Fills Post #2
Mar. 7th, 2021 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theoldguardkinkmemeThis is where your fills go!
Fills can but don't need to be anonymous.
Start a new comment for each fill. Don't use threaded comments for new fills. Threaded comments are for fills that take up more than one comment field, or for feedback/squee/praise.
In your fill, please mention the prompt you are responding to, and provide a link to your prompt in the body of the text.
Please use a header with your character(s)/pairing and a title and/or keyword or short phrase. (For example: "Just you and me: Andy/Quynh, Make-up sex" or "Between a Rock and A Hard Place: Nicky/Joe/Booker, first time DP").
Please also comment with a link to your fill in the prompt post, under the prompt you are responding to. Your comment header should include the word "Fill" or "Filled", so that those checking out the thread can find your fic/art more easily (For example: "FILL: Re: Any/Quynh, Make-up sex").
If you end up cleaning up your fill and posting it elsewhere (AO3, your personal journal), feel free to link the posted fic/art here as well.
Fills can but don't need to be anonymous.
Start a new comment for each fill. Don't use threaded comments for new fills. Threaded comments are for fills that take up more than one comment field, or for feedback/squee/praise.
In your fill, please mention the prompt you are responding to, and provide a link to your prompt in the body of the text.
Please use a header with your character(s)/pairing and a title and/or keyword or short phrase. (For example: "Just you and me: Andy/Quynh, Make-up sex" or "Between a Rock and A Hard Place: Nicky/Joe/Booker, first time DP").
Please also comment with a link to your fill in the prompt post, under the prompt you are responding to. Your comment header should include the word "Fill" or "Filled", so that those checking out the thread can find your fic/art more easily (For example: "FILL: Re: Any/Quynh, Make-up sex").
If you end up cleaning up your fill and posting it elsewhere (AO3, your personal journal), feel free to link the posted fic/art here as well.
Fills on Pinboard: For a list of filled prompts on Pinboard, go here.
Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (8/?) Cont.
Date: 2020-11-20 02:20 am (UTC)Booker looks at her slowly, eyes flickering first at the door in case anyone comes barging in to interrupt their talk. It happened three times, ever since they found a language both knew but that wouldn't be too easy to eavesdrop. Booker did his best to explain cameras and microphones, but there were limits to the dead language Andromache had taught him more than a century ago in a fit of boredom, and which currently only about the five of them spoke. Quỳnh didn't mind. She got the gist of what he meant.
"What do you mean?"
"That they haven't even figured out you have been pregnant recently enough you're still nursing," Quỳnh says, watching as Booker flinches. "How long has it been? I can smell it in you, but you haven't filled enough to drip, so six months? Eight?"
"Three," he whispers, hand drifting to his lower belly. He catches her question before she asks it. "She's… she's not with me anymore."
"Is she with your alpha?" Booker stares at her wide-eyed, and Quỳnh frowns. "What? We have nothing to do until the change of shifts, might as well talk about what I missed."
"I don't have an alpha."
Quỳnh snorts. "Of course you do. Sure, it's not a full bond, but it's halfway there." She looks him over, all color fleeing his face. "You said it yourself, the things they were giving you were supposed to induce your heat, but weren't working for some reason. The reason is you have an incomplete bond, and you won't go into heat unless your alpha is present."
"Putain de merde…"
"Why did you think they didn't try it on me?" she asked, getting ready to pounce on the person who would come through the door at any moment. "My bond is perceptible to anyone, it would've been useless."
"I was thinking along the lines that nothing they gave you managed to keep you down for longer than a handful of heartbeats." Quỳnh grins, and the door opens. Their escape plan is in motion.
The man fights like a raging bull, muscling through doors and guards by brute force; when his lack of precision fails, he makes it up with improvisation, and sheer strength. It’s effective, Quỳnh can’t deny him that, but she also sees the gaps left by his inexperience, his youth—even if his body looks older than hers, he’s still a child at this game—and the absence of a firmer hand steering him through the movements, to hone his skills into perfect sharpness. She can see a little of Andromache in a feint, Yusuf and Nicolò in a roll, and yet most of it seems to be only Sebastièn himself.
A fight is a fight, and Quỳnh has seen enough of the world already that even the obvious changes have little power to bother her. A weapon is a weapon, she thinks, pressing the trigger in her gun and watching another man fall down with a spray of blood, and all men still bleed the same. It’s easy to fall into step with Booker when he’s all she’s seen for so long.
“Ferma!”
Nicolò’s voice means Yusuf isn’t far behind, and she sees them, wide-eyed and alert, as Booker sags in relief a few steps ahead of her after a bend in the corridor. They quickly take stock of the situation, of their bare feet trailing their own blood through glass shards, and other’s blood staining their flimsy clothes. Her heart swells at the sight of them, still unchanged, still the same.
“Andy and Nile went up to destroy their databases,” Yusuf says, beckoning them to follow Nicolò. Quỳnh sees Booker try to take the rear, a little further behind, just to be promptly pushed back to the middle by Yusuf. “And get the doctor, so she can’t try this shit again.”
“What about cloud stored info?” Booker asks.
“Copley is taking care of that,” Nicolò answers, “Our part was just the physical data and rescue. We have some five minutes before it all blows up.”
So little of what they say makes sense that tuning them out isn’t an issue, and Quỳnh lets herself be lulled by the rhythm of fighting and moving in group as one. When her Andromache joins them, followed closely by the new one, Quỳnh almost forgets where she is, and that there’s people after their blood; how could any of it matters when she can finally feel her beloved’s skin under her hands, the smell of her in the middle of a fight? None of that should matter, if only a scratch along Andromache’s cheek weren’t still sluggishly bleeding, when it should have closed as fast as it opened. As it were, she lets the new one urge them ahead, and in doing so she catches the look she shares with Booker over Andromache’s shoulder. She would know what it meant even without the dreams to tell her, even without the longing she heard in Sebastièn’s voice.
There’s a crack, loud and deep as thunder, and she feels the building shudder. They move through more stairs than she ever saw at once, down and down without stopping, even though there are many attempts at stopping them. Quỳnh finds herself shielding Andromache to mirror the others, vowing to herself that she won’t lose her right not, not when she just got her back. The new one, Nile—Booker’s alpha, whether he realises it or not—takes the lead as naturally as breathing, though she does stop once to berate Andromache back into shelter. Nicolò’s little smile makes it seem like an usual debate.
Andromache and Nile usher them into the back of a… transport, she guesses, while Nicolò and Yusuf take the front. Booker sags down to the floor even before it starts moving, rumbling loudly and madly out of their prison, leaving Andromache to step over the sprawl of his long legs, but not without tousling his hair gently.
“Hello, love,” Quỳnh says once the silence stretches on too long after Andromache crouches down in front of her. The hands cupping her cheeks, the back of her neck, are still the same. The smell of her lover after a fight was still the same. The tears on her cheeks are not just her own, and there are no more words between them while they make their escape.
Quỳnh loses track of time as they speed away, lulled to comfort by Andromache’s touch. It’s only when a sharp turn jolts them violently that she looks at the two other occupants of the strange carriage’s back. There’s a stiffness around them, with Booker still slumped on the floor and Nile standing as still as she can with a hand firmly clenched around a rail, the hurt drifting out of her in palpable waves, but the longing… They were evenly matched on that.
“Nile…” Quỳnh hears Booker whisper, a bitten off plea.
Nile’s jaw jumps, eyes shining, and she holds out for a second, two. She folds down like a puppet with its strings cut.
“You stupid, emotionally constipated asshole, you—”
Booker chuckles wetly against her forehead, cradling her in his lap. His hands hesitate up until she buries her face on the crook of his neck, sniffling; he hugs her tightly to his chest, muttering choked off apologies for something Quỳnh knows not. In the end, she doesn’t think it matters much.
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We're very, very close! I think we have one part story and... three epilogues, of sorts... It's a bit dumb, three epilogues, but it's what they are, so?
Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (8/?) Cont.
Date: 2020-11-20 03:59 am (UTC)I am also 100% here for three epilogues.
Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (8/?) Cont.
Date: 2020-11-20 07:42 am (UTC)Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (8/?) Cont.
Date: 2020-11-20 08:07 pm (UTC)Re: Booker/Nile, A/B/O, exile pregnancy (8/?) Cont.
Date: 2020-11-20 10:10 pm (UTC)