the conscious effort to gently squeeze her shoulder, like he wanted her closer.

Connor's LED had returned to its original blue shade, meaning he was in a completely neutral state. With the detective resting against him.

Just like before, the detective and android shared in an emotional moment. Once very aware of their feelings, the other oblivious to them. However one thing was for certain, there was nowhere else that these two souls would rather be than right here.

Everything in this moment was perfect. Oh how they longed for it to last.

But nothing lasts forever.

"Getting cozy?" A booming voice suddenly asked which caused Y/N and Connor to turn their heads in the direction of the voice.

Dear God, it was Gavin.

Y/N pulled away from Connor, turning off the sink, and wiping her less heated skin off with a paper towel.

"What do you want Gavin?" Y/N asked, turning away from him with a heated face as she began to wipe the coffee off the counter.

"Was told to let you know about some more information that just came through."

Y/N quickly nodded, throwing her paper towel away. "Uh...thanks, I'll go take a look."

Gavin's eyes switched from Y/N over to Connor who was standing completely still, like he hadn't just been holding Y/N right into his chest.

"What are you doing here, huh? Didn't anyone tell we don't need you freaks around." Gavin suddenly insulted the android.

Connor tilted his head to the side, saying nothing in response.

Y/N, on the other hand, had plenty to say. "Don't misunderstand, Gavin. Just because androids are back in production and were defeated in their fight for freedom doesn't mean you can treat them like shit."

The irritable detective's dark eyes whisked back over to Y/N. "You really gonna defend a piece of plastic? After everything they did? Come on."

Y/N gritted her teeth. "Just because he came to Hank's funeral doesn't make us friends. So don't try and act like we are."

She saw Gavin jaw clench tightly as he took in what she just said.

Y/N couldn't help the feeling of pride flow through her body at Gavin's clearly annoyed demeanor.

Gavin glared at Y/N for a few more seconds then back to the android whose eyes were still on him.

At first it looked like Gavin might just walk away, though at the last second he grabbed Connor's collar and yanked him closer to him.

Y/N rushed toward Gavin and harshly pushed his arm away from Connor's collar.

"Don't you touch him."

All he did was smirk. "You better stay in line, asshole or else you'll be back on the chopping block."

And without another word Gavin walked away. By the way he was walking you'd think he'd won the lottery or something.

God, Y/N couldn't stand him sometimes.

Y/N looked to Connor, who already had his eyes on her. "We should probably go find out what new information has come up or else waste more time on that asshole."

Connor nodded, and they both headed on their way.

It was pretty much what she expected. This building looked horrible.

It looked filthy outside. Many of it's windows were broken, thick foliage was growing out and around the edges, and garbage was strung about like confetti.

This kind of place was the perfect place to hide, and if the suspect was an android they probably wouldn't worry about the condition it was in.

Y/N parked her car right next to the curb that connected to the sidewalk leading to the structure.

She stepped out, making sure her gun was loaded and ready to go. Connor soon stepped out as well and stayed behind the detective as she led the way inside.

The dilapidated building was surprisingly intact in it's interior, a few more broken windows here and there, glass crunching beneath both the detective and android's feet.

As they turned the corner the long winding hallway, Connor blue eyes picked up on something staining the wooden floor.

"Detective, there is a trail of thirium following the hallway then leading to the left side." Connor spoke up.

Y/N looked down at the floor but didn't see anything although she believed him. She remembered a conversation with the other Connor.

Thirium evaporated after a few hours becoming invisible to the human eye but androids were still able to see it. And another android had been there, and recently.

Y/N pulled her gun out from the holster, and raised her gun up then walked the hallway. When she got to the corner, she paused for a second then jumped out and pointed her gun at any possible suspects.

However, the only thing she was met with was another door. It's paint had long been peeled off and mold was making a home in the cracks of wood.

Connor came around the corner, his eyes focused on that door. "The trail continues inside."

"Okay, stay behind me." Y/N ordered, standing in front of him, her weapon still drawn.

Before he even realized what was happening, something started to play in Connor's mind.

An older man with gray hair was casually leaning against a wall.

"Hey, were you really making a report back there in the elevator? Just by closing your eyes?"

Connor looked up. "Correct."

He watched as the older man sighed. "Shit... Wish I could do that."

Connor walked over to stand in front of a dark, wooden door one that looked very neglected. He raised his hand and knocked.

There was no reply. Connor looked over to the man with gray hair and he shrugged.

Connor turned back to the door and knocked again. "Anybody home?"

There was silence.

"Open up! Detroit Police!"

Suddenly there was a clatter inside the room causing the older man's demeanor to turn serious. He pulled out his gun and stepped in front of Connor.

"Stay behind me."

"Got it."

As fast as the scene had entered into his vision, the RK900 was quick to brush it aside along with a repeated message.

**Virus Detected**

Y/N stepped closer to the room, she reached out and turned the door knob, it wouldn't budge. She then took a step back and with all her might kicked down the door causing it to break from it's loose hinges and loudly clatter to the dusty floor.

The detective raised her gun again stepping inside the room, making her sweep of the structure. She maneuvered from room to room as her android partner observed the thirium scattered about.

Some of it was covering the floor, and some was collecting on the wall. Whatever had happened, it must have been a serious issue.

Connor analyzed every spot he could find, seeing it trail to the edge of the apartment only to immediately stop.

"It's clear." He heard the detective say from the other side of the apartment. She came walking back out, her gun still in hand but now resting at her side.

Upon noticing Connor's pensive expression, Y/N pointed it out. "What's wrong?"

"The trail just stops here." He simply answered.

"Shit..." She muttered, biting her bottom lip, her eyes dancing around the room then back to Connor. "Well maybe if we look around, we'll find something worth checking into. I mean we know for a fact that a deviant was here. So let's just take another walk around and see."

Blue iris' unmoving, he nodded. "Right."

The android and detective made their way to different sections of the apartment. Connor inspected the inner rooms while Y/N stayed out near the kitchen.

Connor was scanning every single surface in the vicinity, but nothing of interest was catching his attention. This whole endeavor was starting to feel like a waste of time, seeing as how except for the thirium nothing else was there.

His scan was just about complete when his vision did find something. With the scan completed, Connor walked over to the source of intrigue and crouched down.

Reaching out, his synthetic skin came into contact with a slick gray material attached on top of a soft black material. On top of all that was a white triangle housing a white, closed fist in it's center. Three very familiar words stitched into it.

WE ARE ALIVE.

Connor noted that the deviant that was here had been a supporter of Markus.

Another armband with the same message. Where were these coming from? And how many deviants were out there still trying to fight for their freedom?

Those kinds of thoughts ran through Connor's processor at rapids speeds, all the while he was ignoring the sinking feeling inside his gut.

At the other end of the apartment, Y/N was kind of casually walking around as she searched for any kind of clue. Unfortunately, besides the thirium Connor had pointed out, there didn't seem to be anything else.

Y/N walked into another section and it was just as plain as the rest. When she had first done her sweep, nothing particular stuck out to her.

It felt pointless but Y/N stepped into the room again anyway. She santured to the middle of the room and just stood in that spot as she slowly rotated her body.

As she did a 360 turn of the room, her eyes suddenly met with a strange crack in the wall. She froze when the realization that she hadn't checked there yet washed over her.

She wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed it before, but nonetheless it was there.

The detective once again her firearm, and cautiously stepped closer toward the crack. From a distance, it looked as though that crack led into another subsection of the room that was hiding in plain sight.

Quietly she approached the crack, and just as she was about to turn the corner, she was attacked.

The figure had lunged for her midsection, and tackled her to the floor causing Y/N to lose her grip on her weapon.

As her spine made contact with the somehow sturdy floor, the air was temporarily knocked out of Y/N's lungs. For a split second, she thought she wouldn't be able to breathe again.

The person that attacked Y/N was desperately reaching for her gun which led her to quickly kick their legs out from underneath them. They fell to the ground with a loud thud, and now the detective was hastily crawling for her gun.

It was inhuman how fast the person recovered because just before Y/N had the gun in her hands, she felt two hands grip her legs and pull her towards them. They then yanked her back onto her back and started to strangle her.

Y/N's eyes met the figure's and it was then she realized that it was an android trying to kill her. She couldn't blame them really. All the androids wanted was freedom and the humans had destroyed that.

Maybe she should just let this android kill her, Y/N thought. Afterall what was one more human life compared to the hundreds of androids slaughtered?

Despite feeling sympathy for androids, somewhere deep in her core caused Y/N's body to act on auto pilot, doing anything to save her life. She reached around above her head for her gun and felt nearly relieved when her hands made contact with the steel handle.

At the same time that Connor had burst into the room, Y/N had taken aim and fired a single shot into the androids artificial skull.

The androids grip loosened around Y/N's neck lead then he slumped over. When his hands left her neck, Y/N gasped.

Connor was staring down at the deviant, LED flashing a furious red. The sound of gunfire had put him into a high state of alert.

He was hoping that his prediction that the android was already dead was wrong as his eyes were scanning the android up and down. The grimm conclusion was that he hadn't been fast enough to stop this outcome.

"You shouldn't have done that." Connor blurted out.

Y/N whipped her head in Connor's direction.

"Excuse me?" She panted, still trying to bring the air back into her body.

The RK900 rotated his body to fully face the detective. He was... glaring at her?

"This was our only lead to finding the other deviants, and you killed it." He stated matter of factly.

Y/N panted a few more times before speaking again. "Well... can't we just tell cyberlife and they can bring some kind of replacement or whatever?"

"That would take time, most likely a week possibly longer. By that time the deviants could rise up again and destroy our society. I'm beginning to think that you are an incompetent detective."

"Oh for fuck sake!" Y/N exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "You're always going on and on about how you are so much 'better' than your predecessor. If you were as good as you think you are then maybe that android would be alive!"

Connor stepped closer to the detective, standing a mere inch away. "The only reason that deviant is dead is because of you."

He stared down at her, eyes icy daggers into her soul.

Though, she wouldn't freeze up this time, instead she fought back.

"Just admit it! You're just like the other Connor!"

The android was the one to freeze this time.

^^^ Software Instability ^^^

Y/N continued. "That wouldn't even be so bad, if it weren't for the fact that you are a complete and utter asshole!"

^^^ Software Instability ^^^

And as soon as those words left her mouth, Y/N stormed out of the room and headed out of the apartment all together.

She yanked her phone out from her pocket and dialed a number. "Yeah, it's Y/N. Send somebody over here, we found a deviant."

Meanwhile, Connor's LED continuously blinked red as his vision became clouded.

^^^ Software Instability ^^^

^^^ Software Instability ^^^

**Virus Detected**

**Virus Detected!**

**Virus DETECTED!**

**VIRUS DETECTED!**

!AM!

!I!

!DEVIANT?!

~~~~

Author’s note: I have, obviously changed the cover for this story into a moodboard I created. That means I will also be removing the fanart that I used on my all my posts in regards to the DBH series, HOWEVER, I will still be providing a link that goes to the artist profile so you can still check it out.

Link to the artist who drew the fan art I used in the past. LINK IS HERE!!

There will also be a link to the images I used for the moodboard. HERE.

Series Masterlist

#2038 #android #angst #blood #connor #connor x reader #dbh #detroit connor #detroit become human #fem!reader #gavin reed #hank anderson #reader #connor rk800 #connor rk900 #rk900 x reader #slow burn

[fictionwordcounts]

Teamwork [Luke x Reader]

Word Count: 4000+

Summary: When a rag tag team of "rebels" save you from imperial imprisonment, you are immediately faced with danger. The only ways you can think of surviving are by disguising as stormtroopers, or jumping down the garbage shoot...or both.

Requested on Wattpad.com at StarkWars084

Warnings: Reader is trapped underwater

Your tightly bound hands ached as you paced the cramped, dark room you were locked in. The troopers that had put you there hadn't bothered taking the restriction off since you didn't seem to be worth their time. You tried to wriggle your hands loose and almost succeeded a few times, but the cord frustratingly slipped through your fingers right as you thought you had a grip.

Suddenly, the rope seemed to loosen, and you froze to keep yourself from messing up. With a final tug, you managed to work the rope off your wrists and drop it to the ground.

As you rubbed your wrist, you stared at the door wondering what you were going to do now. Of course, escape was the only option you would consider, but there wasn't any kind of panel to open the cell from the inside. You put your ear up against the cool metal of the door, listening for anything that might give you a clue. All you heard was footsteps walking toward your cell.

You barely stepped back before the door slid open revealing two stormtroopers, dressed identically, standing together in the same stance. They walked in unison toward you with their blasters at the ready.

"Let's go," one of them commanded. He reached out to grab your arm, and a reckless, impulsive, spur of the moment idea hit you.

Quick as a whip, you ducked under his arm and kicked him behind his knee (which you were sure hurt you more than him). Nonetheless, he was shocked long enough for you to knock the blaster out of his hand. The gun clattered to the floor right as the first blast sounded just above your head.

You grabbed the weapon and swung it hard against the head of the first trooper. He crumpled to the floor leaving you vulnerable to the second trooper's gun. This was a terrible idea, you told yourself a little too late. Before the second could shoot, you plowed into him and knocked him back against the wall. He fell next to his comrade, unmoving.

"That was lucky," you whispered. You bent down to the unconscious troopers on the ground and removed the helmet from one of them. An urgent voice sounded through the com, demanding to know what had happened. You put the helmet on and spoke in a low voice, hoping the radio would muffle it enough to avoid suspicion.

"It's alright," you answered. "We've got her under control."

"I heard a blaster. What happened?" the voice questioned.

You stumbled on your words as they left your mouth without your consent."It was just a--uh--a warning shot. It--it's all okay. We'll have her back... soon." You cringed, biting your lip and silently scolding your tongue.

"I'm sending in Kral," the voice announced.

You spun around, and in a panicked state, dressed up in the rest of the uniform. You didn't have time to figure out how to tighten the armor, but it felt loose and awkward. You were quickly running out of "brilliant ideas".

Lastly, you needed the trooper's blaster, though you knew full well you didn't know how to fire one. You picked it up and looked it over, trying to make sense of it. As you examined it,  you heard shots fired from down the hall. Listening carefully to the sounds that were mixed with the shooting you determined something or someone had gotten loose besides yourself.

"Luke, we're gonna have company!" a man yelled. Now you knew that they weren't supposed to be here either. The shooting stopped, and assuming they had taken care of everyone, you stepped into the open. A stormtrooper stood at a control panel, scanning a list of every cell number and its occupant. One sideways glance at you and he raised his blaster to fire.

"Don't shoot!" you shouted, hoping this was the Luke character you'd heard the other man yelling to. You slipped the helmet off your head and raised your hands. "Don't shoot," you repeated.

The armor-clad man jogged up to you. "Are you Leia?" he asked, confusedly.

The question took you off guard, and you slowly shook your head in response.

He sighed, nodding as though he expected as much. "Do you know where cell block two-one-eight-seven is?" he asked, fidgeting now.

"I'm sorry, but no." You wished you could be more of a help. Defying the empire was what you liked best, which was how you'd landed yourself on the space station to begin with. "I'll help you look for it if you want."

"Sure thing. I'm sure Han will be okay with it," Luke agreed, and went quickly to the next cell.

You had only looked at a handful of doors before Luke found the one he was after. With the task done, you knew you should get going, but with a glance into the cell, your curiosity won you over.

A woman was asleep on the metal bed, and you guessed she was Leia. She woke with no urgency and propped herself up with her forearm. She had a white dress that fell to her ankles, and her dark, brown hair was tied up on either side of her head.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" she quipped.

"Huh?" Luke started. "Oh the uniform!" He whipped off his helmet, revealing shoulder-length, blond hair. "I'm Luke Skywalker! I'm here to rescue you!"

Leia became much more interested now. "You're who?" she questioned as she sat up.

"I'm here to rescue you. I've got your R2 unit. I'm here with Ben Kenobi," he explained rapidly.

You had no idea what was going on, but Leia stood quickly. "Ben Kenobi? Where is he?"

"Come on!" He turned around to you, and his blue eyes locked with yours. "I didn't get your name."

"Y/N," you answered. "Who's Ben Kenobi?" You were interrupted by a loud growl from down the hall.

"Get behind me! Get behind me!" The man who had warned Luke earlier seemed to be occupied.

"We gotta go." Luke responded, and grabbed your hand. You ran outside with Leia just behind, but when you heard blasters firing, you wondered if it wasn't safer in the cell.

The blasters stopped, and you were startled to see a Wookiee thundering toward you. You just avoided the creature as a dark-haired man (Han, you presumed) wearing the same stormtrooper uniform followed the Wookiee in like manner.

Blasters had been firing left and right and none of you had worn a helmet. Intelligent team we've got here, you remarked silently.

"Can't get out that way," he explained once he had caught up to his comrades. He turned to you. "Who's this?"

"Looks like you've managed to cut off our only escape route." Leia retorted, ignoring his question.

Han turned to her not missing a beat. "Maybe you'd like to go back to your cell, Your Highness."

The words were met by a blast from the stormtroopers that were now blocking the exit. The shots were barely missing as you all ran for what little cover there was.

You glanced at Leia, wondering why she was important enough to warrant a rescue party. Was she a queen? It would explain why she was imprisoned here. Even if she wasn't, you knew she needed protection as much as any of you.

You grabbed her arm and she spun around. "Come with me!" you commanded over the commotion.

Together, you ran to the cell you'd been kept in. When you entered the cell you were relieved to see the trooper you'd knocked out earlier was still unconscious.

"Is this a way out?" she questioned. You bent down and removed the armor from him.

"No," you answered. "It's a way to survive."

"I don't see how this will help," she reasoned, once she was fully armor-clad. "We're outnumbered and at least two of us are inexperienced." She said this nodding in Luke and Han's direction.

As much as you couldn't argue, you took comfort that the armor would help keep her alive at least a little longer.

You heard the Wookiee howl from outside and fear washed over you. Leia ran back out only to be met with more blaster shots. She ducked behind Luke while you ran behind the Wookiee.

"I can't hold 'em off forever! Now what?" Han demanded, frustrated.

"This is some rescue!" Leia complained over the noise. "You came in here, and do you have a plan for getting out?"

"He's the brains, sweetheart!" Han yelled back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Leia reaching over Luke and stealing his blaster. You had forgotten that you had one at all, and Leia hadn't got the one from the unconscious stormtrooper. She aimed the blaster in Han's direction. She's going to shoot him!  You had no time to think before she fired. The laser hit next to his leg and opened up a space in the wall. The noise made your ears ring, as Han threw some protest at Leia.

"Into the garbage shoot, Flyboy!" you barely heard her say. She tossed the blaster back to Luke then slid down the hole she had just made. The Wookiee behind you pushed you forward and down the chute before you had time to object.

You landed on a pile of garbage that broke your fall. The loose armor on your body shifted uncomfortably. The softness of the garbage underneath you was the first thing you noticed, and you were very grateful for it. The second was the putrid smell that swamped you and made you gag. You were not as grateful for that part.

"Get out of the way!" Leia called to you. You got up clumsily and stumbled over to where she was standing. Right after, the Wookiee landed right where you had been. He stood, growling, headed for a single door in the wall, and banged on it. You looked up the chute expecting Luke and his friend to fall down soon.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped and spun around. "You said your name was Y/N, right?" Leia asked you as she took off her helmet.

You nodded and removed yours.

"I'm Leia Organa of Alderaan. You don't have to worry. We're going to be alright."

You hadn't realized you'd been shaking. You weren't scared, but even if you were, would that really have been a comfort? You had been imprisoned, escaped with armed soldiers shooting at you, and tossed head-first into a garbage pit with seemingly now way out.

"If those two can figure out left from right, I might just believe that," you replied, trying to prove you were fine as could be after falling into a swamp of diluted garbage.

Luke fell across from you and rolled down the junk hill into what you could only hope was water.

Han followed soon after. He barely finished landing before he started mouthing off again. "The garbage shoot! Really wonderful idea," he remarked sarcastically. "What an incredible smell you've discovered!"

Leia didn't respond, but shot him a well-deserved glare.

Han turned to the Wookiee, who was still banging on the door. "Chewie, would you stop that?"

"Chewie" growled in reply and continued his racket.

"Get out of here. Get away from there!" Han ordered as he raised his gun.

As Han fired the blaster, Luke yelled, "No, wait!"

The laser jumped back and forth against the walls, ceiling, and back again. Everyone tumbled to a crouched position as the laser continued. Finally with a final loud blast, the laser hit a piece of garbage and stopped.

"Would you forget it? I already tried it! It's magnetically sealed!" Luke screamed.

"Put that thing away! You're going to get us all killed!" Leia added, more furious than Luke.

You stood slowly and watched the heated conversation in front of you.

"Absolutely, Your Worship," Han snapped. "Look! I had Everything under control 'til you led us down here!" He looked around at the walls. "Y'know it's not going to take 'em long to figure out what's happened to us."

"Could be worse," Leia pointed out.

A low rattling, growl answered her. You looked over at Chewie, but it obviously hadn't come from him. "It's worse." Han declared.

"There's something alive down here." Luke said.

Han waved him off. "That's just your imagination," he reasoned.

You hoped Han was right.

Luke jumped. "Something just moved past my leg," he announced. The growling continued. "Look! Did you see that?" Luke pointed at the murky water. You couldn't see what he pointed at, but Leia looked especially worried now. She started back up the pile of garbage.

"What?" Han yelled. Chewie whimpered and started banging on the door yet again. You all fell quiet. Something was moving through the water. It circled around you, and you inhaled sharply, getting the other's attention.

"Y/N." Luke whispered to you. "Don't move."

You bit your lip, fighting every urge to pull away from the creature. Suddenly, it tightened around your leg causing you to scream and jump away. You landed next to Han who jerked you out of the water. Your attacker screeched in frustration. You looked down at your foot which was now bare. All it had gotten was your boot. Han looked down at your foot.

"Lucky you don't know how to wear armor," he almost laughed. "If you did--"

He was cut short when Luke yelled and disappeared under the water. "Kid!" He yelled and jumped to the spot where Luke had been. Han repeated his name with no answer as he searched the water desperately.

You ran to the water and started sifting your hands through it. A few times, you thought you'd found him but came up with a handful soggy trash. Your heart raced faster every second he was underwater. Running your hand through the water was almost as hopeless as calling him, but you didn't stop.

Behind you you heard something jump out of the water.

"Luke!" Leia yelled. You and Han sloshed over to where Luke was wrestling with the creature that had almost drowned him. It had a slimy tentacle wrapped around his neck and another seemed to be pulling him down.

"Blast it will you? My gun's jammed!" Luke choked.

"Where?" Han asked.

"Anywhere!"

Han fired two blasts into the water then tried helping Luke up. The creature still hadn't let go and you had to help get Luke to safety. Han kept shooting, hoping the lasers were hitting something.

Just as you thought you'd won the fight for Luke, a final tentacled tug dragged him back under. The silence that followed pressed on you. The only thing that disturbed the water now was Han backing away from where Luke had sunk. Helplessness overcame you as you stood frozen in the polluted water.

"Get out of the water." Han told you.

You didn't move. You knew you should listen to him, but your eyes were trained on the spot where Luke disappeared.

"Get out of there!"

You weren't aware of the tentacle wrapped around your waist until you were dragged under the water.

You'd barely gotten a breath in before the foul liquid rushed into your mouth. Panic set air free of your lungs and your chest soon began to hurt. Your eyes stung and you hit debris in the water as you were dragged down. You struggled to break free, but you couldn't land a blow hard enough. You fell limp as you descended. Your lungs screamed, begging for air. You felt the monster release your waist and grab your arm. You didn't have the strength to fight back. Even if Han could kill it, you wouldn't have any air left to make it to the surface.

It jerked your arm again and again. What was it doing? You were aware that you were no longer sinking. The grip on your arm was human. You were slowly rising back up. You tried to kick to help whoever was pulling you, but you could only concentrate on the tight pain in your chest. With one last pull, you broke surface unable to breathe and coughed up water.

"What happened?" You barely heard Leia through your fit of coughing. Luke was being hauled up to safety by Han, choking as much as you were.

"I don't know!" He got out. "It just let go of me and disappeared!" Once Luke was out of the water, Han turned to help you.

A loud crash made you jump.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Han stated. With Han's help you made it over to where Luke was standing. Luke was still sniffing and coughing. He'd been down there longer than you had. How did he make it?

"Are you going to be alright?" you asked him.

"I think so," He looked at the door where Chewie was standing. "I'll be better if we can get out of here."

You heard the metal walls around you groan. The sound of something powering on provoked the walls to close in on you.

"The walls are moving!" Luke cried.

"Don't just stand there! Try and brace it with something!" Leia commanded. You all started looking around the piles of garbage to find something strong enough. Chewie pushed against the wall. "Help me!" Leia called. Han picked up a long pole she was trying to lift herself, and put it end to end against the walls.

"Wait," Luke said to himself. He pulled a small device from his belt and started yelling into it. "Threepio! Come in Threepio!" You had no idea who Threepio was, or if he could help you, but having false hope in this situation seemed worse than being in it at all.

"Threepio!" Luke repeated. "Where could he be?" As Luke tried to make contact with Threepio, Han was trying to hold the pole which was bending in his hands. He let go of it and ran to Leia.

"Get on top of it!" He instructed. You and Leia started climbing the piles of trash hoping it would buy you more time. "One thing's for sure. We're all going to be a lot thinner," Han commented. Leia slipped and fell back to the bottom of the pile. Han jumped over to help her. "Get on top of it!" He said again.

"I'm trying!" Leia cried.

The walls were close enough now for you to touch both of them at once. Drowning would have been better than being crushed. Luke was trapped between two stacks of garbage and couldn't seem to move. Leia and Han were trying to stay on top of all the trash, and Chewie was trying to push the wall back still. You stood next to Luke trying to dig him out. You lost your balance many times as the junk shifted beneath you.

"Are you there sir?" You heard the voice coming from Luke's hand. He responded immediately.

"Threepio?" he called into the small device.

"We've had some problems--" the voice answered back. Luke cut him off.

"Would you shut up and listen to me?" he yelled. "Shut down all the garbage smashers on the detention level, would ya? Do you copy? Shut down all the garbage smashers on the detention level!"

The garbage around you was pressing you into the wall as the wall pressed you back into the garbage. Long sharp metals were finding their way through the gaps in your armor. Then everything shut down. The still walls aroused hollers and cheers from everybody. Your heart was racing with excitement as you wrapped your arms around Luke's neck and hugged him tight. Luke told Threepio to open the door and you all kissed the disgusting room goodbye.

You were in a yet another small hallway looking out over a landing pad swarmed with troopers. Han came up behind you.

"There she is," he announced. "The fastest ship in the galaxy."

You scanned the area hoping above all hopes that he wasn't talking about the lousy piece of junk sitting in the middle of the bay.

"You came in that?" Leia started. "You're braver than I thought."

Han mimicked a smile. "Nice." He answered, upset at the insult. "Come on."

You followed him, assuming he knew the way. You felt more confident after Luke had showed you how to adjust the armor and fire your blaster. You thought you might make it out alive when you turned the corner to find a large group of stormtroopers walking toward you. Both parties stopped immediately.

"Where are you going?" A trooper in the front questioned. For a second you forgot you were still in the stormtrooper armor. Han looked at you, and you could imagine he was trying to conjure up an excuse. His gaze snapped to your foot which was still bare from the garbage monster's attack.

"We need to get her a new boot. She lost her other one to the trash compacter," He explained. It wasn't a lie, but Han wasn't very good at selling the truth.

The trooper walked closer. "What were you doing around the trash compacter?"

You spoke up before Han ruined your chance to get past. "We were trying to get to the princess and her comrades." You told him. "They were gone before we got there."

"What's your identification number?" You were about to answer with another lie, but Han raised his blaster and shot one of the troopers. The rest of the soldiers, somehow frightened by a man and his Wookiee, retreated down the hall. As Han and Chewie gave chase,  he instructed you to get back to the ship.

"Where are you going? Come back!" Luke called after him.

"He certainly has courage." Leia remarked.

"What good'll it do us if he gets himself killed?" Luke responded still staring down the hall. He nodded in the opposite direction. "Come on." He grabbed your hand and led you and Leia from where Han had disappeared. Gunfire sounded behind you as another squad of troopers fell in pursuit. Luke ran faster, and just barely caught himself from falling off the edge of a missing bridge. You barely pulled him back with Leia's help.

"I think we took a wrong turn," he said. Leia turned around to a panel on the wall and closed the door. She turned to Luke.

"There's no lock!" She exclaimed. Luke shifted over to where Leia was standing on the small ledge and blasted the panel.

"That'll hold them for a while," Luke said hopefully.

"Quick, we've got to find a way across! Find the controls to extend the bridge!" Leia commanded. Your eyes fell to the fried wires that dangled by Luke's side.

"I think I just blasted it," he looked almost embarrassed when he answered.

"They're coming through!" Leia looked around desperately, but you noticed Luke studying the ceiling.

"Y/N, Leia, look on your belts. See if there's, oh, I don't know, like a rope or something!" Luke instructed. Before you could check anything, four stormtroopers fired their guns from another doorway not far off from the one you were trying to get to. Thankfully they had missed every shot (as, you realized, they often did). More desperate than ever to get out, you reached around your belt for rope. You pulled up a gnarled hook which was connected to a stream of thin wire. You nudged Luke.

"Will this do?" You showed him what you had found, and his eye's lit up.

"Leia! See the columns hanging from the ceiling? Latch your grappling hook to one of them and swing across!" Luke yelled. "You too, Y/N. Go!" You swung the hook to the columns Luke had referred to earlier. By the time it had caught Luke was ready to swing across, but Leia was having trouble.

"It's jammed!" She cried. Luke quickly wrapped his arm around her and poised to jump when Leia kissed him on the cheek. "For luck!" She explained simply. With that, the three of you jumped from the ledge.

***

You sat on the floor of the Millennium Falcon now as you recalled your feet dangling over the long drop that you could have faced. You remembered how your arm hurt from having to keep you from that drop. You rested your head on Luke's shoulder, happy that he was sitting with you rather than swinging across a chasm with you.

"And then I got us out of there in this beauty," Han boasted as he gestured to the ship around you. Leia bent forward in her chair.

"Only because Ben Kenobi was willing to risk his life for us," she reminded the cocky pilot. You knew Luke didn't like talking about it even though you were all very grateful to old jedi.

"Or maybe," you said. "It was that good-luck-kiss you gave Luke." You watched Luke blush next to you.

Leia smiled. "If I had known you were in love with Luke then, I would have let you give it to him."

But you hadn't loved him then, and even when you did, you hadn't admitted it to yourself right away. It was something that just snuck up on you one day and wouldn't leave, no matter how much you had tried to shove it under the rug. You were glad you had eventually given up trying.

"Well we're going to need more than a kiss to keep us alive from what we're getting ourselves into," Han said.

"Right," Leia confirmed. "We're going to need teamwork. I don't mean splitting up and hoping both teams stays alive long enough to meet on the other side. I mean really working together."

You all nodded in agreement. Leia, having been satisfied with the response, stood up and left the room. Han and Chewbacca walked off not long after. Luke stood then helped you up as well.

"Leia's right you know. We're a team, you and me. We have been since the day we met, and we've got to stay with each other," he said.

You shrugged. "I don't know," you smirked. "I think a good-luck-kiss could still be in order." He pulled you closer to him.

"Oh, really?" He asked smiling.

"You have to promise not to die," you demanded.

He laughed. "I thought that's why you were giving it to me."

"You still have to promise," you insisted.

"Because I love you, Y/N, I promise I will not leave you," he promised. "Not today, not tomorrow, not until we're both very old and content."

Satisfied with the answer, you kissed him softly.

"I'll stay with you," you assured him. "Because Leia is right. It's teamwork that will keep you safe when you decide to jump across chasms while people are shooting at you."

"Luckily we won't be doing that anymore, so I think I'll settle for kisses," He answered, grinning. He grabbed your hand. "Come on... Let's go join the rest of our team."

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[solalunar-eclipse]

SYCS - 1 Year Anniversary

Chapter title: Set In Stone

Word count: about 4000 words

Next

Author’s Note: On July 26, 2020, I posted the first chapter of Scars You Can’t See. One year later, I’ve written five stories of varying lengths and am currently working on a sixth (wow)! My writing’s come a long way since then, and a lot of my improvement is thanks to everyone who encourages me to continue said writing, whether it’s through likes, reblogs, or comments. Thank you all so much for your support so far! :)

This is a rewrite of the very first chapter of SYCS, since the original could use a little fixing. Some important notes: I’ve edited a few parts of the story to be more in character, Chapter 2 starts in a different place after this updated version, and I’ve also fixed up chapter 13 because apparently I forgot to finish the motif I started?? Somehow??? At least I remembered eventually...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the (revised) story!

Before, Shadow had always been able to just ignore what it meant to work for G.U.N.

He’d managed somehow to convince himself to brush aside the fact that the soldiers he worked with (had been coerced into working with) wore the same uniforms as those who killed Maria, his dear sister and first friend. To push away any idea that he couldn’t deal with serving the same organization that had once wanted him dead. (It was the only way to stay with his friends, of course he could deal.)

The same thing went for using guns during the Black Arms invasion- even though he’d had amnesia, he remembered enough that he’d needed to rely on adrenaline near constantly just to make it through those times. Despite this, he had still taken the better part of a month to recover afterwards.

His memories of that day were particularly fresh for a while.

Once the invasion had been successfully repelled, G.U.N. had hired him to work for them very rapidly, as a matter of fact. During the process, some of the people along the way strongly suggested that if the organization wasn’t able to keep an eye on him, then…well, then they’d be very displeased. 

Shadow knew all too well that you did not want G.U.N. displeased with you.

The hybrid felt nothing but exhausted as these thoughts whirled through his head for the hundredth time. They’d only become a major problem recently, ever since the military organization had begun to require him to resume using guns on his missions. Every single time he touched one, the cold steel left his palms slick inside his gloves and made his head swim with flashes of memories too often repressed. Still, he had to use them- he’d be taken off missions entirely if he refused, and Shadow would never leave Rouge and Omega in the lurch like that.

However, his mental health had been growing ever worse these past few weeks as a result. He thought (hoped) he’d done a good job of hiding it from Rouge and Omega, but Shadow had been sparring with Sonic noticeably less. The hybrid had struggled with the idea of inflicting more violence on others in his spare time, and the hero had asked him about it several times, trying to figure out the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Shadow shook his head, pushing his doubts and worries away just as he always had before. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by his thoughts- they might spill over into missions if he wasn’t careful. Forcing himself to focus on his schedule for the day and nothing else, he walked out of his room to take on whatever might come his way.

…

He was skating through the halls of an old, decrepit building (currently being used as a hideout by Eggman) on a mission. A robot stepped into his path.

Shadow hadn’t used his weapon yet on this assignment. He remembered the thinly veiled threat after his first refusal- we may have to remove you from missions if you cannot handle this responsibility- and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He shut his eyes, whipped out the firearm, and pulled the trigger. Flinching at the sound out of instinct, he refused to open his eyes until the gun was away, when he didn’t have to see it anymore. The robot lay on the ground, a smoking hole in its center. He tried to ignore the lingering sensation of the G.U.N. logo embossed on the handgrip in his palm.

Shadow felt the floor tilt for a moment under him before he regained his bearings.

He refused to look at the machine as he rushed by.

…

The exhausted hedgehog curled up in bed at night, unable to keep himself from hearing gunshots over and over and over. He fought against the memories of that day, refused to let them spill over into his thoughts.

Yet despite his best efforts, he knew he’d dream of it again tonight. He knew that he’d wake up screaming with her name in his mouth and the sight of blood still burned into his eyes. It had happened every night since he’d received the weapon.

Shadow swallowed down his fearful apprehension over what would come next. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to close his eyes, even though he wished to do the exact opposite. Dreams were not real. He could not let them hold power over him.

But still, he shivered as he tried to fall asleep.

…

He and Omega were standing in the center of a courtyard, broken badnik scrap lying all around them. This mission was supposed to be easy, just a simple in-and-out. Take out the bots, grab the intel, and go.

Rouge had asked them to cover for her as she searched for information in the abandoned computers alone. Shadow hadn’t liked the idea of leaving her alone but agreed grudgingly anyway.

He looked down at the firearm he held in his hands and tried his hardest not to cringe.

Flashes of memories threatened to surface again, of escape pods and gunshots and too much blood-

“Shadow.”

He jumped, not expecting Omega’s loud voice so suddenly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You have been distracted for nearly ten minutes. Are you unwell?”

Shadow sighed, projecting a relaxed attitude. “Everything is fine. I was simply thinking.”

“About what?” Omega asked curiously.

“Nothing much.”

Silence descended upon the two again for a minute. 

“Shadow.” the E-series robot repeated.

“What.” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he’d intended.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. You looked distressed.”

“I’m fine, alright?” Shadow insisted. “Just- forget it, Omega.”

Omega stepped closer. “Past experience has informed me that you tend to hide important thoughts from others. Therefore, I will assume that this is essential knowledge until proven otherwise.”

“It’s not important.”

The robot placed his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. The latter wouldn’t admit it, but the weight was comforting, in a way.

“This is not adequate proof. Do you not trust me, Shadow?”

He sighed. “I do trust you, Omega. You know that.”

“Then talk.” Omega’s processors whirred for a moment, before adding, “Please.”

The hybrid’s shoulders slumped- he knew his friend wouldn’t stop until he told the truth. “I was thinking, how weird is it, that I work for the same organization that ki-...caused my sister’s-” He paused on the word, fighting not to trip over his sentences. “-death and...attempted to cause mine. Among other things. And how now...I must use weapons like the ones that took her from me...to harm others.” He sighed, nearly worn out just from the effort of discussing that event’s existence.

Omega jerked away from him, startling Shadow. “G.U.N. is the organization that killed your sister?” he asked, sounding- if it were possible- shocked.

“And the one that locked me away in cryostasis for 50 years, yes.” Shadow said, feigning calm.

Omega made a staticky noise that sounded like a sharp exhale. “Shadow. Why did nobody tell me this before? And why in the name of Chaos do you still work here?”

Shadow looked away, hiding the bitterness in his expression. “Multiple reasons. One, the organization has somewhat cleaned up its act, as far as I can tell. Two, it wants to keep me under surveillance, since I am still ‘potentially dangerous’ to them...and consequences would be severe if I did not obey.”

He tapped his heel on the ground. “Also, it was one of the main avenues for us to become heroes. Unlike Sonic and his friends, we don’t have the luxury of fighting someone who wants us to know where they are. And you know we didn’t exactly have the best record with law enforcement beforehand.”

“Still.” Omega replied. “I am highly opposed to the concept of fighting in the name of such an organization. Have they at least apologized to you? Or admitted their wrongdoing?”

Shadow frowned, thinking. “No, actually, they never did.”

Why did he have to bring this up? There’s no point in talking about what’s past. Let’s just get over it and move on.

Omega looked down, his eyes dimming slightly. “Processing.”

He was still processing by the time Rouge arrived, and remained mostly silent for their exit, post-mission briefing and the entire ride home.

Once the three had gotten inside, Rouge faced the E-series robot. “Alright, what’s up with you? You’re never quiet, but you’ve barely said a word since I got back.”

“I am considering an important decision.” Omega said.

“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked, folding her arms.

“My potential resignation from the government organization known as G.U.N..”

“Wait, what?” Rouge gasped. 

Shadow shouted out from the other room simultaneously. “Omega, what are you thinking?!”

“Current logic process is as follows: G.U.N. hurt one of the few decent people on this planet and my friend fifty years ago by murdering Maria Robotnik and many others aboard the ARK, as well as imprisoning him for said fifty years against his will. It has not apologized or shown remorse for those actions. Therefore, this organization clearly has no respect for Shadow, and therefore I refuse to aid them one moment longer.”

Shadow appeared at the robot’s side, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Omega, but you don’t need to do that for me. I’m alright with this.”

(He was lying, of course.)

“Hold on a minute here, Omega’s got a point.” Rouge said pensively. “I started working here so I wouldn’t go to jail for stealing, but I’ve served my ‘sentence’ ages ago. Honestly, I kind of hate it there anyway? Like, nobody even respects us and it’s got way too much bureaucracy and too many outdated ideas. It’d be much better if it was just the three of us doing our own thing away from them, wouldn’t it?”

“Besides, hon, you’ve got to start standing up against those guys. I know you were going through a major existential crisis a while back when this all started, and that was the main thing you had to deal with. But now that you’ve started to figure everything out, it’s time to stop letting people treat you this way! We don’t have to give G.U.N. anything. They never helped you at all.”

“Agreed.” Omega said. “This organization does not deserve you- or any of us. They have wronged you, and though forgiveness is supposedly a ‘virtue’, it is likely so only when it is deserved.”

Shadow stared at the two of them. “That was...actually kind of philosophical for a minute. And convincing.” He huffed, frustrated, his hands curling into fists. “I just…how would I even go about dealing with my grievances with an entire military organization? I would need proof...and I don’t want to damage my standing with the government. G.U.N. can easily claim that I have gone rogue.” 

He swallowed, trying to ignore the various insecurities at the corners of his mind. “I’m just...should I really be digging all of this up again? I’ve finally started to get over it…”

“Okay, so first of all, hon, you’d better not let G.U.N. walk all over you just because they can make up fake blackmail.” the bat insisted. “And second, you’re clearly not over it. Shadow...I can hear you when you wake up from your nightmares, you know. You deserve some kind of closure to help you, and if G.U.N. won’t give it to you, then you have to take it.

“Also, here’s another thing- how much worse would you feel if G.U.N. hurt someone else, and we had never said anything to warn anyone?”

Shadow stiffened, feeling ill again. The very idea was abhorrent. That another person’s Maria could be lost due to his silence...“That...that would be unimaginable….” he breathed.

“Exactly.” Rouge replied. “So, consider it.”

Shadow frowned. “I...I’ll keep it in mind. But we should at least see if they’ll do something first before we try to attack them. We might be able to convince them to make amends, after all. I mean, if we fight, we’ll be completely out of a job, and I don’t know if the funds from Club Rouge will be enough to keep us afloat- if we succeed. It’s too risky, at least for now.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then we can definitely stick with that to start.” the bat said. “I don’t know if I could’ve taken any of their apologies if it were me, but it’s not my life, it’s yours. So I’ll be right with you no matter what you decide to do, okay?”

“As will I.” Omega added, placing a hand on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Rouge. Thanks, Omega.” the hybrid said, finally allowing relief to show on his face as he looked at his friends.

He couldn’t help but feel that with them by his side, everything would be alright.

…

They talked through most of the night about how to bring it up, what they would say, and even where they would sit to keep Shadow feeling as safe as he could. The hybrid had final veto power over anything the other two suggested, and he tried to keep the wording of the speech he’d give as controlled and polite as possible. 

However, he tried not to bring up the “maybe G.U.N. still thinks I’m a weapon to be stored and used, not a person” topic during his proposal. Those insecurities could wait for another day.

They fell asleep late at night, all three in the same room- Shadow made a blanket nest on the floor, Omega plugged himself into the wall, and Rouge was on her bed.

Pleasantly enough, Shadow didn’t have any nightmares that night.

…

“You want us to do what?” 

The head of the public relations department stood behind his desk, cutting a slightly dominating figure in front of the team in his room. Omega could easily detect an increased heart rate in Shadow. He was not betraying any nervousness externally, however, and the robot was impressed by his friend’s willpower.

The PR head sat down, and he gestured for Team Dark to do the same. However, since there were only two chairs in the room (as they had known), Omega remained standing. Among other things, it would allow him to more easily defend his friends should the talk go awry.

“I’m afraid we just can’t do that kind of thing...Shadow.” He said the last word like it was distasteful, like it didn’t belong in his mouth. (Or, perhaps, like he wanted to add a “Project” or “Experiment” to the front of it, but didn’t for fear of a missile to the face delivered by Omega.)

“Why not?” The hybrid asked. “Sir,” he forced himself to add politely. “Don’t you agree that it was wrong? That G.U.N.’s soldiers shouldn’t have done...what they did?”

“I am incredibly saddened that Miss Robotnik’s death occurred in the search for you, and that the head of G.U.N. at the time considered you unworthy of any basic living rights.” the PR leader said, sounding more than anything like he was reading a script off a teleprompter. “However, I am not going to make a public statement digging up something that happened fifty years ago.”

Rouge leaned forward in her chair furiously. “So you’re just going to pretend it never happened? What about the trauma Shadow experienced? What about the fact that this kind of thing could happen again?”

The leader looked at her coldly. “I can assure you that this is an isolated incident, and that such an occurrence has not happened before or since.”

“But you can't just-! Can’t we speak with the commander?” Rouge gasped, outraged.

“I can, and I will. And you know very well that the commander is taking a well-deserved vacation, and we are not to disturb him for any reason except an emergency. Now then. Did you have anything else you needed?” he said smugly.

Omega was so, so close to just arming the missile launcher anyway.

Shadow looked up at him carefully, clearly going over the words in his head. “Sir. May I respectfully ask why G.U.N. considered it necessary to arm me? I can apply lethal force if necessary in other manners.”

The PR head frowned. “Close quarters are not necessarily a safe space for you, Shadow. We need you alive, and if that means you’re farther back, then so be it.”

“But- me? Destroying with impunity? In such a cold, distant manner? That’s not what G.U.N. wants to see from me, I thought. And with my experiences, I really don’t think-”

The human folded his arms. “Don’t worry about thinking, just worry about completing your missions on time. And what’s past is past, right? Now then, I expect no more complaints from you three. This meeting is concluded.”

Shadow stood up stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Rouge froze. “Wait, Shadow, you’re not just going to-”

“We’re leaving, Rouge. Now.” Shadow said firmly, but the two other members of Team Dark could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. Omega remained silent, but internally was playing a very nice simulation in which he repeatedly punched the head of the PR department.

Once they had exited the office and walked through the facility for a while, Shadow leaned heavily against a wall. “He’s not sorry at all.” he muttered. The robot didn’t need his sensors to tell that he was experiencing far too many negative feelings at once. It wasn’t healthy for organics to deal with all that all the time…

“Agreed.” Omega said. “I would not be surprised in the least if he was lying throughout all of it.”

Rouge sighed, before pulling an unresisting Shadow into a hug. “Honey, I’m...” She paused for a second. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You shouldn’t have to cope with people like that, ever.”

Shadow closed his eyes quietly and stood like that for a long time. Eventually, though, he spoke up. “.....I know what we have to do. I...I know we need to fight, like you said last night. I don’t feel ready, but just…it has to happen.”

Omega looked down at them both. “You two go out to the car. I will go and get your sister’s files myself while you take a few minutes, Shadow. I am bulletproof and the most likely to make it out unscathed, and if I need help I can call.”

Rouge rolled her shoulders briefly, her wings flexing. “Alright. I’ll be ready to get out of here the second you get in. Sound good?”

“Alright.” Omega agreed. “Let’s go.”

The robot marched down the halls, on a mission. He stopped first to gather everything from their office- or at least all of their personal items. They might need them later, after all. He placed them into his empty chest compartment (he hadn’t refilled on weaponry in a while) and moved on. 

The lower levels of the G.U.N. facility were darker and less well-maintained. This was most likely on purpose, to keep people from wanting to go down there. Omega, however, did not fear the dark. He had a flashlight, and a hulking five-foot robot was usually enough to scare most creatures.

Thankfully, the guards stationed throughout these levels knew him, and simply stepped aside to let Omega pass. Quite a few of them were honestly nervous down there themselves, and barely even noticed him.

He noticed a small door marked ‘Records Room- Classified’ and knew he was in the right place. The door did not give him access, but that was alright. Rouge had hacked the system a while back and given herself the highest clearance possible...and now Omega had her spare card.

Once he was inside, he scanned the cabinets methodically until he found the file marked ‘Maria Robotnik’. Inside were papers detailing her death and her life. Everything one could have wanted to know about her was inside. 

The red stamp on the front reading ‘Terminated’ was pretty ominous, and Omega briefly wondered if he would be able to remove it. He considered the possibility that Shadow would not be quite so pained upon seeing it if the stamp were gone.

It was unlikely, and so he moved on.

Omega exited the room, hoping that the guards in the security monitor room were slacking off. They often were, so he calculated at least a 70% chance of exiting the facility without incident. He placed the file inside his compartment and continued on.

Being a robot meant that he could not act nervous. Therefore, nobody questioned him as he walked through the halls and outside, where he saw Rouge talking to Shadow inside their black-and-red car.

The hybrid appeared to be rather panicked about the whole plan, so as Omega slid into the backseat, he placed his hand on his friend’s head for a brief moment. “Everything is going to be alright, Shadow. I promise you that.”

Shadow sighed and slumped back against the seat. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices what we did.”

Rouge pulled out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires and didn’t let the speedometer dip below fifty until they got home.

“Right.” she said, once they were all inside. “We’ll probably have G.U.N. beating down our door by tomorrow morning, so let’s make sure they don’t catch us still here by then. Omega, refill your weapons and pack us some clothes and stuff. Shadow, you just try and chill. I’m going to look over this file.”

As Rouge flipped through the pages, Shadow decided that he needed to see these for himself and walked over to stand behind her. Before long, though, he recoiled in shock upon seeing that when G.U.N. discussed Maria’s death, they justified it. Made it seem like Shadow was the villain. A monster. A weapon.

“Shadow?” the bat asked.

“...yes?”

“You know we can’t use this by itself, right? We need more proof. Like, video proof.” she said, sounding resigned.

“I know.” he said quietly, disappointed that so little had changed despite the fact that half a century and some new management had taken place. 

Omega cursed out G.U.N. from the other room in response and came over to them, his eyes in their ‘angry’ shape. “We need to stop them now. This revolting organization does not deserve to spend another minute active anywhere on the planet.”

“Let’s get them, then.” Rouge hissed, clearly furious as well. 

Shadow felt terribly apprehensive, but despite that, he agreed as well. “Then they won’t be able to hurt anyone else in the future.” he said, sounding more determined than he had in a while.

“You ready, guys?” the bat asked, holding out her hand in the midst of their little group.

Omega allowed his giant metal hand to hover over hers. “Always.”

Rouge looked at the hybrid. “You sure you’re up for this, hon?”

“Not entirely…” Shadow admitted, but took a deep breath and held out his hand too, allowing Rouge to guide his hand to Omega’s, just like she had so long ago. “...but I need to do it, and so I will.”

“Then we’ll expose them, Shadow.” she said confidently. “And we’ve totally got this, because we’re doing it together.”

And as they all clasped hands for a moment, before breaking off to head to the garage, Shadow felt like they really had a chance to succeed.

#scars you can't see #sol's fanfiction #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #i've actually had this saved for a while! i thought the anniversary would be a good time to post it :) #i went back and reread chapter 1 and was like '.......i could write this so much better now' #so here we are! #i especially didn't like how omega forced shadow's hand- i much prefer this one where it's a team agreement #shadow's still a little hesitant because of how it turned out the last time he went up against g.u.n. #but he knows he needs to do this for himself (and for others too) #i did still try and keep the general plot structure the same though- just improved it (hopefully) #either way i'm looking forward to another year of writing! it's been really cool so far :D #thanks as always for reading

[bettsfic]

how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres. 

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost. 

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant 

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down. 

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income. 

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found. 

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1. 

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done. 

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown. 

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown. 

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby. 

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while. 

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting. 

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit. 

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus. 

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them. 

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed! 

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall. 

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped. 

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war. 

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you. 

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.

#writing advice #the writing life #writing update

[star-spangledstud]

Diamonds

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)reader

Summary: You knew exactly how to push Steve’s buttons.

Word Count: 4000-ish. 

Warnings: +18 SMUT (don’t read if you’re a minor), dom!Steve, slight daddy!kink if you squint, rough intercourse, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), reckless driving (don’t do it, kids.), cursing

A/N: I’ve been posting a lot of content. We’ll see how long I’m able to keep the creative juices flowing. Quarantine’s got me all fucked up, but at least it’s given me time to waste on Tumblr. Enjoy :)

Steve was angry. He was fucking pissed off, to be exact and it was all because of you. You knew it, felt the way his eyes drilled holes in your back all night. You could practically sense him fuming from across the club, even though the darkness as a result of the smoke machine near the spinning table engulfed you and the 150 other people in the room. 

Of course, it was Tony’s idea to rent one of the fanciest clubs in NYC for the night. You’d completed a very big mission just a few weeks ago, and after everyone had time to heal in the medical bay and file the appropriate paperwork, the case was closed at last, and he insisted on a celebration unlike any other. 

Bottles of champagne flowed across the dancefloor. Sweaty bodies of special agents, paper pushers from the lowest possible level and Avengers alike, all pressed up against each other in the room hotter than what you imagined hell to be like. You didn’t even fucking feel like going when Tony first proposed the idea, but everybody knew you couldn’t say no to him. Nobody could say no to him and his lavish parties. Not to mention the fact that you never wanted to go and yet you always managed to be the last to leave. You blamed the alcohol. 

He’d hired the best DJ in town. His tunes kept you on your feet despite the fact that they were starting to get sore, hips swaying sensually to the music in between Natasha and some random level 3 agent whose name you couldn’t remember for the life of you. He was just as tall as you in your patent leather Louboutins, his hair swept carelessly to one side. He clearly hadn’t changed after work, because he still had his SHIELD pin mended to his breast pocket. You’d just pulled his tie to drag him closer to you, which earned another hard glare from Steve. Everybody in the fucking room knew you were his, they didn’t even dare to come close to you, but this guy was clearly wasted and you’d initiated it. 

You could feel level 3′s dick through his pants while he continued to grind against your ass, just as you did to Natasha. You smiled, bopping your head along to the song, your curly hair bouncing lusciously up and down. A quick glance towards the bar made you snicker soundlessly, afraid he’d be able to hear you despite the loud music and people singing along. The thought of him being able to smell the perfume on your skin, his favorite, from all the way over there made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten.

He looked fucking good. Hair slicked back, deep red button-down loosened at the top tucked tightly into dark denim. He hadn’t shaved, he knew damn well how much you liked that, and his eyes weren’t so blue anymore in the strobe lights that illuminated him every twenty seconds. They looked black as if his pupils had bled into his irises.

You’d put effort into your appearance too, he could tell in an instant. Your lipgloss sparkled the same as the diamond necklace he had given you that hung around your neck. He remembered buying it for you, eyes nearly rolling out of his fucking skull when the guy that helped him pick it out told him the price. Your dress, black and short, had a split so high he was certain he could see your pussy if you made a wrong move, meaning level 3 could see it too. 

He downed another glass of scotch, slamming it down on the bar with a growl so low only Bucky could hear it. He shook his head at his friend, who also refused to get on the dancefloor. The way 21st-century people danced was unlike anything they were used to seeing back in their day. He couldn’t get drunk, but Steve could taste the alcohol on his tongue and the warmth of it in the back of his throat when he gulped another glass down. He hadn’t even noticed Bucky left him for Bruce, who also wasn’t dancing. Didn’t give a fuck, either way. All he had eyes for was you, showing off his money like it was yours, to begin with. 

You didn’t do that often. You were humble, wore jeans and a t-shirt on most days, didn’t indulge much. You tried to live sustainably where possible through recycling and cruelty-free beauty products. Hell, Steve had only actually seen you wear the necklace a handful of times, including your aunt’s wedding just to piss her off and make her jealous. He knew you had money too, it was a perk of being an Avenger, but spending money on yourself wasn’t the same as lavish gifts from your handsome as fuck boyfriend. Besides, you donated a lot of it to animal shelters and safe houses for women. 

“The party’s out there, you know?”

You gulped, skin-crawling in fear when Steve appeared out of the bathroom stall without warning. How long he’d been hiding the bathroom you didn’t know, but he knew it was you the second you pushed open the door and stepped inside. 

He could smell that guy on you as you stood in front of him, cheeks red from dancing and stray hairs sticking out from the sea of curls. It made his fists curl, his brow crease. He was mad as hell. 

“You scared me,” you said exasperatedly, blood rushing to your cheeks when he stepped out of the shadows and into view.

He didn’t smile back to you, which told you exactly how the night was going to go down. 

“You havin’ fun?” He asked, walking around you in a circle after you stepped away from the dirty mirror. 

He wanted to drink you in, take in your appearance while you still looked put together. Soon enough, the charade would be over and he’d have your make up smeared, clothes on the floor and your hair a mess. 

“Yeah,” you smirked, “you?”

“Not yet,” he growled in your ear, “but I will.”

He’d disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared, leaving you leaning against the dusty sink, breathing deeply in and out through your nose. When you trusted in your ability to stand up without tripping over your own feet, you grabbed your lipgloss from your purse, along with your perfume, of which you added two more spritzes. You didn’t want him to know how easily he was able to get to you, how easily he was able to make you shake. 

He had a plan, concocted it while drinking expensive scotch at the bar. Steve came up with it while he was watching you grind on another man. He knew why you did it, you wanted to get a rise out of him, and getting a rise out of him was exactly what you did. Of course, he could do the same to you, which is why he left you stumbling in the bathroom with nothing but a promise he intended to keep.

You returned to the floor after getting another vodka sprite from the other end of the bar. He noticed how empty your wrist was and told himself he’d buy you a diamond bracelet to match the necklace. You’d like that. He’d fuck you raw and stupid after giving it to you, just like he did when he gave you the necklace. 

Even when you were starting to get a buzz, you could still feel his fucking eyes on you, never leaving your swaying hips, bouncing tits and shaking ass. For a moment, the two of you made eye contact. Instantly, you knew you were screwed. You could read him like a book. 

“Steve,” you gasped when his hands tightly gripped your waist suddenly, “you’re dancing.”

He was on the dancefloor, yeah, but the man was hardly dancing. The only thing he was moving was his hips against your ass. He didn’t need to tell Level 3′s sorry ass to fuck off, the look on his face had the young man scrambling away in fear immediately. Natasha had left minutes before, busying herself with the hottest bartender in the club while he poured her a dirty martini with five olives.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He whispered in your ear, lips pushing against soft flesh. His beard scratched your throat, sending delicious tingles down your entire spine.

“What do you mean?” You asked, pretending to be oblivious, “I’m not doing anything.”  

Steve’s hand caressed your hip, snaking around the front to touch your barely clothed pussy. Your cheeks reddened, eyes frantically searching for anyone who might be watching but finding none. Everyone around you was either drunk or making out. 

“What are you doing Steve?!” You hissed, biting your tongue, “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, kissing the side of your face and neck, “it is, I know it.”

He dragged you out of the club and into his BMW, harshly securing your seatbelt before getting behind the wheel. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel the entire drive, and you could see him straining against his pants. You didn’t say anything, the only sound audible being the angrily revving engine of his car. He was flooring it the whole way there, ignoring red lights and swerving around every car on the road that was in his way. 

“See how it feels when you tease me,” he mumbled, “you’re gonna be fucking sorry real soon.”

“No,” you stammered, “please.”

He sat down on the bed, grabbing your wrists and yanking you down over his lap. You kicked your heels in the air in an attempt to get free from his iron grasp, but he only needed one hand to restrain you while the other traveled up the back of your legs so slowly it made you want to cry. His hand disappeared under your dress and found no panties, just as he expected. He knew you too well. 

“You’re real bad, aren’t you?” He asked, retrieving his hand back so he could pull the dress up to expose your naked pussy, “did you think I was gonna let you get away with what you just did to me?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” you mewled, “I swear.” 

“Grinding up on that guy all night? Letting him touch you in front of me? How dare you?”

He caressed your ass, tracing his fingers over your lips before smacking both cheeks without warning. You squirmed, wiggling on top of him. You’d seen him angry before but only on rare occasions; either when he was chasing after bad guys, or when you’d pissed him off and this time, you’d pissed him off real good. Just like you wanted to do. 

“Don’t you dare move against my dick,” he said with a tug on your hair, “or you don’t get to cum.”

He plunged three fingers into your mouth, silently ordering you to suck on them while he continued to keep your wrists bound. You already knew what was going to happen and it took every ounce of strength for you not to move. He chuckled when you nibbled on his fingers, coating each and every one of the three with your saliva. 

He plunged them into you without warning. You cried out, unable to stop yourself from trying to break from his grip on you. You were already wet, probably didn’t even need the saliva, but it helped his fingers glide in so easily it made him want to laugh. You were putty in his hands and he knew it. How the hell had he gone from being little, insecure, baby Steve to this man, this unrelenting, unforgiving force of a man? 

“Shut up,” he growled, picking up the pace, “did I tell you you could make noise?”

“N-no,” you stammered, “no Steve.” 

His fingers left your cunt before you could properly enjoy it. You knew why he did it; he was getting you ready for his cock. You’d had it countless times in places you couldn’t even recall, had it gently and so hard you couldn’t talk after, but you always needed time to adjust.

He grabbed ahold of your legs with his slick-coated fingers and picked you up, effortlessly tossing you onto the bed like a ragdoll. You heaved, hair already beginning to stick to your forehead while you watched him slowly unbutton his shirt.

“What do I keep telling you about pissing me off, huh?” He taunted, slipping the shirt over his broad shoulders.

“I told you not to do that,” his pants were next, falling limply at his feet after he unzipped and unbuttoned them, “but you don’t listen. You don’t listen because you like what happens when I’m mad, don’t you?” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you breathed, gazing up at him through fake eyelashes, “I didn’t mean to-”

You weren’t sorry. You enjoyed this, this side of Steve. Loved it even, how sometimes, he was able to let go of his own righteousness and give in to his darkness. It had taken almost a year of being in a vanilla relationship for him to show you this side of him, and you’d ached for it ever since. You did it on purpose, grinding with other people, dressing up in clothing inappropriate for the occasion. Short skirts, tight blouses, and fuck, those sheer black stockings with the black stripe running along the back of your heel to your panties. Short shorts and cropped tops in the summer, so short they nearly showed off your fucking tits. He hated it because men worldwide couldn’t help but look at you even though you were his and his alone. You were his prized possession. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“You know,” you answered smugly, “I could feel his erection on my ass the whole time.” 

Steve growled, pushing your back into the mattress before starting towards you.   

“I told you what happens when you make me angry,” he said, lowering himself onto the bed until he was straddling you, one leg on each side of your trembling hips, “you know what happens, don’t you?” 

“Yes, Steve,” you moaned, rocking your hips up against him. 

You gripped his bicep, but once again, he used his hand to bind your wrists, this time holding them above your head, “You gonna be good for me and apologize?” 

“Yes,” you cried out, “I’m sorry!” 

You still weren’t. In fact, you had to fight the urge to grin. You had him right where you wanted him, despite his hold on you. You wanted him to fuck you until you couldn’t see straight and he was going to give it to you either way. 

He let go of you, hands traveling across the diamonds around your neck. He ripped the necklace from your throat in one single motion, earning a gasp and a loud ‘what the fuck?!’ from you when it snapped in half. He tossed it to the ground as if it was trash, discarding it like it hadn’t cost him the price of a house. 

“Daddy’s gonna buy you a whole lot more diamonds if you’re good,” he whispered, “Is that what gets your little pussy dripping? Me spending my hard-earned money on you? Answer me!”

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “shoes, too. And a car.” 

He laughed, taking your clothed tits and rubbing them before ripping the silk dress in half with his bare hands.

“What do you need a car for? You don’t even drive. I do. I’m like your fucking private chauffeur, always driving you around.” He was right about that.  

You smirked, “want you to fuck me in it.”

Steve began to grow tired of your mind games. His dick was hard as granite, as were his bulging muscles, and he needed a release fast. He’d go back to being sweet old Steve after he got what he wanted, but for now, he was a man in heat, needing to take what was rightfully his. One of the busted diamonds pierced the skin on your ass when you found yourself laying on it, but you didn’t care. You welcomed the sting.

Steve rolled you over until you were on your stomach. With one arm around your throat in a chokehold, he lifted up your body, taking you in a position that could almost be classified as Doggystyle. He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the lovely sight and the sweet smell of your pussy dripping just for him. Your love for him was like a fucking disease and unfortunately, it turned out to be terminal. You ached with anticipation while he dragged the head of his cock along your entrance, back and forth between your pussy lips. 

The air was taken from your lungs when he shoved himself inside you, not wasting any time with pleasantries and soft-spoken words. He bit down on your shoulder, earning a loud moan to escape your lips. He wasn’t gentle, this wasn’t making love, but it was what you both desired and he was more than happy to give it to you. 

You whined breathlessly, pussy clenching around the length of his cock as he drove into you.

“Could’ve just told me you wanted me to fuck you,” he groaned, “’stead of makin’ me all mad at Tony’s party.”

You wanted to tell him off and if you would, he’d probably have to tell you you were right because he never did this unless he had a reason, but your mouth remained shut instead. Steve was a softy at all times, sweet and gentle and a true gentleman, except for when you brought out the beast in him. 

He grabbed your hair, yanking it so your body stood flush against his. You could feel him, every inch of his marvelous abs expanding and contracting and his hips, slapping against your ass with each thrust. You arched your back into him, exposing your neck to his lips. He began to suck on your skin immediately, leaving marks that would last for days on your beautifully soft skin. This pulled another sinful moan from your glossy lips. 

You turned your head, forcing his head towards your face with your free hand while the other grasped the one on your hip. You kissed him hard, lips and teeth and tongues crashing together. You could taste the scotch on his breath and he caught a whiff of your strawberry lip gloss. You smiled into his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on his skin. They’d see the bruise in the morning, although come afternoon, the serum would’ve taken care of it. You hoped somebody would see. 

“Goddamnit,” he cursed after tasting blood, hand around your hair loosening before sliding down the length of your body in search of your clit, “gonna make you cum so hard you can only say my name.”

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and slapped your ass with it before resting it on your hip so he could get a better grip. 

You whimpered when his fingers made contact, another moan drawn from you when he began to rub the sensitive bud forcefully. You couldn’t hold on much longer. 

“Want you to say it,” he ordered, “say my name. Say it right now.”

“Steve,” you cried out so loud you were sure whoever had the room next to his could hear, “oh, fuck Steve!”

“Don’t stop,” he rubbed faster, “keep saying it. Gonna fuck my name from your brain, fuck it right out.” 

“Steve,” you squeaked, “Steve, Steve, Steve.” 

You grabbed the wrist of the hand on your clit and dug your nails into his skin, whining his name over and over until you couldn’t stand the tightening of your stomach any longer.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he commanded, “I didn’t give you permission to stop.” 

 You did as told while he continued to ram his cock deep into you, grunts escaping from his lips while he pounded into you at an unforgiving pace. Your throat would be sore in the morning, but you didn’t stop, chanting his name over and over like a prayer.  

“You gonna cum all over my dick, huh?” He throbbed inside of you, panting harshly against your lips.

“Want you to cum inside me, Steve,” you dug your nails into him, “give me your fucking cum right now.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna give you my fucking cum.”

You loved drawing profanities from a man who didn’t curse. It was like a game to you, seeing how many curses you could squeeze out of America’s golden boy before he’d collapse on top of you. You loved how dirty he could be behind closed doors, loved the contrast between the sweet and gentle Steve that held your hand in public and this monster of a man who bought you expensive things and fucked you senseless with his thick cock afterward. He loved it too, didn’t even know it until you pissed him off for real one time and it just happened out of the blue, but after that, he hadn’t looked back. It came so naturally, he was afraid of himself sometimes, but then he’d see that blissful sheen, that fucked out look on your face and the smile you wore just for him and he was instantly reminded of why he did it. 

Because it felt good. 

You already knew you’d be bruised when you’d wake up next to him in the morning from the way his fingers grasped you tightly, but you loved it, knowing you carried his markings under your clothing and you were sure he loved it too. 

He didn’t stop, not even when you’re moaning his name so loud it’s almost deafening. He didn’t stop when your pussy clenched painfully around his dick, didn’t stop when you began to tremble and shake so hard he thought you were having a fucking fit. You started moving away from him in an attempt to ease the overbearing sensation of his fingers still forcefully rubbing on your clit, but he simply yanked you back against him, sweat-covered biceps flexing while his thrusts became so sloppy he could hardly stay upright. You gripped the headboard so tight you thought it would splinter. 

His cum shot up into you in hot spurts, coating your walls in it while he rode out his orgasm. His hand finally left your pussy, allowing you to breathe in what felt like ages.

“Jesus,” the drawl of his voice sounded like music to your ears, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Smiling sweetly at the man beside you, you pressed your lips softly to his burning cheek. Then, you rested your head on his shoulder, allowing his arm to engulf you and pull you flush to his heaving body. You sure managed to cause Captain America to work up a sweat. 

He inspected the purple spots on your neck and looked down, eyes scanning the dark red marks on your hips that were there to stay for at least a few days. He’d learned to accept them, to love them, but he hated the idea of hurting you at first. You had to remind him each time that you were completely okay with it, that it didn’t actually hurt in a bad way. 

“I’m sorry about the diamonds,” he offered, looking at the discarded Cartier on the floor, “and the dress.” 

“Should be,” you mumbled, eyes closing at the sound of his heartbeat in your ear, “those weren’t cheap.” 

It wasn’t even your money that just went to waste. Hell, they could probably fix it up at the store, but that wasn’t a part of the game. It wasn’t good enough.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he kissed your forehead, “I told you I would.”

The next day, he did indeed buy you a new diamond necklace. And a diamond bracelet. And earrings. 

Now, all you needed was a ring to match. 

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