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mythicamagic · 3 years ago

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Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome.

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #werewolf smut #monster boyfriend

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strawberry--bride · 3 years ago

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DIABOLIK LOVERS Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sharon’s Route [PROLOGUE]

Monologue

The most painful thing in this world,

is losing your home. Your place-to-be.

No matter how dire the situation,

if you are surrounded by people who love and care for you.

No obstacle is invincible.

Then ーー Where do I belong?

Having long lost the place I once considered home.

I spent many years in a place which would provide for me.

I had food, a roof above my head, a warm bed to sleep in at night.

But could I truly call this my home?

Those doubts would lurk in the back of my mind, keeping me up at night.

Until one day, I was made a special offer.

If I complied, I would be given the thing my heart longs for the most.

ーー A new home.

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Outside

Sharon: This is the place, right...?

( Woah...Amazing. I’ve never seen a house quite this big. They even have a garden! )

*Knock knock*

Sharon: Excuse meー! My name’s Sharon. I’m supposed to move in here today!

...

( No response...? How strange. They should have been informed through the Church. )

*Knock knock*

Sharon: Hello...? Anybody home...!?

Sharon: ( What to do...? There doesn’t seem to be anyone home right now. It’s already getting dark. I can’t just stand here all night either. )

*Creaaaaak*

Sharon: ...Huh? Did the...door just open by itself?

( Does that mean I can go inside? I feel a little hesitant just entering someone else’s home butーー I was told I could live here so it should be fine, right? )

She enters the manor.

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Entrance Hall

Sharon: Just as I thought, the inside is equally spacious. I can’t imagine just one person living in such a large house all by themselves. Cleaning must take quite some time as well.

She puts down her suitcase.

*Thud*

Sharon: Phew...

( ...It’s so quiet. Almost as if the house is deserted. I wonder if the owner is out at the moment? In that case, I should probably wait in the living room. )

Sharon looks around.

Sharon: I guess it’s...that way?

*Rustle*

Sharon: ...!!

( I...Did I just...step on something? It felt...strangely soft and... )

???: ーー Oi.

Sharon: ...Kyah!

Sharon: ( A person...!? Oh my gosh. I just arrived here and the first thing I do is step on someone! )

???: ...

Sharon: I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t think there would be someone lying on the floor and...!

( ...Speaking of which, what were they doing down there anyway!? ...Sleeping? No way, right? When you have a house this large, you definitely don’t need to use the floor as a bed... )

???: Haah...

Sharon: Oh no! Are you feeling ill, perhaps? In that case, I shall call a doctor right away!

???: ...You’re loud. How am I supposed to enjoy my Rachmaninov when you’re screaming the place down?

Sharon: Rach...mani...? ...E-Either way, if you’re not feeling sick, then what were you doing on the floor?

???: Wasting his time away listening to music rather than making himself useful, per usual, I would assume. Well, I suppose it is best not to have any expectations of this man in the first place, as he will only let you down in the end.

Sharon: ...!?

( A voice...? Out of nowhere...!? )

Sharon: ...Wah!!

( Where did he come from...? )

???: Now, who might you be?

Sharon: Ah...I’m sorry! My name’s Sharon. I’m an orphan at the Catholic orphanage downtown. I was told by our related Church that the resident of this manor has been so kind to take me in. Are you...perhaps the owner?

???: ...I see. It seems you are the next...sacrifice.

Sharon: Excuse me?

???: Nothing. I was simply talking to myself. ...Ahem. My name is Sakamaki Reiji. The second eldest son of this family and one of the residents here. ...The man you had the ‘honor’ of meeting earlier is Shuu. While you may not suspect so given his deplorable behavior, he is - quite unfortunately - my elder brother.

Sharon: Reiji-san...and Shuu-san, was it? It’s a pleasure meeting you both!

Shuu: ...

Reiji: I assume that is your luggage over there? A room has been prepared for you. We will have one of our servants bring everything upstairs.

Sharon: Thank you very much!

( Thank god...So there wasn’t any mistake after all. )

Sharon: Oh! Right! I actually brought a little gift with me! They’re homemade muffins I made this morーー

*CRASH*

Sharon: ーー ning...!?

Startled by the loud noise, she drops the box with muffins.

*Thud*

???: YOU FUCKIN’ BASTARD!! I swear once I get my hands on youーー!

???: Ahaha! I can’t believe you actually fell for that one! Lame-o!

Reiji: ...

Shuu: Haah...

Sharon: ( H-Hold on, hold on, hold on! Eh? Eeeeh!? I’m not dreaming, right!? That person just punched a hole through the wall!? )

Reiji: Ahem. ...Allow me to introduce. The one who destroyed the wall is the youngest son, Sakamaki Subaru. Next to him is Sakamaki Ayato, the eldest of the triplets.

ーー You two, explain this situation at once!

Ayato: ...Che. Reiji. I didn’t do anythin’! Not my fault that Subaru ate those prank chocolates I left out on the kitchen counter.

Subaru: Fuck off! You definitely did that on purpose! ...I can still feel my mouth burnin’...!!

Sharon: ( ...Prank chocolates? I guess he means those filled with mustard and other spicy condiments, right? I didn’t know people actually bought those. )

Ayato: Of course! I was hopin’ to catch Kanato. Can you imagine what kinda face he would make when poppin’ one of those bad boys in his mouth?

???: ...Say, did you hear that, Teddy? ...I hope Ayato sleeps with one eye open tonight. He might just run into...unfortunate accident.

Sharon: ...Eh!?

( Another person just appeared out of thin air!? )

Ayato: Keh. The lunatic’s here.

Reiji: Sakamaki Kanato, the middle triplet.

...Kanato, If you wish to commit a homicide, please do so outside of the walls of this manor. It takes forever to remove blood stains from the carpet.

Kanato: I don’t recall having to take orders from you.

ーー However, you’re lucky as I happen to be in a good mood right now. I believe I heard someone mention muffins?

Sharon: ...Ah, yes! I made these myse...Huh? ...Oh.

Shuu: It’s not blood, but I think the carpet will need some cleaning regardless.

Reiji: Good grief...

Sharon: Oh no...! The box must have slipped from my fingertips when I heard the sudden crash and...

Ayato: Ah-ahー Look what you did, Subaru. It’s always the youngest child causin’ trouble.

Subaru: HAAH!? All of this started ‘cause you left those stupid chocolates out!

Sharon: ...They turned out really good too. What a shame.

Subaru: ...!! ...O-Oi...You...Um...My bad.

Kanato: ...Unforgivable.

Sharon: Eh?

Kanato: ...HOW WILL YOU MAKE THIS UP TO ME!?

Sharon: ( W-Why is he getting upset at me all of a sudden!? It was obviously just an accident!? )

Um...I’m not sure...I could make some new ones later?

???: There, there, Kanato-kun~ Relax! Even if the muffins were wasted, there’s a delicious snack just waiting to be devoured...

*Rustle*

Sharon: ...!

( Someone wrapped their arms around me from behind!? )

???: ...Right here~ ...Nfu~

Sharon: ...Eh!?

( I-Is he talking about me!? )

Reiji: ...And finally, the youngest triplet, Sakamaki Laito.

Ayato: Oi, Laito! No way you’re gettin’ the first taste again! I still haven’t forgotten last time!

Laito: Eeeh~? It’s not my fault you’re so slow, Ayato-kun~ However, if you’re so insistent on taking a bite out of her, I wouldn’t mind sharing, you know? I’m sure it’d make for a refreshing and thrilling experience~

Ayato: Geh! In your dreams, you perv!

Sharon: ( Taste? Bite...? Why are they talking as if I’m their food!? )

Excusーー

Shuu: ...Strawberries.

Sharon: Eh?

Kanato: What are you talking about? I don’t see any strawberries around.

Reiji: Shuu. Explain yourself.

Shuu: Your panties. They had strawberries on them.

Sharon: ...!!

( When did he...!? Ah! When I stepped on him...! )

Ayato: Pfftー!! Strawberries! How old are you, five? That’s hella lame!

Laito: Hm...~ Strawberries are not bad but with such a lovely body, I’m sure you could pull off something a little more erotic~

Subaru: ...

Laito: Oh, my bad~ I forgot baby bro was in the room. I suppose talking about a woman’s underwear is still a little too much for him to handle.

Subaru: S-Shut up...!!

Reiji: ...Enough! No more on this topic! ...Haah. Is it really that much to ask for you lot to behave? Just for one day?

Ayato: ーー Anyway, Reiji. Who’s this chick anyway? Tonight’s dinner?

Sharon: D-Dinner...!? I’m sorry but...Why are you all talking as if I’m food or something!?

Ayato: Shut it! Nobody asked for your opinion, Ichigo Pantsu.

Sharon: I-Ichigo paーー!? I have a name...! ...It’s Sharon.

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I-chi-go Pa-n-tsu.

Laito: Hm~ This Bitch-chan does smell sweet just like strawberries. Perhaps I should call you ‘Ichigo-chan’ instead~?

Kanato: She really does. I’m sure her blood would taste just as sweet...Oh? What’s that, Teddy? You’d like to have a taste? Fufu...Good idea. I was just feeling a little peckish myself.

Reiji: Haah...I shall be in my study room. ...Ayato, Kanato, Laito. Please treat our new resident with some respect. It would be a shame to lose another one so soon.

Sharon: ...Wait, please! I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp the situation yet!

Reiji: Haah...Good grief. You must not be very smart, are you? Did you truly believe you would be allowed to stay here for free?

Sharon: ...Eh?

Laito: Nfu~ He’s right, Ichigo-chan. Everything in this world comes at a price. In your case...That would be the delicious blood pumping through your veins...

Sharon: M-My blood...?

Ayato: Heh. You seriously haven’t realized?

Kanato: Teddy...Humans are truly so foolish, aren’t they?

Subaru: Che...Stop beatin’ ‘round the bush already and just tell her.

Shuu: We are Vampires. So the only thing a human such as yourself would have to offer, is your blood.

Reiji: In return, you will be allowed to stay here in this manor. Food, clothes and all other daily necessities willl be provided as well.

Sharon: Vam...pires? That must be some sort of joke, right? It was the Church who arranged this place for me! They would neverーー!

Besides...Vampires only exist in fairytales!

Reiji: Good grief. This is why I simply cannot deal with humans. Not only are they incredibly foolish, they are horribly naive and trusting as well.

Subaru: In other words, you were set up. Just deal with it.

Sharon: ...

( No way, right...? This has to be some sort of mistake? Or a bad dream...? )

Shuu: Pwaah...Anyway, you guys do as you please. I’m going to my room to nap.

Subaru: I’m leaving too.

Reiji: Well then, if you’d excuse me now.

The three of them leave.

Sharon: ...

Laito: Oh dear~? Is that despair I see in your eyes? You poor little thing! Don’t worry, Laito-kun wil make sure to comfort you. After all, there is no better cure for betrayal than pleasure.

Ayato: Don’t be so down, Ichigo Pantsu! It’s not that bad of a deal! You get to offer your blood to Yours Truly after all!

Kanato: Fufu...I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. If you’re lucky, you might even make it into my precious collection one day~

Sharon: ...!!

She suddenly pushes them away.

*THUD*

Ayato: ...Woah!?

Laito: ...Aah~ Not bad, Ichigo-chan! I like myself a feisty girl at times!

Kanato: Ugh! ...What are you doing!? I nearly dropped Teddy just now.

Sharon: ...

She runs upstairs.

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Hallway

Sharon: Haah, haah, haah...

( Say, God...? )

( Is this my penalty...? )

( Are you punishing me for my crimes of the past...? )

Monologue

I just kept on running and running.

As said question repeated itself inside my head.

That must be it.

Those guys were exactly right.

Humans are foolish. I was foolish.

Foolish to believe I would be given a new home.

After all, people like me.

ーー They don’t deserve a happy ending.

ーー PROLOGUE: END ーー

[ Dark Prologue ] ->

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #sharon's route #(( aaaah it's starting !! ))#(( feedback is welcome and encouraged <33 ))#(( this general prologue focuses on her arrival at the S manor and her first meeting with the boys ))#(( dark prologue will touch upon her backstory a little and her first time attending the academy ))#(( then the other dark scenarios will develop her relationship with all 6 brothers through different scenarios ))#(( if there's a specific idea you have for a fun scenario idea ))#(( please let me know!! ))

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

You Can Run [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: You Can Run [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: For request “Could you maybe do something with Sesshomaru? Maybe his ‘darling’ trying to escape not knowing that it would literally be impossible?”

Word count: 1700ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping

Planning an escape when you are constantly being watched, constantly surrounded, is not the easiest of tasks. You know this, because you have been planning an escape from the demon lord Sesshoumaru for many days now. It wasn’t an easy decision. He once threatened to kill you if you ever tried to leave, and you don’t know if he means it--but he doesn’t seem the type to make idle threats, imposing and stoic as he is, which is all the more why your plans simply cannot fail.

You have to leave. You have to get home to your family. You have to regain your freedom and your normal life. And since he has no intention of letting you go, escape is the only way you can take back control of your fate.

So you planned, and planned, and bit by bit prepared yourself to leave. Every few days, you snuck a provision or two into a bag you’ve tucked into your clothing--nothing big, nothing Rin or Jaken or (if he deigned to deal with those everyday tasks, which he doesn’t) Sesshoumaru would ever notice. Dried meat here, a fire stone there, extra cloth, a needle for repairs. Little things, but important, if you were ever to make it home in one piece.

Of course, you’re no hardy traveler, no world-weary merchant or soldier who is used to life on the road, but the seemingly endless days and nights you’ve spent captive in his presence have hardened you a bit. Your feet are used to walking (and walking, and walking); you know how to make a fire more readily than you ever did in your village, where your parents or elder brother were only too happy to step in when you fumbled with the tools; and you’ve learned to be more aware of sounds in the forest, how to find clean water, where to fish and how to keep yourself warm when the darkness brings chilly air.

I can do this, you think, every time you feel your mind begin to falter. Every time you catch him staring at you, as if he can read your thoughts, as if he knows what you’re planning and he’s waiting for you to take that first step away from camp to grab you and snap your neck or worse.

I can do this, every time you take advantage of Jaken’s distraction to grab something you’ll need. The knife was your biggest feat, the last thing on your mental list; and you swear you can feel it burning against your skin, a warning that it was too risky and he’ll notice and you’ll be caught and--no, no, no, you think.

I can do this.

Your heart is hammering so violently that you’re briefly afraid that it will wake someone up. It won’t, you know--but that doesn’t make your nerves any less shaky or make you feel any safer. Your eyes do another sweep of the campsite as you slip off your footwear and tuck them into your bag, now full and slung over your shoulder.

Rin is sleeping peacefully, and your heart felt a pang of guilt when you’d slowly removed her arm from around your stomach--cuddled close, as she’d started doing recently. You do care for her, poor thing that she is, but you have to care for your freedom more. Jaken is sleeping… well, like Jaken--snoring and occasionally mumbling and clawing at the air. But the biggest obstacle to your potential escape is what worries you the most: Sesshoumaru. He’s leaning against the nearby tree, eyes closed, body passive and prone. Is he sleeping? Resting? The thoughts come in rapid flickers, terrified bursts that tempt you to lay your head back down and forget you ever began plotting to run.

But the temptation is overcome by the slow, dreaded visions of the future. Were you to be his unwilling travel companion forever? He would never say why, exactly, he’d taken you--would never tell you what he was going to do with you or when (if ever, if never) this would reach an end.

So you took the chance. And took a wary step. No movement from the demon lord. You took another step. Still, nothing--no, a breath, an easy one, careless. He must be sleeping. He must be sleeping. You take another step and another until you’re away from the flickering fire and instead in the woods, dark and loud with the sound of insects and animals. You slip on your shoes to protect your feet and pull out the pilfered knife, just in case. The moon above is round and glorious and you silently thank it for lighting your way. You needed to be able to see, to get as far away as possible, particularly during the first few nights of your barely-tangible freedom.

It’s thrilling. It’s terrifying. You could die out here, well before you make it home. You’re well-aware, now more than ever, of the potential dangers in the forest--of the potential dangers in the world. Yet you can’t help but think, as you push aside brush and ignore the itching of insect bites, would it not be better to be killed by a wolf or drown crossing a river than to be forced under the will of a demon lord?

You forge ahead, each step filling you with a shaky confidence. You’d done it. You’d gotten away. When the moon disappears and the sky turns its beautiful colorful shades to prepare for the rising sun, you feel something akin to happiness wash over you. Surely you’d gotten far enough that they couldn’t catch up right away, surely so--and you decide to take a rest in a natural clearing.

You sit against a rock and finally pay attention to the rumbling of your stomach. You had barely eaten the night before, too nervous to keep anything down. You don’t want to start a fire--you’re not that far away, you remind yourself--so you pull out a piece of cold, dried meat and take a bite. Maybe you can find a river soon to quench your thirst. Maybe you’ll even be able to catch a fish or two, though cooking them would have to wait.

And then, a branch snaps. Hard. You tense. A wolf? A bear? Your hands slowly reach for the knife you’d set on the ground. Could you fight off an animal with such a small weapon? Or would your theory about it being better to die at the hands of an animal be haunting you so quickly?

No, no, no. Your vision begins to blur in panic as the familiar visage of Sesshoumaru steps out of the trees. White--and red. And angry.

You manage to stand, legs quaking, the knife falling from hands that you can’t control, and you turn to run when you see that the white of his eyes have become a terrible blood-red. He’s going to kill you. The thought rushes through you--Is it better to die by the hands of the demon lord than to be his unwilling captive?

Your body moves of its own accord but it doesn’t matter, because you don’t take but a half-step when you feel him harshly yank you backwards by your hair. You tumble to the ground with a cry and he swoops down, pinning you to the forest floor with his claws.

His breath is hot and he practically spits as the words tear out of his throat, low and violent: “What did you think you were doing, human?”

His eyes are even more horrible up close, and your mind tries to think of chants, of prayers. His claws tighten at your wrists and you know you have to say something, though nothing will spare you from the death that you know is coming. Your body is trembling so wildly that your teeth knock together when you answer.

“I was going home. I was getting away from you. You--you can’t keep me.” You’re going to die, so you may as well be honest. At least you’ll die with a pure mind.

“Of course I can,” he hisses. “I will keep you, and you will listen, and you will stop being such a damned annoyance.” And just like that, his tirade over, his red eyes fade, returning to their impassive coolness. The air feels less heavy and you can breathe. But he doesn’t let you up right away, and stays uncomfortably close to you as you lay prone on the ground.

“The sooner you stop being foolish, the better.”

You don’t know what to say. He gets up, then, and stares down at you.

“Get up. We’re going back. I will think of a punishment later.”

He’s not going to kill you. You don’t know why. He’s going to keep you. And you don’t know why.

The will to live overpowers anything else, though, and your force your shaky body to get up off the ground. You glance at your bag, at the knife you’d dropped earlier, and Sesshoumaru merely stares as you gather up your supplies. Waste not, want not, you suppose.

He begins walking away from the clearing, back into the forest, and you have no choice but to follow. Your newfound freedom is already gone. You feel deflated. You feel more helpless than ever. What went wrong? Was he awake when you ran? Did you leave tracks, unknowingly, perhaps with your shoes? You have to know.

"Lord Sesshoumaru?”

He doesn’t answer, and you stare at the back of his head as he walks with an ease through the forest you’d taken much longer to navigate.

“How did you find me so quickly?”

He stops for a moment, just a second, before continuing on.

“I tracked your scent,” he says, without bothering to look back. “ I marked you a long time ago. I’ll always find you, no matter where you go. Remember that, human. ”

Ah, you think.

I can’t run.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x reader #afterwitch writes

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heliads · 4 years ago

Text

The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

masterlist

Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter’s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her.

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mycosmicparadise

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot

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morosemagick · 4 years ago

Text

Warriors of Menace | Finan x Reader One Shot

My entry for Rosie's 100 Follower Challange!!

Prompt: “You are very well behaved today. What have you done?”

Warning: Absolutely none, just a shit ton of fluff lol

Words: 2121

Tagged:

@solinarimoon @emilyhufflepufftlk @for-bebbanburg @evelynshelby @lauwrite1225 @obipoelover @magravenwrites

Life is much different for you now than it was five years ago. Long gone are the days where there was a shyness about you, and your nerves rattled at the idea of forming friendships of this ragtag band of warriors. Time has been good to you, and after years of being a part of this little, mix-matched family founded by Uhtred of Bebbanburg, it’s safe to say you knew these men well. You understand all of their quirks and knew all the signs of how they behaved. The good days and the bad days were easy to recognize, and when mood swings would accord or the occasional argument between them would happen you’d know just how to put out the fire.

It’s this ability to understand these misunderstood warriors that brought you close to Finan, and in what felt like a blink of an eye… you were his wife.

And he was an excellent husband.

You understood him the most. Finan could not hide his moods from you. Happiness, frustration, anger. You knew the calling card for all of his moods, and he knew all of yours. When you first realized he had feelings for you, you could pinpoint all the little things he would try to do to get you to realize he loved you. It was heartwarmingly adorable and you didn’t let him go long without telling him you felt the same. Since your marriage, you have been a unit in sync. There is nothing Finan can hide from you after almost four years of marriage.

Including when he’s being an absolute menace.

You're in your kitchen making lunch, a large pot of stew over the fire because part of you already expects to feed more than just your family. It’s what you do at this point. You may have married Finan, but you feel like you married the whole crew of warriors with the way you care for them. The food is just about done when, just as expected, Finan comes bursting through the front door with Sihtric in tow.

By the way they come in giggling like children, you know they’re up to no good.

“I know you are not tracking dirt through my home, Finan,” You tell him as you stir your wooden spoon through the pot, and you can hear your husband coming up from behind you.

He kisses the side of your head, “I would never, darlin’,” Finan snickers, placing a hand on your rather round belly, “And how is the wee man today?”

“You are going to regret calling her that when she reveals herself as a daughter,” You smirk as you glance his way and he gives you another kiss, “Speaking of wee men, where is Aethelstan?”

“With Osferth and Eadith,” Sihtric explains as he sits at your table, and you can hear Finan walk around your home. When you glance back, he’s making the table for four.

“And what is he doing with Osferth and Eadith?” You ask as you fully turn around to look at both men, only to find them poorly failing at hiding their smiles, “Finan?”

“Yes, my love?” He asks as he returns to your side, and by his smile you know he's up to no good.

"Where is that boy of yours, and do not lie to me," You tell him with a raised brow and arms crossed so he knows you mean business.

You call Aethelstan just his when the two of them are on your nerves, but the boy is yours. Even though, technically, he is not.

"He's doing us a favor, Y/N, he will be home shortly," Sihtric tells you, trying to save Finan from whatever hole he's currently digging himself.

"Uh-huh," You smirk and now Finan is carefully trying to push you away from the food you are cooking, "What are you doing?"

"Finishin’ for you," Finan tells you with another kiss on your head, "Go sit, I'll bring the pot to the table."

You glance between the two men and head to the table anyway, sitting down next to Sihtric, "Who are you two, and what have you done with my husband and his best friend?"

"We are always this compassionate, Y/N," Finan chuckles as he brings over lunch, "Oi, go grab bread," he whistles to Sihtric and the Dane stands and does as he's told, "You shouldn't be workin' so hard when you're busy makin' us such a wonderful child."

Okay, now you know they're up to no good.

Before you can ask what they’ve done, Aethelstan all but bursts through the front door, slamming it rather hard for a child before realizing you are at the table staring at him. He smiles wide, the cheeky grin a telltale sign of trouble he picked up from Finan in the year of you raising him. He walks directly to you, like he hasn’t done a thing wrong, and places a kiss on your cheek. (Another sign he’s gotten from Finan, as well.) “Hello, Mother.”

“Go clean yourself up before lunch, you little trouble maker,” Your smirk at the boy, and Finan ruffles his hair as he runs off. The two of you aren’t really supposed to let him call you by those names, but neither of you has the heart to tell him otherwise. Besides, it’s already been a year and if he wants to call you Mother and Father that’s exactly what he’s going to call you.

Aethelstan cleans himself up and then joins you all at the table, sitting down across from Sihtric and next to Finan. The two of them move in sync as they fold their hands over together above their food, and to the side of you, Sihtric lowers his head in respect for your religion.

“Thank you, Father, for this delicious meal we are about to receive, and for this family you allowed us to grow,” Finan prays and you just stare at him with eyebrows scrunched and your lip curled into a smirk.

Because you know that getting Finan to pray before meals is usually a hassle.

“In your name, we pray,” Aethelstan continues, “Ahem.”

The three of you sign to your God and Sihtric just keeps his head down till you are done, and then the three men start to eat. You, however, just continue to stare at your husband until he finally looks at you and smiles, “What?”

“You are all very well behaved today,” You start to tell them all, and Finan just smiles wider as you lean forward and rest your chin in your hand, “What have you done?”

“You know us, Y/N, nothin’ too awful,” Finan starts to explain.

“It’s true, Y/N,” Sihtric adds as he rips himself a piece of the bread loaf, “We only do things out of love. That’s just the kind of warriors we are.”

“Aye, he’s right.” Finan agrees as he continues eating.

“Oh, I am sure,” You say in response even though you don’t believe any of them, but luckily enough for them your too hungry to push the topic further. So instead, you start to eat the lunch you’ve slaved over and enjoy this time with your family.

The meal is mostly quiet, albeit some sweet words of gratitude from the men at your table, thankful for the meal you prepared for them. You almost make it through the whole thing in peace, when a knock at your door startles the men.

“Finan? Sihtric! I know you are in there,” It’s Osferth, and he sounds rather frustrated. He knocks on the door again, a little harder, as the two men at your table start to slowly rise and head for the back room. “Open up! We need to talk, now!”

Finan and Sihtric start to sneak for the back door, shit-eating grins on both of their faces, “We were not here, Y/N, we have not been home all mornin’.” He tells you as they make their escape, leaving you there to roll your eyes and answer the door yourself.

When you open the door to greet Osferth, he looks absolutely flustered, “Osferth, how are you today?”

“Lady, I have been better,” He’s always so polite, the sweet former monk, and no matter how many times you tell him not to call you lady, he cannot seem to shake his manners, “I hate to bother you, but I need to speak with Finan and Sihtric.”

You chuckle, folding your arms across your belly, “You just missed them, but I have some stew left over from lunch if you are hungry.”

“I should be on my way, I really need to speak with them,” Osferth explains as he rubs at the back of his neck and you chuckle at the shyness he holds after years of friendship.

"Osferth, come in and tell me what my husband and Sihtric have done," You open your door wider and move to the side so he can come in, and after a second of hesitation, he sighs and complies.

Osferth walks over to the table that Aethelstan has managed to vanish from without you noticing and slumps into his seat, "I am going to kill them." He groans half-heartedly.

You laugh, grabbing him a clean bowl before joining him at the table, "What did they do?"

"Sihtric told Eadith I am interested in her, and then Finan had Aethelstan pick flowers for her saying they were from me," Osferth sighs heavily as you serve him some stew, "They've ruined everything."

"I thought you did fancy Eadith? What's the problem?" You ask him as you put the bowl of stew in front of him.

"She does not think of me in that way," He groans, looking defeated, "Now she'll think I'm a pervert who only wishes to hump her."

"Or she will think you are shy, and that Finan and Sihtric should mind their own business," You tell him as he eats through his frustration, "My husband may be a menace, but he does the stupid things he does out of love."

"She does not think of me in that way, Y/N," He tells you as he temporarily lowers his spoon, "She is beautiful… and I am just- a baby monk."

You laugh with a big smile across your face because your friend couldn't be any more wrong, "Is that really what you think? Osferth, she is clearly fallen for you."

"Do not pity me, Lady, I do not need your lies to lift my spirit," He tells, looking defeated as he finishes his stew.

"Enough of this," You tell him as you take away the dirty dishes and rise from your seat, "You will go to Eadith and confess your feelings, or I will send Aethelstan to do it for you."

"Y/N-"

"Go! Now, before the day is over," You command, shoo-ing him from your table, as he reluctantly rises, "And be sure to come back to thank me when it's over."

He groans as he walks out of your home, making you laugh as you start cleaning plates. A moment or two after he's gone, you can hear creaking coming from your bedroom, and then two big arms wrap around your body.

"Where is Sihtric?" You ask your husband, not needing to turn around to confirm it's him because you would recognize these arms anywhere.

"Gone home to his own wife," Finan tells you with a kiss, "Enjoyin' his final days before Osferth certainly murders us all."

"He will not murder anyone," You chuckle as you turn around, still in his arms, "Osferth may not have your confidence or Sihtrics' flirting skills but I am positive he will find that Eadith shares his feelings."

"How are you so sure?" Finan scrunches his brows in confusion, "And what do you know of how Sihtric flirts?"

You chuckle, standing on your toes to reach your husband's lips as you give him a kiss, "I just know things, my love, it is my gift from God."

Finan grabs you by the cheeks as you lower yourself, kissing you with much more passion, his lips still on yours as he growls, "If I find out Sihtric has tried to bed my wife-"

"It was long before you were mine," You tell him with a smirk, "No need to start anything over it now."

"That is my gift, mo ghrá," He snickers as his kisses move from your lips to your neck, "I am a Warrior of Menace, after all."

You couldn't argue with that as your warrior brings you back to bed, determined to show you just how much he was yours.

An excellent husband, indeed.

#finan x reader #finan #finan the agile #the last kingdom #tlk fanfic #tlk #tlk osferth #tlk sihtric #tlk finan #tlk aethelstan #rosies100 #mcloveproductions

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dialovers-translations · 3 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Ayato Route ー Chapter 1

Yui: ( I have to retrieve my heart no matter what…! )

ー The scene starts in the carriage

Ayato: Oh, take a look, Chichinashi! The castle has come into view!

Yui: Eh...?

*Rustle*

Ayato: Heeh...Guess it’s to be expected with the ongoing Parade, but things seem pretty fired up in the surroundin’ city as well.

Hehe. I think we’re in for a good time...!

Yui: ...Hold up!

( A good time...? I thought we were going to look for my heart...? )

Ayato: Hm? Why are you frownin’...?

Ah. I bet you think that I’ve completely forgotten ‘bout your heart, aren’t you?

Yui: Uu...

Ayato: Hmph. How could I forget? I remember it very well!

But you know, we have to gather some information on this Walter guy first.

So I see no harm in enjoyin’ the Parade a lil’ while we’re at it?

Yui: Eeh...!?

( Can we really afford to take the slow approach...? )

...

Ayato: ...Are you that worried ‘bout your heart?

Yui: ...Well...

Ayato: Oi, listen up.

I’ll ensure you get your heart back.

So don’t worry. Trust me!

Yui: ...Yeah...

( ...Right. I’m the one who chose Ayato-kun after all...So I can’t lose faith... )

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...Puttin’ that aside, guess I’m take a lil’ break before we arrive at our destination.

That bein’ said, I’m gonna borrow your lap for a bit.

*Rustle*

Yui: ...! A-Ayato-kun!?

( He laid his head down in my lap...! )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( Count Walter...I wonder why exactly he has stolen my heart...? )

( Um...I think it was called a ‘Kleinod’? )

( Apparently I’m still alive because one of those has been put inside of me to replace my heart but...Still... )

...

( ...Let’s not think about that now. Worrying myself sick won’t get us any further anyway. )

( It’s just like Ayato-kun said. I shouldn’t make myself unnecessarily anxious... )

Ayato: ...Zzー ...Zzー...

Yui: ( Fufu. Ayato-kun seems to be enjoying his nap... )

ー The carriage suddenly comes to a halt

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah...!

Ayato: Uwah!?

*THUD*

Ayato: ...Ow!!

Yui: ( ...! Ayato-kun was sent flying from the rebound...! )

A-Are you okay...!?

Ayato: T-The fuck!? I was sleepin’ so comfortably too...!

*Rustle*

Ayato: Oi, Familiar! Where did you learn to drive like that!? Cut the crap!

Familiar: M-My sincere apologies...! Someone suddenly jumped onto the road from behind the shadow of those trees...

Ayato: A person...? ...What? Who the fuck’s that bastard dressed in all black...?

Yui: ( ...A black-clad figure riding on a horse is blocking the path... )

( On top of that, he seems to be staring our way... )

Ayato: I don’t know what’s goin’ on but I don’t like this one bit...Fuck! Imma go give him a piece of my mind!

ー Ayato gets out of the carriage

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...!

Ayato: Oi, don’t come down. Sit still and wait for me inside the carriage. ...Capiche?

ー He runs off

Yui: ( There he goes... )

( I wonder if he’ll be okay by himself...? )

ー The scene shifts to the outer area around Bernstein castle

Black-clad figure: ...

Ayato: Oi! Mr. Man in Black! You sure have some nerve to get in my way!

Who the fuck are you!? Get off your horse and name yourself!

*Thud*

Black-clad figure: ...I’m the gatekeeper.

Ayato: Gate...? Hmph! Strange name you’ve got there, mate!

Gatekeeper: I have no name. Gatekeeper...In other words, the one guarding the gate of the Demon World.

It is my duty to ensure that no unwanted intruders enter the Demon World...

I simply cannot allow that tainted woman who is neither demon nor human to set foot inside.

Ayato: Aah!? Oi, say that one more time?

She’s a tainted woman!? Imma send you straight flyin’ if you speak that sorta crap again!

ー The scene shifts back to the carriage

Yui: ( ...Oh no! I have to stop him! )

ー Yui rushes out of the carriage

Yui: Ayato-kun! Calm down!

Ayato: ...! Chichinashi!? Idiot! Why did you come out!?

Yui: Because...!

( At this rate, it’d turn into a fight... )

Gatekeeper: Hmph. I knew it...Oi, woman. You are under arrest.

*Thud*

Yui: Kyah...!

Ayato: ...! Not in my book! Let her go!!

*Rustle*

Gatekeeper: ...!

Ayato: You really think I’m gonna hand her over to some creep like you!?

Let’s go, Chichinashi! Run!!

Yui: Y-Yeah...!

ー The two of them start running as the scene shifts to Glimmer Main Street

Ayato: Haah...Haah...Seems like we got away somehow.

Even if he chases after us, we should be fine amidst this large of a crowd.

Yui: Right...

( Still...I wonder if we should have ran away...? )

( What did that person mean with ‘a tainted woman who is neither demon nor human...? )

( He must have been talking about me, right...? )

( Being here might be more dangerous in my current state than I thought... )

Ayato: ...Oi, what’s wrong? Why do you look so glum?

Yui: Eh...?

Ayato: ...Listen, Chichinashi. You are mine.

I definitely won’t let someone else have you.

So you’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.

While I’m lookin’ for your heart, you can look ‘round the Parade and take it easy for a bit.

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

( Right. Ayato-kun’s with me after all...I’m sure everything will be fine. )

( I’m sure he’ll save me no matter what happens... )

Okay. I will.

Ayato: Mmh! Let’s go then.

Male Vampire A: Oi, did you see it? The poster on the plaza...

Female Vampire A: Yes. one of Karlheinz’ sons is on the wanted list, right?

Male Vampire A: Yeah, it’s Sakamaki Ayato...

Yui: ...!?

( Ayato-kun’s a wanted criminal...!? )

Ayato: Ah? What did you say ‘bout Yours Truly?

Male Vampire A: ...’Yours Truly’...? Could you be...Sakamaki...Ayato...?

Ayato: ...? I mean, yeah?

Yui: ( ...! Ayato-kun just revealed himself! I have to cover up for him!! )

Let’s go over there!

*Rustle*

Ayato: Aah? The fuck you doin’ all of a sudden...?

Yui: ( Either way, we have to get away from here...! )

ー Yui drags him away as the scene shifts to Aizen Alleyway

Ayato: ...Hmm, I see. I’m an outlaw, huh?

Well, I’m sure that ‘Gate�� guy or whatever his name was is behind it, right?

Hmph! He’s challengin’ me, huh? He’s got some balls then.

Yui: Anyway, that’s our current situation, so we should probably avoid crowded areas for now...

Ayato: ...Well, you might be right but...

...Say, Chichinashi?

Yui: Eh?

ー He pins her against the wall

*Thud*

Yui: ...Kyah!

Ayato: Aren’t you just makin’ up excuses ‘cause you want some private time with me...?

Yui: Eh...!?

Ayato: You should just be honest ‘bout it then. ...I don’t mind.

I was just ‘bout in the mood for that as well. Nn...

Yui: Nn...!

Ayato: Nn...Haah...

Yui: Haah...! Gosh, Ayato-kun! Now’s not the time for this...!

Ayato: Oh shut up. You’re the one who enticed me.

Come on, look this way. I’ll give you one more. Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ...

( ...It’s no use. I can’t push him away... )

ー Footsteps can be heard in the background

Male Vampire A: I could have sworn they went that way...

Ayato: ...!?

Yui: ( ...!! Somebody’s coming!! )

Ayato: ...Che. Seems like somethin’ got in the way. We’ll continue later. Come here!!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...Ayato-kun, wait...!

ー They run off again to an underground passage

Ayato: Fuck...That Gate guy totally ruined our plans to enjoy the Parade...

Oi, Chichinashi. We’re takin’ a break. Now!

Yui: A-A break...? Right here?

Ayato: ...Let’s see if there’s any good spots ‘round...Well, guess we can just open one of these doors at random...There!

*Thud*

Yui: ( ...! He’s opening doors without permission...! )

Ayato: Oh. Better than I expected. We can take a seat and rest here.

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...Couldn’t this be the basement of someone’s home...?

( He just invited himself in...We’ll get yelled at if they find us! )

ー The scene shifts to an underground room

Ayato: ...Heeh. Well, it’s a lil’ dusty in here, but I guess it’s more comfortable than the place we were at before...

Well thenー... Guess I’ll kick back and relax for a bit.

*Thud*

Yui: ( Ayato-kun totally made himself at home... )

Selection

→ Call him out (☾)

Yui: ( I should probably tell him... )

...Hey, Ayato-ku...

Ayato: Come on, you should sit down here with me. I’m sure you’re tired from runnin’ ‘round, right?

Yui: ( Is he looking out for me...? It’s kind of difficult to call him out now... )

→ Keep quiet

Ayato: Come on, you should join me here as well.

Yui: S-Sure...

ー Yui takes a seat next to him

Yui: ( It can’t be helped...If the resident of this house were to come down here, we can just explain the situation to them... )

( ...However, if this person has seen the wanted poster...What will we do...? )

( Perhaps we should explain the circumstances to the Gatekeeper instead, )

( and have the wanted poster taken down...? But... )

ー A flashback ensues

Ayato: ...Listen, Chichinashi. You are mine.

I definitely won’t let someone else have you.

So you’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( I truly felt happy to hear those words from Ayato-kun... )

( He got upset when the Gatekeeper called me a ‘tainted woman’ as well... )

( Despite some of his statements, I can tell he properly looks out for me... )

( I’ll stick to his plan for a while after all... )

( ...Wait, huh...? )

ー Ayato opens one of the cupboards

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! Check this out! There’s so much interestin’ stuff to find in this room!

Yui: ...Ayato-kun!?

( He went ahead and opened one of the cupboards...! )

A-Ayato-kun...! You’ll get scolded for looking through other people’s belongings...!

Ayato: Haah? Who cares? It’s not like I’m tryin’ to steal anythin’.

Anyway, look...You should join me here as weーー

*THUD*

Ayato: ...!? Uwah...!!

Yui: ( The cupboard...!! )

*CRASH*

Yui: ( O-Oh no...! It fell over...! )

Ayato: S-Shit...

ー Somebody rushes downstairs

???: ...Is someone there!?

Yui: ( ...! We’re busted! )

Ayato: ...Yeah. We let ourselves in for a bit, ‘kay?

House owner: ...! Who are you two!? What are you doing in someone else’s basement!?

Ayato: What do you mean...? Can’t you tell we’re takin’ a lil’ break here? Got a problem with that!?

House owner: Of course I do!!

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...!

We’re on the wanted list, so we have to somehow talk our way out before things escalate...!

Ayato: Che, shut up. I don’t need you tellin’ me that! ...There!

*THUD THUD*

House owner: Uwah!

Yui: ( He knocked over a different cupboard this time...! )

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! Now’s our chance! We’re gettin’ out of here!!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...! W-Wait, Ayato-kun...!

ー The scene shifts back to Aizen Alleyway

Ayato: Haah...That was close...

Yui: ...Gosh, you definitely went too far just now!

Ayato: Aah!? Fuck off!

If we just stood ‘round there twiddlin’ our thumbs, we would have both gotten arrested!

Yui: ...Even so...!

Ayato: Anyway, we can’t return to the underground now...

...Guess we have no other choice. Okay, this way. Let’s go.

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...But that’ll take us back to the plaza from earlier, no...? )

Ayato-kun, wait...! Where are you...?

Ayato: I’ve got an idea. ...Lend me your ear for a sec.

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: There should be a dress shop right across the plaza. We’re gonna get ourselves some costumes there.

Yui: Costumes...?

Ayato: There’s plenty of people walkin’ ‘round dressed up as part of the Parade.

If we mix in with them, we’ll be able to proceed without gettin’ our cover blown, right?

Yui: ...I see! Way to go, Ayato-kun...!

Ayato: Heh! How’s that? Let me tell you, try and keep your head high.

Bein’ all sneaky and trying to keep low will only make you stand out more in these kinds of situations.

Yui: ...Yeah, gotcha!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the dress shop

Ayato: ...Phew. We made it to the store somehow.

Yui: ( Thank god... )

( I’m sure it’s because my heart is missing that nobody took notice of me, unlike the previous times I’ve been here...Right? )

( ...However, we can’t rest assured just yet. We have to make sure the employees don’t recognize us... )

Dress shop owner: Are you looking for something?

Ayato: Yeah! We want costumes for the Parade. For me...and for her as well.

Dress shop owner: Understood! In that case, I would highly recommend these outfits which came in just earlier today!

Ayato: Oh! Show us then!

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun’s acting completely normal... )

( I guess nobody would suspect we’re wanted outlaws like this... )

Ayato: Hm...There’s quite the collection. Oi, Chichinashi. Which one do you want?

Yui: ...Hm, let’s see...

( If we want to conceal our faces, a mask might be good... )

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: ...Hey, look at this one.

Yui: Eh?

*Rustle*

Ayato: You over there! Stop fooling around and make your choice already! Your sense of danger is severely lacking!

Yui: ...!

Ayato: ...What do you think of these nose glasses? All I gotta do is part my hair differently (1) to complete the look!

Yui: ...Ayato-kun...Just now were you trying to...?

( Imitate...Reiji-san...? )

Ayato: Hehe. Whatcha think? I sounded just like him, no?

Yui: ...Pfft....

Ayato: Ah! Why are you laughin’ your ass off!?

Yui: I-I mean...!

Ayato: ...You finally smiled.

Yui: Eh...?

Ayato: You’ve had a frown on your face ever since we came here.

Don’t blame me if it gives you wrinkles. (2)

Yui: ( Ayato-kun...He was trying to make me laugh on purpose... )

*TIMESKIP*

Ayato: ...’Kay, guess this will have to do for now...

Yui: ( We got masks and costumes for the both of us...I guess we’ll be okay now. )

( We kind of got caught up in the flow and spent quite some time inside the store. )

ー They leave the dress shop

Yui: ( Ah...! We accidentally walked out without our disguises. We have to get changed somewhere... )

Female Vampire A: ...Ah, hey...Aren’t they...?

Male Vampire A: ...I’m positive! It’s those two from earlier...! Seize them!

Yui: ( T-Those people from earlier...! T-This is bad...!! )

Ayato: Oi, we’re makin’ a run for it, Chichinashi! Come here!!

Yui: Y-Yeah!

ー They run towards the wagon area

Male Vampire A: They went that way!

Yui: ( They’ll catch us at this rate! )

Ayato: Fuck! No way I’m lettin’ myself get caught so easily!

Female Vampire A: They went that way!

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! We’re takin’ a shortcut! This way!

Yui: Eh!?

Crepe vendor: Crepes! Who’s in the mood for a fresh crepe?

Ayato: Get out of the way!

*THUD*

*CRASH*

Crepe vendor: Uwaah! My stall!

Yui: ( H-How terrible...! )

Ayato-kun, you can’t do such a thing...!

Ayato: Whatever, just follow me! Do you want to get caught!?

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah...!

( Even if he says that, this is messed up!! )

ー The two of them flee to Aizen Alleyway

Ayato: Haah...Haah...Che, a dead end...

It can’t be helped...I’ll just jump up in the air the...Uwah!?

*Flip*

Ayato: The fuck!? ...Wait, this is...

Yui: ...! Could this be...

( It’s our...wanted notice, right? But...these portraits... )

( ...They look nothing like us...actually... )

Ayato: ...Hahaha....Ahahaha!

What’s this? Who made these sloppy drawings?

Yui: ...But in this case, we probably wouldn’t have gotten recognized even without dressing up...

Ayato: Well, you do have a point...

ー Somebody walks up to them

???: ...I have finally found you two. No more of this useless game of tag.

Ayato: ...! You’re...!

Yui: ( The Gatekeeper... )

Ayato: ...Chichinashi! Grab hold of me! We’re takin’ off!

Yui: ...Ayato-kun, let’s not...

Ayato: Ah? The fuck you sayin’!?

Yui: Even if we do that, it’ll just bring us back to square one...

Let’s go with this person and explain the situation to them?

Ayato: Haah!? What are you sayin’!? Why should we let ourselves get arrested when we’ve done nothin’ wrong!?

Yui: ...Exactly. We have to start by explaining why we came here and clear our names.

Ayato: ...Why should we...!?

Gatekeeper: Hmph. For being a tainted woman, you seem rather reasonable.

Ayato: Tsk...Try sayin’ that one more time, you punk! I’ll send you flyin’!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ayato-kun! It’s fine! Just calm down, okay?

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: How can I stay calm!? That bastard talked shit ‘bout you bein’ tainted again...!

Yui: Please! Listen to me right now...!!

Ayato: ...Fuck!

Yui: ( Ayato-kun...I’m sorry... )

Gatekeeper: So? Have you made your decision? Well, you only ever had one choice from the very beginning.

Yui: ...We will come with you.

Gatekeeper: ...Very well. Come with me then. I have a carriage waiting for us on the main street.

Yui: ...Yes.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ...Let’s go, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: ...

ー They get in the carriage

Monologue

And so,

we were taken suspect,

by the Gatekeeper.

The place we were taken to by the carriage,

was Bernstein castle.

The home of Count Walter,

and the exact same location we were headed ourselves...

It turned out that the Gatekeeper,

had been looking for us,

upon Count Walter’s direct order.

ー The scene shifts to the throne room in Bernstein castle

Ayato: Che. Tell us that right from the beginning next time!

That Gate-something is actually one of Walter’s underlings!

???: ...Well, well, my sincere apologies.

Ayato: ...! Walter!

Yui: ( ...! This man is Count Walter...! )

Count Walter: So you are Ayato, son of the world-famous Karlheinz?

Ayato: Hmph! You bet! Altho I don’t give a damn ‘bout the Old Man.

Count Walter: Please, don’t say that. And you must be...

...I see...You are, huh? ...Fufu...

Ayato: Aah? The fuck’s your problem...? Stop ogling her!

Count Walter: Fufu, don’t get so upset. Well then, let us use this opportunity to have a nice, leisurely chat. Take a seat.

Ayato: Oi...I didn’t come here for no chit-chat.

Give her heart back. Right now!

Yui: ...Ayato-kun...!

Ayato: I mean, I’m not wrong, am I!? All of this happened ‘cause this freak stole your heart...!

Count Walter: ...I see. Ayato, it appears to me that you have quite the temper.

I have actually been testing you two.

Yui: Us...?

Count Walter: Yes. Ever since I sent that card your way, I have been keeping a close eye on you from here the whole time.

To see if you, and your partner Ayato...

...are suitable candidates to possess a precious treasure of which only one exists in this world.

Ayato: A precious...treasure...?

Yui: Could that be...?

( Is he talking about my stolen heart...? )

Count Walter: Hence why I chose not to reveal my ties with the Gatekeeper in an attempt to observe how you would deal with him.

However, unfortunately, it seems like you two are simply not suited for this treasure.

Yui: ...No way!

Ayato: What do you mean!?

Count Walter: I am sure you will agree with me if you take a second to think back to everything you have done these past couple of hours?

Ayato: Fuck off! Why do we have to get told all this shit by a frickin’ thief, huh!?

Stop spoutin’ this nonsense and hand back her heart!

*THUD*

Count Walter: ...That just cost you another five points.

Ayato: Haah? The fuck are these points...!?

Count Walter: While we may know each other’s names, this is our first time meeting in person. On top of that, I am your senior by many years...

Yet you choose to behave in such an outrageous way, which can only result in a bad score, no?

I cannot see someone like that as a fit candidate for this treasure...

Ayato: Aah!? You’re in no position to tell me that!

Yui: ...! Ayato-kun!!

Count Walter: Haah...There goes another five points. This is just sad.

As I thought, I don’t think I will be returning this treasure any time soon. Give up and go home. Gatekeeper! Show our guests the way o..

Yui: P-Please wait! J-Just one more...! Can’t you give us one more chance?

Count Walter: ...Hooh.

Yui: I’m begging you! Without that heart, I will...

Please...! Just one more chance...!

Count Walter: Hm...I see...

It seems that unlike with Ayato’s case, you seem worthy of retaking the trial.

Ayato: Aah!? Excuse me!?

Count Walter: ...Well then, Yui-san. Out of respect for you, I shall give you one more chance.

Yui: ...Really!?

Count Walter: Yes. Well then...You two will go and set straight all crimes you have committed here in the Demon World.

Yui: Set straight...our crimes...?

Count Walter: ...Exactly. In the meantime, I shall watch your every move from here.

If you can satisfy me with your approach, I do not mind returning your heart to you then.

Yui: ...Really!? Thank you so much!

Count Walter: Fufu. Being capable of giving a genuine response to someone’s act of goodwill is an admirable feat. I shall award you one point for that.

Ayato: Aah!? Look at you favorin’ Chichinashi this whole time! I’m not diggin’ this!

Count Walter: Oi, Ayato. If you do not watch your words, you will lose points again? Why not take a lesson or two from her?

Ayato: ...!

Count Walter: Well then, get going you two!

Yui: ...B-But...What should we do exactly?

Count Walter: Fufu. You will have to figure that one out yourself.

All I can say is that you should think long and hard about everything you have done so far and fix things appropriately...That’s it.

Well then, I have high hopes for you.

Yui: ...Yes. Please excuse us now. ...Ayato-kun, let’s go.

Ayato: Ah, oi! Chichinashi! Wait!!

*TIMESKIP*

Monologue

We returned to the city,

in a carriage which had been prepared for us.

The Count had been so kind,

to take down the wanted posters,

which meant we no longer had to hide ourselves,

while going from one place to another.

However, the real challenge starts now.

Let us take a deep breath and think first.

About the true meaning,

behind the task which has been given to us by the Count...

I have to somehow retrieve,

my stolen heart after allーー

While trying my best to explain the situation,

to Ayato-kun who seemed as grumpy as ever,

we settled in a waterside hotel.

ー The scene shifts to the hotel room

Yui: Ayato-kun?

( ...He’s not here...? )

( Could he be out on the balcony? ...He must still be upset, huh...? )

ー She steps out on the balcony

Ayato: ...

Yui: ...Ayato-kun. You must be thirsty, no? I’ve got some juice. I’ll leave it here, okay?

*Thud*

Yui: ...Um...I’m sorry...I was quite selfish back then...

Ayato: Che, my thoughts exactly! What was your problem? You just bent to that Count’s will like it was nothing...

He’s the one who stole your heart in the first place, remember!?

So why are we the ones who have to get tested!? It makes zero sense!

Yui: ...Yeah...

( I can’t blame him for getting upset...Still... )

Say, Ayato-kun? Listen?

Ayato: Aah?

Yui: I don’t think you’re wrong...

When we came here and the Gatekeeper talked badly about me...

You got mad at him...Remember? That made me really happy, you see.

Ayato: ...!

Yui: I was convinced you’d protect me no matter what. I told myself to have some faith in you.

Even when we were being chased around by a bunch of strangers, I knew things would be okay because you were there with me.

I want to stay with you from here on out too.

...That’s why I just have to get my heart back.

So we can be together in the future as well...

Ayato: Chichinashi...

Yui: I truly do feel bad for involving you in this as well.

If you don’t want to, I’ll handle it by myself.

I promise I’ll return with my heart, so you can...

ー He suddenly embraces her

*Rustle*

Ayato: You really think I’d do that!? Don’t give me that crap!

...You are mine. How many times do I have to repeat myself?

Ayato-sama will definitely retrieve your heart!

I mean, doesn’t it only make sense? If you are mine, then so is your heart.

I’m not gonna let that bastard do with it as he pleases...!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...Nn...!

Ayato: Nn...

Oi, Chichinashi. Don’t ever say you’ll go by yourself again. ...Understood?

Yui: ( Ayato-kun... )

...Yeah. Gotcha. I won’t.

Ayato: Mmh...Well then...Let’s call it a day.

Starting tomorrow, we’ve gotta get started on that fucked up task given to us by the Count after all.

Yui: Yeah, good idea. ...Ah, Ayato-kun!

Ayato: Pwaah...Hm, what?

Yui: Listen...Okay? ...Thank you for everything...

Ayato: ...Hmph. What are you sayin’ out of nowhere...?

...Oi. I was gonna sleep but I changed my mind. Come here.

*Rustle*

Yui: ( Eh!? W-Wait...Ayato-kun!? Kyaah! )

*Thud*

Ayato: ...Oi, Chichinashi. If you want to thank me that badly, you better tend to me tonight.

Yui: Eh? W-What do you mean...?

Ayato: ...Let me suck your blood. I was just feelin’ kinda thirsty.

Don’t even try sellin’ me that juice of yours. It has to be your blood. Hehe.

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Nn...Haah...Nn...

Haah...It really does taste a lil’ different from usual but oh well...

...It’s still your blood in the end.

In other words, every single drop of this blood belongs to me as well. Nn...

Yui: ...Ayato...kun...

Ayato: ...Oi, gimme more. Nn...Nn...

Yui: ( Even if his words are harsh at times, he always embraces me so gently... )

( I’m sure everything will be okay with Ayato-kun by my side... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) 七三 or ‘seven-three’ refers to a type of hair style in which the hair is parted unevenly with 30% being on one side and the other 70% on the other, hence the name ‘seven-three’. Reiji has this hairstyle, so Ayato always refers to him as 七三メガネ or ‘shichi-san megane’

(2) Literally he says ‘Don’t blame me if your face never goes back to normal’

← RETURN TO PROLOGUE

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 2]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ SHUU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ KANATO]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #lunatic parade #diabolik lovers translation #lpayatochapter1

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unholyobsessions · 4 years ago

Text

K9 Approval

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Description: Spencer starts crushing on the cute dog handler

Requested: Yes

A/N: Not really falling in love, more of a meet cute but I am considering writing a short blurb as pt2 who knows

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, typical criminal minds stuff

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

It’s a pretty standard case. Spencer wishes he didn’t have to classify a number of women getting kidnapped and murdered as ‘standard’ but there is nothing particularly strange about it. The good thing (well not exactly good, more like convenient) is that it’s a local case and he is able to go home to his apartment every night.

When he arrives to the BAU on their third day on the case he knows as soon as he looks at Hotch that this case just became anything but standard.

“He sent a note,” his boss speaks and all color drains from his face. A note can either be extremely helpful, or extremely dangerous. He rushes to follow Hotch into the round table room where the rest of the team is crowded over a lined sheet of paper.

I’ve always enjoyed a nice walk in the park. Especially those with lots of trees. Makes it easy to hide from the monsters crawling in the dark. It’s also easy for the monsters to hide their secrets. Can you find my secret? I’ll give you a hint. She’s no longer breathing.

Spencer’s brain immediately tries to find any codes that could be hidden within the words but comes up with nothing. He picks up the plastic bag the paper is in and starts to read the note again.

“Reid what can you tell us?” Hotch asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“There is a lot of abbreviation. I’ve instead of I have. Lots instead of a lot. It’s casual, almost nonchalant. The pen is pressed lightly against the paper, which shows that he was calm as he wrote it. He’s confident, not worried about getting caught.” Spencer explains his findings without looking up. “Garcia are there any parks within the geographical comfort zone?”

Garcia immediately starts typing away on her computer, not needing to look at the keyboard to click the correct keys. In a matter of seconds she’s speaking the location of two parks, both conveniently placed in the center of the comfort zone.

“We need to get two teams of search dogs in each park. Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss go to the one on fifth avenue. Rossi and JJ you’re with me at the park on eighth. We need to find her.”

. . .

Arriving about twenty minutes later, the park was already crowded with search dogs and their handlers. Spencer crinkled his nose, never particularly excited to work with the dogs. He was vaguely listening to whatever Morgan was saying next to him as he let his eyes scan over the park.

There were certainly a lot of trees and it seemed like the place children would enjoy playing hide and seek in. It wasn’t huge but it was certainly bigger than the average park and the lack of street lamps surrounding the area would have certainly made it easy for the unsub to sneak around at night.

As he kept looking over the area, his eyes caught sight of you and the breath was knocked from his lungs.

You have always loved animals, dogs in particular, and you have known since you were young that you wanted to be able to work with them when you were older. However, eight-year-old you never expected to look for dead bodies for a living, well you look for living people too. And technically you don’t do this for a living, you’re a veterinarian who happens to spend her time volunteering in search and rescue missions.

The decision to start volunteering as a search dog handler came after a girl in your college went missing. Everything was okay and she was thankfully found unharmed but it was two days of your campus being crowded with search dogs. You talked to one of the officers about the job and after a few short minutes of conversation you were instantly hooked. Five years later and you cannot bring yourself to regret your choice.

You remember when you got Ash, a gorgeous German Shepard, after your first training session. He was only three months old and the perfect age to start his training. It required you to spend all of your free time playing hide and seek in your small, one bedroom apartment, which is not as fun as it sounds after a few weeks.

In the end it was all worth it since you are able to help people and it got you a new best friend.

You walk around the park with a tight hold on Ash’s leash. You got the call about fifteen minutes prior and you are thankful that it is your day off from the vet. You keep your eyes on your dog, making sure to look out for any change in his behavior that may indicate that he found something.

The small hesitation in his step was enough to make you stop walking. He started rounding one of the trees, sniffing the ground before looking up at you and giving a loud bark.

You call Hank, one of the members of the team that is carrying the shovel over. “I think we got something.”

Your voice not only attracted the search team, but also three FBI agents. A few seconds later there was a small crowd gathered around you as Ash used his paws to help Hank dig the hole. Once the body has been uncovered you lead Ash away from the crowd, your hand going into the fanny pack strapped around your waist.

“Good job,” you say as you kneel next to him. You hold out the treat and he excitedly licks it off your hand. You can’t stop the smile that comes on your face even though it’s not the most appropriate reaction considering the situation. You feel a pair of eyes on you and you look up to see one of the FBI agents staring at you. He looks embarrassed at getting caught and you wave him over. He does so cautiously, keeping his eyes on Ash.

“Hi,” he says once he gets within speaking distance. You stand up and dust your hands on the fabric of your jeans.

“Hey, you’re from the BAU right?” You already know that he’s from the BAU, your team leader having had told you so as soon as you arrived. But he’s cute and you need a way to start a conversation.

“Yes. I’m Dr. Reid. Uh I mean Spencer…you don’t have to call me doctor.” He looks away bashfully and you smile, finding the blush creeping up his neck endearing.

“Well Spencer, I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself. You notice that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Ash, who is looking up at you as if waiting for you to introduce him. “Everything okay?”

“What? Oh yeah it’s just that dogs don’t particularly enjoy my presence. They actually kinda resent it.” He says it so casually and you are sure that this isn’t the first time he’s had to say it. He looks just about ready to run away if the need arises and he does look a tad surprised to see that Ash isn’t attacking him already.

“Nonsense. Ash is a sweetheart and loves meeting new people. Come on,” you gesture for him to come closer with your hand. What you say is true, however Ash does look a little more vigilant than he usually does, as if he senses a threat in the FBI agent but won’t act upon it without your command. You don’t comment on it though, assuming this will only make Spencer more hesitant. Spencer approaches slowly, afraid that the dog will start barking at him. Once he’s standing next to you, you hear him audibly gulp. “Hold out your hand.” He does as you say, placing his hand out in front of him and toward Ash.

Ash looks at you for confirmation and at the small nod of your head he leans forward, sniffing the stranger’s hand. Spencer looks completely terrified of the situation and after a few seconds, Ash leans back. Spencer is about to retreat his hand but you stop him, knowing that everything is riding on Ash’s next move. Ash lifts his left paw off the ground and places it on top of Spencer’s hand, barking once and you let out a relived sigh. If he had refused to shake Spencer’s hand and barked twice, it would have been a done deal, because even though you are attracted to him, if Ash disproves then it can’t happen.

You smile and nudge Spencer slightly. “See, you just got the Ash stamp of approval.” The laugh that leaves his lips makes your heart flutter and you scold yourself. You just met him, get it together.

You see the grimace on his face once Ash removes his paw and leaves a good amount of dirt on his hand. You reach into the fanny pack and take out a small pack of wipes and a small bottle of hand sanitizer, always prepared. He looks grateful at the items, immediately taking a wipe and running it against his palm. Once he’s done he turns back to look at you. Ash has settled down at your feet, happily wagging his tail and sniffing Spencer’s shoes.

“Does this stamp of approval allow me to ask for your number?” He asks it so casually and it is such a contrast from the shy man a few second before that it takes you completely by surprise. It takes a second for your brain to properly process the question and now you are the one stuttering. Once it catches up, you turn to him with a grin.

“Definitely.” You grab your phone from your pocket and hand it to him and he does the same, both of you typing your contact information. You stare at each other with matching grins but are inevitably broken out of your daze by a voice calling out for Spencer.

“Reid, Hotch wants us back at the BAU. You can flirt with the pretty dog handler later.” The dark skinned agent yells across the park.

Spencer blushes furiously and turns back to you, barely stuttering out, “I have to go.”

You nod your head in understanding. “I’ll talk to you later Spencer.”

“Definitely.” You are pleasantly surprised when he leans down and pets Ash a couple times. “Bye Ash.”

You keep looking at him as he walks away, too distracted to notice the new presence beside you.

“Got a date?” Hank asks.

You shove his shoulder, trying to feign annoyance but the large smile on your face betrays you. “Shut up.” Ash barks up at you, seemingly wanting to join in on the teasing and Hank laughs, lowering his hand to high five Ash. “I hate both of you,” you reply with a frown.

Your façade breaks when your phone chimes with a new notification. You grin at the screen, the text sending butterflies to your stomach.

Want to get coffee on Saturday?

Tilting your phone away from the prying eyes of your team leader and furry friend, you type out a reply.

It’s a date

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg blurb #mgg x reader #mgg drabble #mgg imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #Mathew Gray Gubler #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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livingstonegordo · 4 years ago

Text

Operation Idiots in Love

Bobby

"Okay, that's it." Hen sighed as she watched Buck run up the stairs and out the front door. "I can't take it anymore. We have gotta get them together."

"Get who together?" Bobby asked, sipping a ginger ale.

"Those two idiots who are so far up each other's asses they can't see how in love with each other they are!" she exclaimed, gesturing to where Buck disappeared too.

Chimney was nodding enthusiastically as he listened to Hen. "He's literally abandoning us because Eddie called and said he broke up with the teacher!" He threw his arms up in the air, dangerously sloshing his own drink.

"Maybe we shouldn't meddle in their personal lives, guys," Bobby admonished lightly. "If Buck and Eddie are going to actually take the leap they need to do it on their own."

"Bobby, this is a family, and family meddles in each other's personal lives." Athena gently smacked his arm for emphasis. "Not to mention they're both so oblivious it could take 20 more years before they get it together." There were laughs and murmurs of agreement from their group.

Bobby and Athena had planned a small baby shower for Maddie and Chimney, not wanting to host too many people during a pandemic, but wanting to celebrate with their chosen family. It was just them, Hen and Karen, Buck and Albert, and of course Chimney and Maddie. Eddie had been invited but had back to back appointments for Christopher and was supposed to have lunch with Ms. Flores. They'd gotten through presents, cake, and some games and were mostly just hanging around and chatting in groups when Eddie called Buck to report that, for whatever reason, he and Ana had decided to call it quits. Buck had been sprinting up the stairs before Eddie had even stopped to take a breath.

"Whose personal life are we meddling in?" Maddie asked as she made her way over to them, leaving Karen looking bewildered with a very enthusiastically gesturing Albert.

"Buck and Eddie's," Chimney said, leaning over to kiss Maddie on the cheek when she gracelessly plopped next to him on the couch. "We can't take it anymore. They obviously need a push, just to get the ball rolling."

"I wholly agree," Maddie said. "They're never gonna get there on their own." She was slowly rubbing a circle on her stomach.

"We'll need to plan it out carefully," Hen said. "Maybe we should schedule something where we can get together and brainstorm."

"I'll make a group chat now." Athena set her drink down on a coaster on the coffee table and pulled out her phone.

"We should come up with a code name," Maddie said. "We don't want them knowing we're talking about them."

Grinning, Chim said, "Operation Just Admit It Already."

Hen snickered. "Operation No Homo."

"Excuse me?" Karen said walking up.

"Operation We Can't Stand the Sexual Tension Any Longer." At that Maddie shook her head then lightly pushed Chim.

Hen quietly explained what they were up to to her wife (who looked more and more gleeful with every word) while they all got a text from Athena who had finished creating their group chat. Bobby looked at his phone, a little dismayed to be included in it, but he smiled when he saw the name of the group chat.

"That's perfect, Athena." Maddie smiled. "It's not exactly discreet but they're so oblivious they would never think it's about them."

"Bobby called them that the other night, I thought it was fitting."

"We should include Carla! She'll be so angry if we don't. She likes to gossip about them with Maddie!" Chimney said.

"We do not gossip about my brother. We simply vent about how dumb they are." Hen and Karen laughed while Chimney rolled his eyes.

Bobby sighed, sure all future down time was going to be spent on this.

Operation Idiots in Love.

---

Maddie

The next day Maddie had some time, so she called Carla to explain what they were up to and she asked immediately to be added to the group chat.

"I've been watching those two dance around each other for years. It is high time they get it together."

"Oh I know!" Maddie exclaimed. She was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, wishing it was a second cup of coffee. "I met Eddie and Chimney at the same time and I said to Buck that day ‘he's cute’ meaning Chim, but Buck immediately responded with ‘he gets that a lot, you should see his son’ cause, you know, Eddie is always on his mind. Even back then." She shook her head even though Carla wouldn't be able to see it.

"They've both been through so much, before they met and after. I just want to see my two boys happy."

"And Christopher will be okay with it, right?" Maddie, who was always on the verge of tears these days, fought to keep herself from crying.

"Honey, Christopher has told me at least 4 times that he wants his dad to marry Buck, so that Buck can be around all the time!"

"He has?" Maddie asked, losing the battle with her tear ducts.

"That boy loves our Buckaroo so much,” Carla said, and Maddie could hear the smile in her voice.

"Buck loves him so much, too," she said, sniffling. "Okay I will add you to the group chat. But I am warning you now you might want to keep it muted. Chim and Hen have been blowing it up all morning."

After hanging up with Carla, Maddie had a stern talk with her tears ducts -we cannot cry over everything for the rest of this pregnancy!- downed her tea and quickly got ready for work. She'd downgraded to only working part time as her pregnancy progressed. Since this was a geriatric pregnancy (God, did Maddie hate that word) she knew she and the baby were at a higher risk and wanted to make sure she wasn't over exerting herself- not to mention the fact that she cried a lot easier these days. And when you're a 911 operator crying is not beneficial to the people who really need her help. When she got to the call center she saw May and Linda already on the phones and Josh standing with another operator named Cheryl. She quickly made her way to the locker room to stow her bag, stopped for more tea from the break room and settled in at her desk. It was an hour later when she got some inspiration from a call. The caller was a young woman, Daisy, who was on a first date at a small vegan restaurant, and her date, Cara, had been hit by a car while crossing the street after lunch- nothing serious just a broken leg, though, from the sounds of the scene, the driver was under the influence. She dispatched a squad car and EMS to the scene and waited with Daisy who was on the verge of a panic attack. Maddie was able to keep her calm by giving her clear directions on how to help her date, and reminding her to breath. Daisy had the phone on speakerphone, laying on the pavement next to Cara’s head and when the paramedics arrived Daisy let out a sob. “They’re here! Maddie, the paramedics are here!”

“Good. I may be a little biased, but the 118 is the best firehouse in the city and they will take excellent care of Cara.”

“Playing favorites, Mads?” she heard Chimney say followed by the smack of his chewing gum. “Guess I can’t really blame you. Alright, Miss, can you tell me your name?”

“Cara,” she said weakly. Daisy must have picked up her phone and turned off speaker phone because Chimney’s voice became quieter as he continued to assess Cara’s injuries.

“They know you?” Daisy asked.

“They do.” Maddie smiled. “We’re family.”

When Daisy disconnected the call, Maddie quickly wrote down the name of the vegan restaurant knowing that her brother would love it.

---

Hen

In the week since they started this group chat Hen and Chimney had been tossing out plenty of outlandish and silly plots to get the boys together, but she knew none of them would actually work. Maddie was working on something involving a restaurant but so far nothing had happened. They needed something so rational and normal that Buck and Eddie wouldn’t even question it. They needed a new tactic so she opened up Operation Idiots In Love and sent off a message.

When did you first realize? >Hen

Chimney< When Buck completely lost it when Eddie was trapped underground

Chimney< dude was clawing at the mud with his bare hands WAILING

Karen< Christmas 2019 he organized that whole dinner so Christopher could spend Christmas with his dad!

Carla< Xmas 2019 for me as well

Athena< When Bobby called Eddie after he stole Chimney’s phone and was nearly arrested.

Karen< Does that mean Bobby knew before then?

Karen< The first time Hen mentioned it to me was when Buck arranged for Christopher to spend the day at the firehouse. Is that when you knew, babe?

Chimney< 🤮 babe

That was the day I called it. The way that Eddie looked at Buck that day nearly knocked me over >Hen

👊🏾👀⚠️>Hen

Maddie< I think I knew for sure after the tsunami. Buck called me, completely wrecked because he didn’t know how to tell Eddie they were there.

Chimney< 🪓💪😙

Chimney< What about you cap?

Bobby< The tsunami was when I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Bobby< No one else saw them after they took that live round out of the guy’s leg in the back of the ambulance. My gut knew then.

Maddie< Wasn’t that Eddie’s first week at the 118????

Chimney< IT WAS!

Bobby< I don’t think they were in love then. But I knew they would end up here.

Bobby< Buck was actually flustered when Eddie complimented him.

“Flustered!” Karen exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck flustered.” Hen gazed down at her wife who was laying across the couch with her head in Hen’s lap. Hen had been absentmindedly playing with Karen’s hair (which Karen loved) and had a few strands wrapped around her knuckles.

Chimney< You know that Eddie got under Buck’s skin that very first day

Chimney< If Buck hadnt been so wrapped up in Abby back then things would be so much easier now

Athena< I hate to say our Buck needed his heart broken, but the heartbreak from Abby certainly helped him get to where he is today.

Athena< We got front row seats to Buck maturing these past few years.

Buck 3.0 🙈🤣🙄 >Hen

Carla< He really has come so far ❤🙌🏼

Maddie, how is your plan coming along? 👀 >Hen

Maddie< So I'm thinking of asking him to meet me at this new trendy vegan restaurant, but I can’t think of a good reason for standing him up and suggesting he go with Eddie 🤔

Karen< He would jump at the chance to try a new vegan restaurant! 🌱🤤

Carla< Oh he would love that, not so sure about Eddie though 🥩

Maddie< Exactly

Chimney< Hes so pretentious

Maddie< Honestly, I figured Eddie would go because Buck asked. But even if he refused Buck would probably pick just another restaurant

Maddie< I just can’t think of a plausible excuse for bailing

Maddie< Buck is too good at telling when I am lying 🤥😔

Chimney< Tell him you’re having contractions! 🤰👶

He would just rush off to the hospital, Chim > Hen

Bobby< He would just want to be at Maddie’s side

Karen< No, he would just want to be there for Maddie

Chimney< Alright, alright, hes too good of a brother for that 🙏

Chimney< 🙄🙄

Hen looked at the time and sighed. “You okay with making dinner, while I do some homework?” she asked.

“Of course, babe,” Karen said, smiling up at her. “Just give me 5 more minutes on the couch with you.”

“Anything for you,” Hen said, leaning down to kiss her wife’s forehead.

---

Chimney

Maddie was at a doctor’s appointment and Chimney, upset at not being able to go and bored at home on his own, invited Buck and Albert to go on a short hike. It was a small trail that had only just opened up after the mudslide, and while Albert was a little disappointed it wasn’t a more difficult trail he at least understood that Buck and Chimney both were hesitant to embark on a long trail with Maddie so close to her due date. The trail was fairly empty so they had taken their masks off, though Chimney was a bit weirded out by how naked he felt without it while in public. With Albert running ahead and out of earshot, Chimney decided it was a good time to ask Buck about his love life.

And naturally- he was incredibly awkward about it.

“So, Buck 3.0?”

“Yeah?”

“Is he gonna dip his toe in the dating pool anytime soon?”

Buck let out a huff of breath, looking down at his feet. “Buck 3.0 is about letting go of the past, but honestly? I still don’t think that I’m really in the right headspace to be dating now. Therapy is helping, but it’s not an overnight process. It’s a lot of work letting go of nearly 30 years of low self esteem and abandonment issues.”

“You’ll get there,” Chim said, clapping Buck on the back. “You’re honestly one of the best people ever, Buck.” Buck looked over at him with a single raised eyebrow. “I will deny it if you tell anyone.” He pointed a finger a Buck for emphasis. “But you are my favorite brother.”

Buck’s face cracked into a brilliant smile and he put his hands over his heart. “Oh, Chim, do you mean it? Really and truly??”

Chimney laughed and gave Buck a shove. “I hope it echoes in your ears for the rest of your life because I’m never repeating it.”

“It’s okay. I’m Albert’s favorite brother too.”

“You are not!”

“And Albert has no problems telling me every time I wash his clothes.”

“You wash his clothes for him! Buck, never, ever give Albert anything he will never be able to take care of himself!”

“I don’t mind the laundry, so I don’t make a big deal about it. I do Eddie’s laundry sometimes too.”

“You do Eddie’s laundry?” Chimney asked, eyebrows raised high above his aviator sunglasses.

“Eddie hates doing laundry, and I mean hates. I’ve been over there while he was switching loads and he was grumbling under his breath the entire time. So sometimes if Eddie lets it pile up for too long I’ll do a couple loads while I’m there.”

“You do Eddie’s laundry?” Chim asked again, eyebrows still raised high. It was actually getting a little painful, so he let them relax and come back down. He couldn’t believe this. How domestic. He was definitely telling that to the group chat.

“Yeah, man, it’s not a big deal. Laundry helps my brain calm down. I focus on the clothes and not on all the negative shit running around up here.” He tapped his temple with his first finger, looking down at his feet again.

There was a couple jogging towards them so the conversation stalled while Chimney and Buck pulled out their masks and put them on.

They were quiet as the couple passed them, nodding in greeting and continuing on their way. When Chimney pulled his mask back off he asked, “So what happened with Eddie and the teacher?”

Buck looked over at him, eyebrows raised again as he tucked his mask into his pocket. “He didn’t really say,” Buck answered.

“He didn’t?” Chim asked. “Doesn’t he, like, tell you everything?”

“Usually. But you know Eddie. He processes things on his own time, and when he’s ready he talks about it. All he would say was that she is the one who ended it and that he wasn’t really that bothered because it was just casual and now he doesn’t have to talk to Christopher about him dating.”

“Christopher would be okay with him dating, though, right?”

“I think he would,” Buck answered. “He is legitimately the best kid I have ever met, and he wants his dad to be happy.” Buck looked at his feet here and Chimney noticed his cheeks were a little more red than before. “Chris told me once he wants his dad to date me.” He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

Chimney knew this already, because Maddie had told him what Carla said. He was very interested in how red Buck was turning though, another thing to report to the group chat. “Christopher wants you to date his dad?”

"If I date his dad then we can hang out all the time."

"You would love that." Chimney gave Buck a little shove. "Well all know Christopher is your favorite person in the entire world."

"He is," Buck agreed. He shoved Chimney back a little harder so that Chimney veered off the trail briefly. "He's better than you lot by miles."

They were quiet for a moment and Chimney debated whether or not he should ask. In the end his mouth won and he asked, "Would you?" Buck glanced over at Chimney but didn't say anything. "Date Eddie?" he clarified.

Buck turned an alarming shade of red and opened his mouth to respond when they heard Albert call to them.

"What are you two doing?" He was running towards them, sweaty and grinning. "I made it to the end of the trail and halfway back! Pick up your pace!!"

Buck grinned and took off running. Chimney took out his phone and started texting.

---

Athena

May was working, Bobby had run out to the store, and Harry was still staying with Michael so Athena found herself with a rare, quiet evening. She poured herself a glass of wine and headed to the table on the back patio. The Operation Idiots in Love chat she had started had been pretty active that day but Athena hadn’t had the chance to look through it until now. When she was all caught up with Chimney’s discussion with Buck and everyone’s reactions she sent off a “Sounds like they’re already dating…” and placed her phone face down on the table.

Over the years she had come to think of Buck as her step son of sorts and after seeing his heart break so many times, she just wanted him to finally be happy. Athena wasn’t one to believe that a person needed to be in a relationship in order to be happy, but the only time she had seen Buck looking genuinely content and happy was when he was around Eddie.

Plus she had been a cop for 30 years. She was an expert on picking up on the things left unsaid. She had no doubt that both of them wanted something more, but they were both too terrified of being rejected by the person they depend on the most.

Maddie’s plan was half cooked, at least, and Athena didn’t think that it would really work the way that they wanted it to - and not just because Eddie refused to eat vegan.

She was contemplating possible plans when Bobby returned. He dropped the groceries in the kitchen and came outside, hands falling on Athena’s shoulders and dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re radiating your Sergeant Grant energy,” he said as he pulled out the chair next to her. She just raised her patented Athena Eyebrow at him. “Lay it on me.” Bobby waved a hand between them. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing yet. Just thinking about what could work.”

“For Buck and Eddie?” “Mhmm.” Athena sipped her wine.

“You don’t think they need to get together in their own time? What if whatever ‘Operation’ we all come up with backfires and ruins their relationship?” The air quotes around ‘operation’ were very clear in his tone.

“I think that their relationship, as it is, is strong enough to withstand any sort of awkwardness that we may create if it backfires.” Bobby still looked skeptical. “Look, Buck and Eddie have both been burned in the past. And now they have essentially built their entire lives on top of each other. Co-dependant is how most people would think of it. They’re both terrified of losing each other so neither one of them will ever make the first move. They just need a little nudge. Something to get them both open their damn eyes and look at each other.”

“Okay,” Bobby said, nodding. “We need to keep Chimney and Hen reined in though. They seem to be a little too invested in this.”

“Agreed.”

“How about we have them over for dinner? Just the two of them and the two of us.”

“Mmm a double date?” Athena gave a second, totally different, patented Athena Eyebrow.

“That’s the goal isn’t it?” Bobby stood up pulling out his phone. “I’ll text them.”

“Have it be next Friday,” Athena called. “May will be working late that day.”

“Alright.” Bobby disappeared inside the house and Athena turned back to her wine. She picked up her own phone to text Hen and Michael about the three boys - Harry, Denny, and Christopher - having a much needed sleepover. Harry had been missing his friends since the pandemic started, and if it was just a small group Athena didn’t think they would have to worry too much.

Twenty minutes later Michael was added to Operation Idiots in Love and Athena was texting Eddie to see if Christopher could sleepover Michael’s next Friday.

#911 fox #fic #operation idiots in love #buddie #captain bobby nash #maddie buckley #hen wilson #chimney han #athena grant #buck buckley #eddie diaz #firefam is going to get them together if it's the last thing they do #firefam #118

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purrincess-chat · 3 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH27

What are Marinette and Chloe going to do now that they’re in cahoots? Find out below~

Previous First Next AO3

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

Chapter 27: Better Than Revenge

“I’m surprised to see you here, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe said as Jean Luke poured their tea.

Marinette averted her gaze the way Adrien always did when he came over. People with morals really were annoying.

“Lila’s gone too far. I can’t turn a blind eye and watch my friends get walked over,” she said. “This afternoon, she-”

“Look, I’ve already agreed to help you. I don’t need the whole sob story.” Chloe held up a hand.

“Where were you today anyway? I didn’t see you at the Louvre,” Marinette asked.

“I needed a spa day, so I conned Adrien into taking notes for me.” Chloe examined her perfectly manicured nails. “I see you’ve changed your mind about the status of those brats in your life.”

Marinette sighed. “They’re my friends, or at least, they were at one point. I hate seeing Lila blatantly manipulate them for her own selfish gain.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve got that much, how noble, now what are you thinking? I say we invite her onto a ‘game show’ only in reality it’s a trap we’ve set up where we’ll get a bunch of celebrities to diss her on live television.” Chloe took a sip with a wicked grin.

“Look, I’m agreeing to help you, but we need to set up some ground rules first,” Marinette said.

Chloe sat back with a groan, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, what?”

“I want everyone to find out that she’s a liar, yes, but I don’t want to be needlessly cruel.” Chloe rolled her eyes, but Marinette continued, “We need to be smart about this, or else she’ll just play the victim.”

Chloe thought back to their previous failed attempts and pursed her lips. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Yes. Secondly, and most importantly, Adrien cannot find out that I’m helping you,” she said. The corners of Chloe’s lips twitched into a smirk. “I’m serious, Chloe. Don’t tell him.”

Chloe eyed her for a long moment, debating whether or not to say anything when another knock pounded on her door, and Jean Claude moved to answer it. She squared her shoulders, lifting her teacup to her lips with a sly grin.

“I won’t tell him.” She vowed as Jean Mark unlatched the lock. “You can tell him yourself.”

“Okay, Lila has gone too far this time. I’m ready to do things-” Adrien stormed into the room, stopping short when he laid eyes on Marinette, “-your way… Marinette?”

“Adrien?”

“What are you doing here?” They said in unison.

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed, and he flicked his gaze between Marinette and Chloe.

“I was just-”

“Oh, save it you two!” Chloe interjected with a groan. “Adrien texted me earlier; Dupain-Cheng just showed up at my door, and now you’re both here for the same reason.”

“I know we promised to stay out of it, but Lila has gone too far.” Adrien flashed Marinette pathetic puppy eyes. “I’m sorry for going behind your back.”

“No, you’re right. Lila has to be stopped. That’s why I went behind your back too,” Marinette said. “Forgive me?”

“Of course!”

“Ugh, if you two start kissing, I’m gonna throw up,” Chloe moaned. “So, what’s the plan? I can get a crate addressed to the middle of the Amazon here in the next 20 minutes.”

“Ship her to Egypt for all I care!” Adrien threw his arms out in exasperation.

Chloe reached for her phone with an excited grin that deflated upon seeing Marinette’s contemplative frown.

“Don’t even try to convince us. It’s two against one unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“As fun as it would be, I’m pretty sure that’s highly illegal,” Marinette said pointedly.

“Buzzkill.” Chloe slumped, letting her phone fall back to her lap.

“We need to figure out a way to help everyone realize the truth and prevent her from ever lying again.” Marinette tapped her chin.

“Perfect. Do you want to call Jagged Stone, or should I?” Chloe picked up her phone again.

“You saw how well your interview with Ladybug went. Everyone knows I have an in with Jagged, so exposing her will only make us look like the bad guys for ganging up on her.” Marinette shook her head.

“Don’t you think she more than deserves it? After everything she’s done to you, Marinette, and especially after today with what happened.” Adrien winced. “Look, normally I’m with you, but Lila is evil. She can’t be saved.”

“No, but our friends can.” Marinette turned to face him. “Regardless of how obvious her lies are and how many times we’ve tried to tell them the truth, they’re being manipulated, and it’s going to break their hearts when they find out.”

Adrien held her gaze, pursing his lips, but after a moment, he nodded.

“Okay, you’re right.” He gestured for her to take the lead.

“What? You’re switching sides on me? Traitor!” Chloe shot forward with a gasp, though she shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Chloe, I’m not suggesting doing nothing, just doing something smarter,” Marinette said.

“Like?” Chloe cocked a brow, and Marinette took a thoughtful sip of tea. She really hated how methodical Marinette could be.

“Well, I sort of have half an idea.” Marinette set the cup down. “You and Adrien have a lot of power and money as do a lot of my new friends, and today at lunch when they were talking about Christmas with royalty and charity trips I had a thought: What if we recreate all of Lila’s lies ourselves as truths for the whole world to see?”

“That way when news trickles down to the school they’ll realize that Lila never did any of those things.” Adrien finished, and Marinette nodded. “That’s genius! We’ll have all the proof, and Lila will be forced to admit that she lied without us ever having to confront her.”

“And we get to help people along the way and bring some good from this messy situation.” Marinette added.

“I always knew you were brilliant, mon ange.” Adrien lifted her hand to his lips, gaze soft and disgustingly affectionate. Chloe wanted to barf.

“I still prefer making her disappear, but I guess your idea could work too.” Chloe relented with a huff. Anything to get them out of her suite. She still couldn’t believe Adrien actually fell for her of all people. “It’s the most Marinette way you could have suggested. Always trying to make the world a better place, so annoying.”

“I’ll talk to my friends tomorrow at school and come up with a plan of action. It’s a lot of work, but I think this way Lila will have nowhere left to run. She’ll have to own up,” Marinette said.

“I’m behind you all the way.” Adrien gave her hand a squeeze.

Chloe stood up, clapping her hands. If she had to sit through any more of their cooing, she was going to break out in hives.

“Wonderful, now if you two don’t mind I’m late for a date with a hot stone massage.” She waved her arms in a ‘shoo’ motion, so Marinette and Adrien took their leave. “Jean Clarke, tell the cage guy to be ready on standby. Just in case.”

“Yes, mademoiselle.”

♪♫♪ Call It What You Want ♪♫♪

The slam of Chloe’s suite door echoed in the hall with a bang, and Marinette rubbed her temple with a sigh. Was one normal day so much to ask for? Marinette thought she was getting out of this mess when she changed schools, but somehow she kept getting dragged in deeper.

Adrien slipped his fingers into hers and tugged her toward the stairs. “I think you and I have a lot to talk about.”

He remained quiet for the first flight, lips screwed into a pensive frown. Should she speak first? What would she even say? They’d both gone behind each other’s backs to see Chloe, but they’d done it to protect each other. All she wanted was one perfect day with him, but it seemed that the closer they got to each other, the more complicated everything around them became. His silence ate at her as they rounded the second flight, but halfway down he finally spoke.

“I know you didn’t want to get involved with Lila, which is why I came here today. Even if Lila hadn’t pulled that stunt at the end, I’d already texted Chloe to start again.” He lowered his gaze to his feet. “You must be disappointed in me.”

“Adrien,” Marinette said, tightening her grip on his hand. “I came here without you too, ya know. Lila isn’t giving us the option to stay out of it anymore. She’s not going to stop unless we do something.”

“I know.” Adrien stopped and pulled her into his arms. “I just can’t stand to see you so broken and upset. Just when I started to think that things were going to be okay, she goes on the offensive again. Sometimes I feel like we’re never going to win.”

“We will. One day Lila won’t be able to touch us.” Marinette assured him.

He pulled back with a tortured frown. “That wasn’t how I wanted things to happen earlier. I didn’t want our first kiss to be so heavy. I was hoping that tonight… I planned something for us, but now I feel like everything is ruined.”

“You planned something?” Marinette quirked a brow, heart fluttering.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was hoping we could have dinner at my place and finally celebrate your designs for Clara. We could still go—if you want. Everything is set up.”

Marinette’s cheeks warmed, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her prince was always looking out for her. She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“I’d love to.”

♪♫♪ Fun Tonight ♪♫♪

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

Nino flicked his gaze over to Alya as she set a tray of juice on the desk. She crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed, and Nino buried his face in his knees.

“What did I do wrong? I was right there, she could have come to me,” he said.

“I never painted Ladybug as the type of person to take her anger out on other people, but I guess it’s true when they say no one’s perfect.” Alya remarked bitterly. “But if she wants to be that way then, who cares? We don’t need superpowers.”

“But having superpowers was awesome! Fighting crime with Ladybug and Chat Noir was totally legit!” Nino lifted his head with a frown.

“Well, what kind of hero is Ladybug if she turns her back on real heroes? If she puts hurt feelings over the safety of the city? We never gave her a reason not to trust us,” Alya said.

“You used to look up to her, Alya.” Nino sat back and looked her up and down. “Now you’ve deleted your blog, and you sound like you hate her.”

“Can you blame me? After how she treated Lila and now she’s taking it out on us?” Alya shook her head. “She’s not the person I thought she was.”

“Al…” Nino lowered his gaze. “I know you’re hurt, but I’m worried about you. You’re always stressed and exhausted and angry nowadays ever since…since you and Lila started hanging out more.”

“At least Lila hasn’t turned her back on me!” Alya snapped. She knew exactly what he omitted.

Ever since Marinette left.

Nino sighed, placing his hand over hers. “It’s been a long day. Let’s not fight, okay?”

“Sorry, I’m just all riled up from this afternoon.” Alya crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against his shoulder. “Lila says her ankle still hurts.”

“Do you really think Marinette pushed her?” Nino asked. “I mean, I know Marinette has been kind of a loose cannon lately, and their beef runs deep, but I’ve known Marinette a long time. She’s not the type to hurt someone.”

“She hurt me,” Alya mumbled.

“Don’t you think this feud has gone on long enough? There has to be some middle ground somewhere. I mean, I lost my best bud too,” Nino said. “I miss the way things were before all of this. Don’t you?”

“Nino…” Alya lowered her gaze, then nuzzled in closer. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Nino sighed, and Alya sat up, cupping his cheek. His eyes swirled with unease that only added to Alya’s reservoir of guilt, but he didn’t argue further. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her in.

“Then let’s not talk.”

#mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing #every time i open this chapter i get better than revenge stuck in my head

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

Text

There is Only Try, Part I

“Love spell,” Rowena proclaims as she glides down the stairs to the Bunker floor like it’s her personal ballroom. Her midnight blue floor-length gown and elaborately curled hair look especially out of place - Dean’s pretty sure his shirt has pizza stains from at least three different pizzas. The shirt is red, so at least two of them don’t count.

Behind her on the stairs, Sam chokes.

Rowena turns around to face him. “And I thought this was going to be a challenge,” she chides. “Really, Samuel?”

“What do you mean, ‘love spell’?” Dean demands with a fleeting glance at Cas, who’s gone red in the face. Dean doesn’t blame him - between the hooker with the daddy problems and the stabby reaper, he’d be leery of anything vaguely love-shaped too.

“We called you because we need to translate the runes on a cursed box,” Sam says slowly. “We think it’s in some sort of cipher, since even Cas can’t get a read on it.”

“Well, did Tweety Pie touch the box?”

“No,” Cas says, offended.

Dean nudges him with his elbow, saying in an undertone, “C’mon, like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dean.”

Dean takes in Cas’s unamused face and scowls at Rowena's tinkling laugh. “Okay, Sabrina, what the fuck do you mean by ‘love spell’?”

“I mean the angel’s been cursed with a love spell,” Rowena says with deliberate slowness, like she’s giving a command to a particularly stupid lap dog. “Was it not obvious?”

Dean glances at Cas, horror trickling down his spine. “No.”

“Hmph,” Rowena sniffs. “Men really are oblivious to matters of the heart.” She waves her hand again, eyes glimmering violet. “Like I thought,” she continues, placing both hands on her hips, “A jardin d’amour.”

“A garden of,” Sam pauses, clearly trying not to laugh, “love?”

“A very basic love spell,” Rowena says disdainfully. “The lass didn’t seem to have any imagination.”

“The witch we ganked two weeks ago was a dude,” Dean says. A beat. “A man witch.”

Sam snorts.

“There you go,” Rowena says, lifting her nose into the air. “Most men don’t have that innate knack for the magical arts.” She turns to Sam, giving him the most obvious come-hither look Dean has ever seen. “There are some obvious exceptions, of course.”

Okay, Dean needs Rowena and her heebs with a large dosing of the jeebs out of the Bunker, stat.

“It starts as a tiny seed, a wee obsession,” Rowena explains, “and grows and grows until it consumes you.” She squints, wiggling her fingers, and Dean just barely stops himself from jumping in front of Cas on instinct. “I’d say the spell’s gone about halfway through its course.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. He throws another calculating glance at Cas. “He’s not writing love songs or grabbing a boombox, so he’s obviously not cursed.”

Cas, still suspiciously silent, shoves both his hands in his pockets and stares hard at a spot of the floor between his feet.

“Oh, but he is, darlin’,” Rowena exclaims delightedly. “I can see it clear as day. Look!”

Cas sneezes as the magic washes over him for a third time, and now they all can see the purple sparkles - really, Rowena? - hovering in the air around him.

“Okay,” Dean makes a face, “Now I’m confused.”

“Not for the first time, isn’t that right?” Rowena says with faux-sympathy.

Dean glowers. He turns to Cas. “Come on, she’s making this all up. You’d know if you got dosed with Love Potion No. 9.”

“I-” Cas says, his gaze skittering from Dean to Rowena and back again. He looks… caught.

“Wait,” Dean thunders, taking a step forward, “You knew?”

“I,” Cas starts haltingly, “had suspected.”

“And you didn’t think you’d tell us you’d been whammied?”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all. My vessel is functioning normally.”

“Sure, because you’re such an expert on normal-”

Cas’s eyes flash. “It didn’t seem relevant considering everything else-”

“What d’you mean every-?”

“Kelly Kline - Lucifer, again - the British Men of Letters - take your pick,” Castiel retorts heatedly.

“We’ve got that under control-”

“Killing a child is not ‘under control’-”

“It is if the kid’s the literal spawn of Satan-”

“I never thought I’d hear Dean Winchester defending the murder of an inno-”

Dean throws up his hands. “Did you miss my ‘spawn of Satan’ comment?”

“No,” Cas says, his expression as stony as the Bunker’s foundations, “my hearing is excellent.”

Off to the side, Rowena mutters in a carrying stage-whisper, “I can see how a wee curse like this is the least of your problems.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sam says, running a weary hand down his face.

Dean rounds on them. “What?”

“Do you want me to remove the love spell or not?” Rowena asks, eyebrows raised. “My time is precious, you know. I don’t live to be at the Winchesters’ beck and call.”

“For the last fucking time, it’s not a goddamn spell!” Dean explodes. “Whatever it is, he is not in love. He hasn’t been acting any different.”

Rowena beams. “Well now, if he were already in love, it would have no outward effects. He’d…” Her expression becomes stomach-turningly sly, “...function normally, so to speak.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a firm line. As Dean goggles at him, Cas demands, “Remove the spell, now.”

Dean swallows. Cas can’t be - she can’t be implying - that’s impossible. He’s an angel. They don’t feel things like that.

Do they?

“I’m going to need some ingredients,” Rowena says, looking up to Sam. “Where might they be?”

Sam gestures her forward. “Back in the store room, I’ll show you.”

Rowena pats him lightly on the arm. “What a gentleman,” she simpers as Dean pretends to hurl behind her back.

Dean can’t bring himself to speak until they’re both out of earshot, their footsteps fading off into the distance. He turns to Cas, trying to keep his voice detached and failing miserably. “So, you think it got you after all?”

Cas looks away. “I know it has.”

“Oh.” Dean picks up his empty whiskey glass. He runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. It doesn't work. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Fucking witches.”

“I - I could use one as well,” Cas says to Dean’s surprise.

* * *

“So, uh, who’s the lucky chick?” Dean asks as he makes a beeline for the liquor cart in the library off the war room. He grabs an additional glass for Cas and the bottle of Jack, tips the bottle down his own throat to get them started, and pours them out a few fingers.

Cas takes his drink, jaw clenching. He doesn’t look like a dude head over heels. He looks like his normal sleep-deprived, tax accountant self. He stays silent.

Dean thumps heavily down into a chair. “Have we met her?” he prompts because he’s nothing if not a masochist at heart.

“You could say so, in a sense.” Cas raises his eyes to meet Dean’s, face softening, and Dean’s going to hurl for real this time. Cas continues, “There’s not much in my life I keep from you.”

Dean swallows against the ball of self-loathing and disgust clogging his throat. “Some lady angel, then? Been dreaming about plucking her harp strings?”

Cas scowls into his drink. “No.”

“Not an angel?”

“Not a lady,” Cas says, his voice almost unbearably stiff. “And not an angel, either. A human - a beautifully flawed human.”

Dean has no words to say to that, so he drinks. Cas has probably met thousands of people - nice, normal people who aren’t fucked up in the head from ganking monsters their whole lives - since he’s been on Earth. God knows, he hasn’t been plastered to Dean’s side the entire time. Lately, Dean can’t even come up with a good excuse to get him to stay for more than a day or two at most.

“A guy, then,” Dean says to make sure they’re on the same page - because last time he checked, waves of celestial intent cared less about acing a Gender and Sexuality 101 class and more about whether a meatsuit could withstand a holy oil molotov cocktail.

Cas nods, his eyes narrowing. “Your opinion on homosexual relationships is part of the reason I’ve never brought it up before.”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” Dean says, not entirely truthfully. He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Homo it up, man. Love is love.”

Cas’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t comment on Dean’s hamfisted attempt at proving his acceptance of ‘alternative lifestyles’ as Dad might’ve put it charitably one time. “It’s complicated,” Cas adds, like any part of this fucked-up situation could fit under a goddamn Facebook status.

Dean hitches a grin on his face that probably wouldn’t fool a blind person. “So, apart from that, how come you’ve never come to me for help? I don’t wanna brag, but I’m kind of an expert in hookups. Sam’s kind of hopeless. He can’t get a chick into bed without her dying on him.”

Cas knocks back his glass. “I didn’t want to bother you with my feelings.”

Dean automatically grimaces at the mention of feelings. But, hell, he’s not a teenage girl. He can man up and be there for his best friend.

He has to - Cas hardly asks him for anything anymore.

Sure, Cas didn’t exactly ask Dean for anything this time around, but Dean can read between the lines. Now that he’s copped to what’s going on beneath Cas’s still waters, he can see how deep those feelings run. Especially if what Rowena’s saying is true and a love spell is barely a drop in the bucket.

“And, regardless, your ‘hookup’ skills wouldn’t be relevant, anyway,” Cas says quietly, lowering his hands. “I’m not interested in… coupling.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “That reaper really screwed you over, didn’t she? Look, just because you got shanked, doesn’t mean all sex winds up with an angel blade-”

“I misspoke,” Cas says over him. “What I mean is, I would rather have no sexual relations at all if I cannot have all of him: mind, body, and soul.”

Trust Cas to spout the most profound cheese Dean has ever heard.

And also, what the fuck? Dean can’t get behind that idea at all. Dean’s always been a take what you can get kind of dude. He had to be, with what he has to work with - a pretty face, a killer's instinct, and an inability to have a normal relationship if his goddamn life depended on it.

Like, if Dean had gotten the slightest whiff that Cas was down with gettin’ down and dirty with Dean as his last hurrah (which of course he didn’t), Dean would never have bothered with that stupid den of inequity. As hilarious as the outcome was, he would have gone for a little something-something for himself before the end of the world.

Of course, Dean wasn’t in love with Cas yet then. Whenever it came to mind, it was just a fun thought experiment, an idle what if for him to think about during a dry spell. Like his fantasies about fucking Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. Or hatesex with Bela Talbot.

But none of that mattered because every step of the way from Castiel, mighty Angel of the Lord, to Cas, their friendly neighborhood angel-man, he never hinted he’d be down for a quick roll in the hay... or something more serious.

Dean remembers very clearly: Anna fell to experience emotions, even the bad ones.

And Dean’s not an idiot - Cas obviously experiences emotions now. Dude’s been through too much not to feel something. But Dean’s never deluded himself that they could ever include all the romantic lovey-dovey, chick-flick moments crap.

Family love, sure. Cas might love all his haloed siblings. Cas has been around for all the Top 10 worst decisions that are the Winchesters’ version of brotherly devotion. Cas even said the big L-word out loud himself, when he was bleeding out in that barn a month ago.

But romantic love? The big kahuna L-O-V-E?

Dean always thought scaling Mount Everest with a plastic beach shovel would be easier than convincing an angel to feel that way about anyone. Cas is a wave of celestial intent; waves of celestial intent don’t do anything as human, as stupid, as fall in love.

But apparently they do.

So maybe that’s why Cas has always been so hard to pin down, so eager to leave Dean all the time. He’s been off pining after this mystery guy.

Awesome.

Cas heaves a weighty sigh and finishes off his own glass of whiskey. Without another word, he half raises from his chair, reaching around the table lamp, to pour them both a second round. “I suppose there is a bit of a relief in finally saying it,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t be with him, but there is a certain amount of happiness in it being known, just being seen.”

Dean wastes no time in downing half his new drink. Throat burning in warning, he forces out, “Why - why can’t you? You’re a freaking angel - thought you could have anyone.” Dean frowns. “He’s not a civilian, is he?”

Talk about a recipe for disaster: Cas plus normal person equals uncomfortable questions and fucked up babysitting gigs.

Cas’s eyes widen. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. “Ah, no, not really.”

“So he knows about angels.”

Cas gives a slow nod. “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of them, though,” he says ruefully, staring down into his glass. “They’ve made his life very difficult over the past few years.”

Dean scoffs, “He can join the club.”

Cas flinches.

“Hey, no,” Deans says quickly, “Not you.”

Cas raises head, his eyes unbearably bleak. “Why not me? I was the one who set the Leviathans and angels loose on humanity to wage their wars, among a dozen other transgressions.” He adds morosely, “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if a different angel rescued you from Hell after all.”

Dean blinks at Cas, his stomach turning over with dread at the very idea. He tries to picture some nameless angel yanking him out of the Pit or marching into that barn with all the righteousness of Heaven on his heels. Dean can’t do it.

Or worse, not a nameless angel. Uriel, who was ready to kill thousands without a second thought. Zachariah, that dickwad with the mind games. Even Hannah, who Dean reluctantly liked - he still can’t see her sticking by their side, falling, sacrificing everything for them.

Cas is their third wheel, the stabilizer that keeps Team Free Will upright and moving forward. Without him, they’re a tandem bicycle, and nobody wants a repeat of that opening scene from Gabriel’s sitcom from Hell.

“Yeah, but at least you always tried to do the right thing.”

“There is no try, only what I did or did not do,” Cas answers with a strange, defeated expression.

“Okay, but,” Dean starts, rolling his eyes at Cas’s butchered Star Wars reference, “Yoda’s a lot of things, but applicable to the real world without space lasers, he is not. Sometimes the only thing you can do is try, dude.”

God knows, Dean could never have forgiven Cas for any of the shit he pulled if he hadn’t been 100% positive Cas had the best of intentions. Cas did all those things to save the world, and, sometimes, to save Dean personally. Which gives him the girliest, fuzzy feelings and also makes him want to punch a wall.

Cas throws him a pitying look. “Every time I ‘try’ to make things better, I fail.” He shakes his head. “When you were taken, I searched for months to find you. Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. I’m a… dumbass.”

“I thought you preferred ‘trusting,’” Dean jokes, and it only sounds a little forced.

Cas throws him an exasperated look. “Perhaps a few years ago. But now? I’ve made too many mistakes, and people have suffered - you and Sam have suffered - as a result. You don’t need to spare my feelings, Dean. It’s hardly what I deserve.”

Dean frowns, tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes in Cas's defeated air. “Hey, what’s with the pity party?”

“It’s not a ‘pity party’,” Cas counters. “These are basic facts.”

Dean leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You aren’t serious.”

Cas stares back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean rakes his gaze up and down Cas’s face, looking for a break, for a tell - even though he knows he won’t find any. “You saved the world. A couple of times by now.”

“I also personally put it in jeopardy more than once,” Cas mutters. “I trusted Crowley to steal Purgatory. I trusted Metatron to bring peace to Heaven. I trusted Lucifer to take out the Darkness.”

Dean’s heart sinks with every reminder of Cas’s greatest hits. “Come on…”

Cas’s mouth thins, lips pressing together as he raises his glass to his mouth. “You don’t need to stay to keep me company, either,” he says in a low voice. “I’m the one under the spell. If you have anything more pressing, I can wait here for Rowena.”

“Shut up,” Dean says automatically. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas exhales a weighty sigh, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

“Hey, what you need - hell, what we both need - is a win,” Dean says reassuringly. “Everything’s been such shit, you need a reminder to keep going.” He gets up from his seat, his legs itching to move. “Why don’t you tell me more about that man of yours?” he asks quickly, his words nearly tripping over themselves to get out before the regret sets in. “Maybe that’s the key to getting your head back in the game.”

Cas doesn’t say anything as Dean moves to peruse a row of books he has no intention of ever reading. Eventually, Cas protests without much conviction, “My head is in the game. I am still useful.”

Dean’s head jerks around so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?” Cas asks, head tilting in confusion.

Dean makes a face. “I mean, if you’re feeling down, you… shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean paces to the other end of the bookshelf, unbelievably annoyed at Cas for making him spell it out for him. “Forget it,” Dean says instead. “I still owe you for ganking Billie-”

“But the cosmic consequences-”

“Will suck, but in the meantime you saved our lives. I owe you.” Dean turns so he’s back to fully facing Cas. “So, tell me what this mystery guy is into.”

Cas’s eyes narrow at him. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

Cas straightens and nods.

“But,” Dean says, words failing as he wars with himself. He could push Cas for more info or keep on living in blissful ignorance. But if he has to choose between his own personal peace of mind or Cas experiencing the one pinnacle of human happiness (or so Dean’s been told in countless chick flicks he’ll take to the grave), it’s no choice at all. He starts again, “If you tell me about him, it’ll make this a lot easier.”

“I don’t want it to be easier,” Cas says, baffled. “I don’t want this to be anything.”

Dean gapes. “Why the hell not?”

Cas taps his empty glass on the table, irritated. “Please, leave it alone.”

“No,” Dean says mulishly. “I wanna help you, man.”

“I don’t want any help.”

“Well, tough shit because you’re getting it anyway. You’re family-”

Cas’s face does a weird spasm.

“-And that’s what you do for family,” Dean continues, a little confused and insulted. They are family; Cas said so, back when he thought he was dying in Ramiel’s barn.

“Drop it.”

“No,” Dean argues, shoving down everything else as his temper rises. “You’re hurtin’, and I can help. Why don’t you trust me? You trusted Crowley, Metatron, fucking Lucifer-”

Too far. Shit.

Cas whirls around, his face a mask of frustration and an emotion Dean has never seen before. “I did, and you know what? They screwed me. And, please forgive me, Dean, but I am tired of being used and used up, over and over.”

Dean blinks, his anger falling away to a raw hurt only Cas can dredge up. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Cas runs a weary hand down his face. He just shakes his head.

“C’mon, Cas, it’s me,” Dean says - pleads, really. “You know me better than anyone else, ’cept Sammy. I won’t do something like that.”

Cas glares. “I do know you, so I know that is exactly what will happen.”

Dean reels back, and he can’t save himself in time before an undoubtedly pained look spreads across his face.

Cas’s hostility cracks, but Dean’s already gotten the message.

So Cas’s one big happy loving family message was only a deathbed thing. That’s… fine. Dean’s done it himself, a time or two. Told Sam to live his life and not go looking for revenge or a way to fix it - all a crock of horse shit, of course. He should’ve figured Cas was more human than angelic with that poison pumping through his veins, making him all weak and sweaty. ’Course he wasn’t above feeling human sentimentality in his death throes.

Face hardening, Dean turns on his heel. “You were right about one thing. I guess I do have more important things to do than staying here with you.”

“Dean,” he hears behind him, but Dean doesn’t look back.

* * *

Dean always hides a spare bottle of booze in the bottom drawer of the desk in his bedroom. It's mostly empty, but, hopefully, by the time Dean's polished it off, Cas’ll be cured, Rowena will be gone, and they all can pretend this never happened - Dean can pretend that Cas stopped keeping secrets because he’s learned they always blow up in his face in the past six years.

Anyway.

First, the booze.

Dean’s barely wrestled the top off with shaking fingers of leftover anger when a knock sounds against his door.

“’S the witch gone yet?” Dean asks without lifting his head.

The door opens. “Dean, it’s me.”

Dean takes a long pull of whiskey.

Cas sighs, audible in the stuffy, tension-filled space between them. He doesn’t approach, instead hovering in the doorway, and isn’t that how it always goes? Always poised for flight, that’s Cas. “Dean,” he repeats, which only makes Dean's blood boil that much hotter.

“What?” he demands. “What do you want now? ’Cause I can’t think of a single thing you need from me, Cas.”

Cas presses his lips together. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“Me?” Dean barks incredulously. “You’re the one hiding things and not letting me help you.”

“You won’t accept this is one area in which you can’t help?” Cas asks quietly.

Dean makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.

Cas shakes his head, his gaze focusing on Dean’s face with his patented laser intensity. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Yeah, I’m just a jackass who can’t get a lady to stick around for more than a few hours. I get it.” He glances up to see Cas’s stricken expression. Frowning, Dean looks away.

Cas steps tentatively into Dean’s room, his face weirdly apprehensive. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Sure,” Dean says, tipping the bottle back like it’s water because he needs to be so much drunker to deal with Cas and his love spell bombshells right now.

Cas hovers awkwardly by Dean’s desk, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “You’re so capable of love.”

“Cas-” Dean starts, but he has no idea where he’s going with this.

Cas keeps talking, thank God. “You don’t acknowledge that side of you very often, but I feel it every time we see each other, every time you’re with your brother. You care, you love, so wholly and completely.” Cas chuckles ruefully. “I didn’t realize it for a few years. I didn’t see how unique it was, how special you are, but you are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.”

Dean’s tongue finally unsticks from the roof of his mouth. Face flaming hotter than the inferno where he first met Cas eight years ago, he rasps out, “Cas - what the hell are you saying?”

Cas swallows, dragging his gaze back up to meet Dean’s wide eyes. “The reason I didn’t tell you about the love spell was because it couldn’t make me love you any more than I already do.”

Dean blinks, dumbfounded, at Cas, the words love you bouncing around his skull like a blocked radio signal. Cas said them; Dean heard them with his own two ears; but the meaning behind the words is getting lost in transmission.

As Dean’s brain struggles to make sense of just about everything, Cas nods once. “Well, now you know. I’ll go wait for Rowena’s cure in the kitchen.”

And then he leaves.

Dean slams the whiskey bottle down on his desk, cursing as it nearly topples over in his haste. He sets it right, swearing more as precious seconds pass by. He hurtles down the hall, half-convinced Cas lied to him to get a head start and is really halfway to Timbuktu.

But Dean finds Cas in the library, sitting more or less where he left him before Dean had his little wallowing session in his bedroom.

“Cas!” Dean blurts, skidding to a halt and grabbing onto the edge of the table for support.

Cas looks up, frowning. “I - “ he gives himself a little shake and starts again, “Is Rowena having trouble with the spell?”

“What?” Dean strides forward on shaky legs. “No - I mean, I don’t know. They could be fucking in a supply closet for all I care.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. For the first time today, he looks almost afraid. “Then why are you here?” he asks, his gaze darting towards the stairs to the exit. “I’m only going to stay in the Bunker until Rowena can finish. Then I will go.”

“Go?” Dean repeats, a spike of panic shooting up his spine. “You can’t.”

Cas inhales a sharp breath. “You want me to stay?”

“You want to bail?” Dean demands, his voice rising.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’re upset. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I’m not fucking upset!”

Cas throws him an unimpressed look. “You clearly are. Your pulse is rising. Your pupils are dilated. I can smell your elevated levels of adrenaline.”

Dean makes a face. “Dude - lines - crossed.”

“Fine,” Cas says, his face set. He gets up. “I can coordinate with Rowena at a later date. She should focus on the cursed box, anyway. It’s clearly a more pressing concern and the reason we called her in the first place.”

“Hey.” Dean takes a step forward. “Wait.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a thin line. “What do you want, Dean? I did as you asked. I told you the spell could only latch onto my feelings for you.”

Dean falters, his words failing him.

Cas’s shoulders slump. “I did warn you, you know,” he murmurs, trying to pass Dean on his way towards the door.

Dean grabs onto Cas’s bicep before he can disappear. “Gimme a moment. What you said - it’s a lot.”

Miracle of miracles, Cas stops.

Dean can practically feel the power thrumming underneath the trench coat sleeve in his grip, but Cas wordlessly lets Dean guide him back to the library table.

“Okay,” Dean starts, his head still mercilessly void of the right thing to say, “So that guy, the one you’re - well, it’s - he’s me?” he asks, stumbling over his words like he hasn’t since that one time Rhonda Hurley opened her underwear drawer.

Cas nods once, his face impossibly solemn.

“Right,” Dean grunts. He rubs at his chin, Cas watching the whole while. “That’s - wow.”

“Quite,” Cas says wryly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick,” Dean shoots back. “I had no idea.”

“That was the point,” Cas sighs. “But now you do.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling like a tongue-tied idiot. If only he could be more like Cas with the grand declarations.

Cas opens his mouth, pausing for a beat before saying, “I was never intending to leave permanently. I will still help you figure out how to deal with Kelly Kline. I will still assist with research, translations, anything you need.” His blue eyes bore into Dean’s face. “I can still be useful.”

Dean’s chest aches. “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t about that?” he asks gruffly.

Cas’s earnest expression falters. “Of course,” he says, subdued. “Regardless, know that I am always willing to help the Winchesters.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, “This isn’t - it’s never been - about you being goddamn useful.” He huffs an exasperated breath, frowning harder as Cas doesn’t immediately get it and launch himself at Dean.

God, that would make this so much easier.

“What you want?” Dean says, glaring daggers at the tabletop between them, “That whole, mind, body, soul crap? You got it.”

Cas blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“You already have it,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Cas cocks his head like a perplexed chicken, still as clueless as ever.

It’s clearly time to bring out the big guns. If Cas is going to spout pretty speeches that steal Dean’s breath away and leave him weak-kneed but not actually, you know, make a move, Dean will just have to do everything himself.

Fine. That’s how he’s always operated, anyway.

Face determined, he leans over and grasps the lapels of Cas’s trench coat.

Cas leans back a fraction, his eyes widening in alarm or shock. But before he can utter another word, Dean brings their mouths together.

Cas takes a moment to get with the program. There’s a split-second (that lasts several years) when Cas almost seems to push Dean off him, but he kisses back before Dean can yank himself away first. Cas’s mouth is tentative against Dean’s, like he’s waiting for Dean to end it all and yell, “Got ya!”, but he unseals his lips with a light sigh as Dean gently parts them with his tongue.

Dean unclenches one hand from Cas’s lapel. He reaches up to cup Cas’s jaw, the raspy stubble a physical reminder of the goddamn win he’s finally getting. His knees twinge from awkwardly leaning over, but rampaging Leviathans could burst into the kitchen and Dean wouldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He has Cas right where he wants him, and he’s going to fucking savor it for as long as he can.

When Cas pulls away, his face shows nothing but pure confusion. “Why?” he breathes, raising a finger to touch his lips.

Dean, still half-standing, half-leaning over him, frowns. He falls back to his seat with a thump. “Because you weren’t going to do it first?”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted anything like that,” he pauses, “with me.”

Like there’s anyone else around who wants to get real up close and personal with the most dumbass angel in the garrison.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, the faintest inklings of embarrassment creeping in now they’re not kissing anymore and Cas’s first reaction isn’t to look like he got free tickets to Disneyland. “I did. Do.”

“Oh.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat.

Cas looks away from Dean for the first time, and Dean dies a little inside. Stiffy, Cas says, “If this is some misguided attempt to show your sympathy for my situation. I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

“Gesture?” Dean echoes, “What the hell are you on, man? I don’t kiss random dudes because I feel bad for them, Christ.”

“Then why?”

Dean grimaces. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Cas says quickly, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s face. “I have misunderstood your actions in the past, and I have no desire to do it again.”

Dean groans. “Look, I didn’t think angels could have feelings like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Or I would’ve… done something about it sooner,” he says, and that’s mostly true. Probably would’ve tried to seduce Cas, failed, and then jumped off a cliff, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, normal angels can’t,” Cas says, “but there’s something broken in me.”

“You’re not broken,” Dean swears loudly, his anger flaring. “You’re… better. A new and improved God Squad, far as I can tell.” He narrows his eyes, daring Cas to talk shit about himself one more time.

Cas bites his lip. “You truly mean it.”

Dean tries for a mocking leer, but it comes out more like a dopey, hopeful smile. “You wanna get it engraved? Put up in neon in the Dean cave?” he asks, eyebrows raised as excitement courses through his veins. Cas loves him. Dean can make good on all those what ifs that have been plaguing him for years. “Tattooed on my ass?”

Cas chuckles lightly. “That would be a start.”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter. He can already feel the insecurities looming on the horizon. There’s always a catch: Cas never stays; Cas might want Dean now, but he’ll fly away the moment Dean fucks up because he has no idea what he’s doing.

But none of that matters right now.

He kissed Cas.

And Cas didn’t smite him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't flutter off to the moon for shits and giggles.

Cas knows him, knows him better than anyone except Sam. And despite all the fucked up shit in Dean's head, Cas is staying anyway, with his eyes wide open like nobody else Dean has ever been with.

Cas smiles in return. “If I had known a love spell would result in this outcome, I would have sought out that witch ages ago.”

And just like that, all Dean’s happy-ending fantasies come to a screeching halt.

Read Part II here!

#destiel fanfic #profoundnet #fanfic #destiel #rae writes fic #canon divergence #season 12 #love spell au #minor samwitch #there is only try

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 4 years ago

Text

Right Before Your Eyes (I’m Breaking)

Pairing: 12th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,893

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, consumption of alcohol (not shown), drunk reader (suggested)

Summary: After a devastating event causes you and the Doctor to fight, you leave. However, after a night out with friends, you find yourself calling him.

Request: you opened requests again YAY, ok so i was wondering if you could write one where the reader leaves the doctor (12) bc they got into an argument ab their feelings and when he comes back to talk it out more calmly he finds her drunk and she confeses with n°1 from the prompt list #1 (general) Prompt: “I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.”

A/N: This was a bit of a difficult one to write and I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but it’s here now. Hope you enjoy!

The future was cold.

There was this depressed, angry, chill in the air, and it seemed to cement itself into everything it touched. It ran down your spine, curled itself into the small of your back, and made you shiver.

The cold was everywhere.

Or maybe it was just you.

You stared out over the ruined city, the fire billowing ash into an orange sky. It wasn't supposed to be orange, this planet had a similar biosphere to Earth, and it hadn't changed that dramatically since the 21st century.

The sky was supposed to be blue; like the ocean, like the Doctors eyes.

But no, it was orange. It had come from the smoke, settling under the clouds like a suffocating blanket, snuffing out the light.

Before it had happened, you had been in the village, teaching the children hopscotch - because they didn't have hopscotch, of all things, in this strange new planet. Then the fire had come, so fast, so suddenly, that the most you could do was just go.

The Doctor had taken your hand and told you to run.

So you did, because the Doctor would come back. He would save them. He would always save them.

There was a crack, echoing across the landscape, and it rocked into the ground. You watched as a wooden spire split into two, splintering across the city, then collapsed into the building below. A plume of ash flew into the air, spreading it's tendrils over the small town.

"You should have gone back," you said, and were surprised by the way your voice croaked. "You always go back."

The Doctor was standing by your side. He was silent, as if you weren’t worth the response.

You waited for a moment, then another.

He wouldn’t even look at you.

You grit your teeth. “You didn’t go back,” you voice was harsher, angrier, than you had expected. There was a brittle chill to it, one you took no effort to control.

The Doctor sighed. It was weary, like he was annoyed with you. “Y/N, if we’re just going to be stating the obvious here-“

“Why?” you said, but the way your voice lilted made it clear that it wasn’t an ask. “Why didn’t you go back?”

You turned to face him then, tearing your eyes away from the ruined town. He looked like a ghost, the firelight casting shadows across his face until he was almost blended into the scenery. You couldn’t tell where the Doctor begun, or where he ended. It was unnerving, eerie in a way you had never thought about before, not about the Doctor – not ever. The lines on his face were sharp and pronounced, etched into his skin like hey had always belonged there. It made him look more angular, more pronounced, and, for the first time, looking at him, it didn’t feel quite right.

For a painfully long moment, he didn’t speak. When he did though, it almost broke you further.

“There wasn’t any choice,” his words were steady, hollow, as if he had said that line a hundred times before.

You clenched your fists. It was the wrong answer.

“So we go back,” you said, thinking of that dazzling time machine right behind you. 20 minutes, maybe 30, that was all you would need. You looked back towards the town, and watched the foundations of the bakery begin to give. “We’ll go back and save them.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

The Doctor didn’t look at you. “We can’t.”

You let out an unbelieving breath. “Sorry?”

“We can’t,” he said, and he still wouldn’t look at you.

You threw a hand in the air, gesturing aimlessly, and vaguely noticed little moon shaped crescents indented in your palms. They were bloody – how hard had you been clenching your fists? “We can’t just let them die,” your voice was raised, but not high enough that it was a yell. You wanted to yell, you wanted to shake him, kick and scream, do anything to get the Doctor to do something, anything – but you held yourself back. That would be undignified. The Doctor wouldn’t respect that.

“They already died,” the Doctor yelled, as if snapping, like he could no longer tolerate you. He gestured out towards the burning town. “Look Y/N, they’re dead and you,” he turned to you now, finally looking at you. “Are not. It’s done.”

“But we can change that,” you countered. “We can fix it-”

The Doctor enunciated each word slowly and carefully, his voice shaking in repressed anger. “They are dead. It cannot be changed, it is a fixed point.”

“What’s stopping you?” You ran a hand through your hair.

“It’s a fixed point,” the Doctor repeated, and his voice was harsher, less forgiving. “It’s not possible, the laws of time dictate it. They died. Past tense. “

You let out a bitter scoff. “Since when have you ever followed the rules?

“This is more than just a rule,” and now, his voice was almost a yell. “Y/N, this is about the very fabric of time and space itself. We cannot control it, I cannot control it,” He turned to you suddenly, his eyes piercing into yours. “Listen to me very carefully. If you’re to travel with me, you will drop all of,” he gestured to you, like he couldn’t quite place what was wrong with you, so chose everything. “This, and accept it. Don’t be foolish enough to believe that you can change it.”

His face was dark, and it cast a striking silhouettes in the light of the roaring fire and it held a sort of anger you had never seen before. It cast a striking shadow in the light of the roaring fire, with black shadows and cold eyes. It was frightening.

You took a hesitant step backwards, your breathing sharp. “That’s terrible.”

The Doctor gave you a final, considering look. With a tone of finality, he said, almost petulantly. “Get used to it.”

He stalked into the TARDIS, and then, just as suddenly, slammed the door shut.

You stood there, gobsmacked, staring at the familiar blue door. Your shock quickly ebbed away, giving way to burning red fury, turning your vision white.

He was so cruel.

You swung the door open, grateful, for a moment, that it did open, and marched inside.

The TARDIS was dark, the lights were turned low, and those same shadows that had been cast over the Doctors face, had found themselves over every nook and cranny in the console room.

It made you pause, for a moment.

You took in a deep breath, calming yourself. One final question. “Why did you save me, then?

You couldn’t see the Doctor, the TARDIS was too dark, but you heard his voice. It was calm, which surprised you. “Y/N, that should be obvious.”

“Humour me.”

There was a knocking noise, like he was drumming his fingers against the console. “I have a duty of care.”

“You’ve got a duty of care over freaking leprechauns,” you countered, and then it occurred to you, that he didn’t. If he did, he would have saved the town, he would have tried. The Doctor had lied. You tried again. “Why did you save me?”

The tone of his voice surprised you, it wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t kind either. “You’re acting like you’re special.”

“No Doctor, you don’t get to deflect,” you took a hesitant step forward. “You don’t get to posture about time and the way of things, and then scoop me up and get me out.”

“Then put it together,” he seethed. “Surely you’re not this thick-”

“Don’t insult me,” you took in a heavy breath. “Why would you do it? All those people, but you saved me. You’re acting like everyone there – including me, were supposed to have died. What aren’t you telling me?”

“How to solve the Twin Prime Conjecture,” you still couldn’t see him, but his voice sounded unaffected. “Really Y/N-”

You groaned. “I’m not stupid, at least do me the dignity of talking to me honestly.”

“If you were brighter Y/N, you would know,” he said. “But evidently, you’re not. So we better get used to it.”

You took a step back.

Get used to it.

And then you thought of the town.

In most films and books, when the protagonist remembers awful, terrible events, they normally remember the traumatic stuff. The screams of innocent people, the aimless wanton destruction that would always follow, the heartbreak, the misery.

You didn’t think of any of that, and, somehow, that made it worse.

You remembered the children’s laughter, a young girls squeal of delight as she finished a round of hopscotch. You thought of the bakers warm pumpkin bread, and how the smell had wafted through the open door. You pictured the smiles from the village people, and that magnificent bell that had hung in the spire.

All gone, snuffed out in an instant.

You were furious – it was unfair. They didn’t deserve to die like that, especially not with the Doctor here. And it was like he didn’t care. For him, it was just another day.

Fine then. If he wouldn’t be honest with you, and if he couldn’t bring it in himself to actually care. You spoke softly, but your voice was firm. “Take me home.”

There was silence.

You took another careful step forward. “Doctor,” you said. “Take me home.”

He waved a hand in the air, and you realised he had been on the other side of the console, refusing to look at you. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

You snapped. Ridiculous?

They had died.

Hundreds of people.

And they had died.

“No,” you almost yelled. “I’m not. I want to go home.”

The Doctor disregarded you. “Go take some time to cool off-”

“I won’t do this Doctor,” your voice was firmer now, and you knew he couldn’t ignore it. “I can’t be around a man who is so callous about death that he – that you…” you stammered off. What could you say? That he would leave an entire village to ruin? That he would brush off their deaths so easily? That he wouldn’t just admit that he cared about you? You swallowed down the rest of the sentence. “Take me home.”

The Doctor lifted his head slowly, and locked his eyes onto yours. In the TARDIS light, he didn’t look so intimidating anymore. He almost looked… heartbroken. “Okay Y/N,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

You nodded.

And the Doctor pressed some buttons, pulled a lever, and you were off.

It had been a week since you had seen the Doctor, since you had told him to take you home, and your head was delightfully cloudy. There was a ridiculously loud band playing on the small, tiny stage that made up half the space of the pub.

You watched the guitarist, his deft fingers plucking along like it was his first time playing, and he kept needing to retrace his steps.

In other words, he was terrible.

You wanted to laugh about it with your friends, but they weren’t paying attention, and were instead in an intense conversation about relationships, and other messy, unrelatable, heartbreaking stuff.

You hated it.

You stared at your phone, the only thing your vision could focus on.

You thought about it for a moment, only one. You could call the Doctor. Would it really be so bad?

You shrugged to yourself. Why not.

You told your friends you were just ducking out for a moment, and stumbled out of the pub, your phone glued between your shoulder and your ear.

He picked up.

“Hi!” You yelled over sound of the band, then drew out the next word. “Hello.”

You couldn’t hear his reply.

“Wait,” you shouted, and you weren’t sure if you’d actually pronounced the ‘t’. “Gimme a moment.”

You staggered through the door, and found yourself in the cool night air. The world tilted to the side slightly, and you fell against the wall. You leaned against it, the cobblestones hard and familiar against your back. You drew out your words, talking in a sing song voice. It felt like the right thing to do. “Hello Doctor.”

“Y/N,” he said, and he sounded worried – wait, was that worry? You couldn’t tell, the sound of his voice rang in your mind, the familiar sounds and decibels making the hair on the back of your arms stand. “Are you okay?”

You laughed brightly – god you missed him. You could just picture it: his stern expression pinched with lines of concern as he spoke to you, like he cared about you. “That guitarist is terrible,” you said, then you frowned. “I feel bad for saying that actually.”

“What are you doing,” the Doctor said, and you heard the sound of familiar buttons being pushed in the console. “Are you okay?”

“Oh Doctor,” you drew out the word and ran a hand through your hair. You looked up, and suddenly the world was much bigger. You realised you had slid down the wall, and were now sitting on the pavement. “I’m out,” you slurred. “With friends,” you looked around you, trying to find them, before you remembered that they were inside. “I’m alone though.”

“Y/N-”

“Doctor,” you interrupted him, but you’d barely noticed. “I…” The streetlight was the only thing that provided any noise, buzzing away slightly. You wondered why it was making sound, maybe the bulb was running low – did streetlights do that? You didn’t know.

You could hear murmurs of the merry goers inside the pub, the sound of an off-tune electric guitar and ecstatic drums. It seemed so distant from you, as if it lived in a separate world.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you said, and it was soft, almost like a whisper.

There was silence on the other end, and then, just as soft, the Doctor spoke. “I’ll be there in ten seconds.

And then he hung up.

You glanced at the sky, and you counted. There weren’t many stars here, there was too much light pollution, and it clouded into your vision.

It took seven seconds, only seven, and the familiar whir and groan of the TARDIS engines pulled you off of the pavement. There she was, in all her glory; the TARDIS, standing at the end of the street.

You wobbled as you walked towards it, but you didn’t need to. The door swung open, bright light pouring out from it. There – right there, standing in the glow of the light, looking ethereal, was the Doctor – your Doctor.

You brightened immediately. “Hello stranger.”

He held his hand out towards you, and you reached out to take it. You knocked your foot against the threshold and toppled forward. Your body jerked forward and you let out a small yell. Suddenly the metallic floor was suddenly very, very close.

Warm arms circled around you and pulled you up. The ground was gone from your vision, replaced with familiar blue eyes. Your heart did a little summersault and you smiled.

The Doctor had caught you.

And he was still holding you.

You patted against his chest, you weren’t familiar with a Time Lord heartbeat, but his hearts were hammering away inside that chest of his. “Sorry about that,” you giggle. “Oh! Was that parkour?”

The Doctor’s mouth was set in a grim line, even as his eyes shone. “You’re drunk.”

He let you go, and you continued to make your way into the TARDIS. “I’ve been out.”

“So you’ve said,” you heard the door shut. “How come?”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just ask me why I was out?”

He raised an eyebrow of his own, and his bushy eyebrows made the look more effective than yours. “Can’t I just go out? You’re not my keeper Doctor.”

“I didn’t think I would hear from you again, so, this is surprising.”

You flopped into one of the chairs, and you thought about the last time you had seen him, with cold angry eyes and dark shadows. He didn’t look that way now though, he looked kind, he looked tired. “Ooh,” you said, and you chewed your lip in thought. “Oh I was mad with you.”

He gave you a small, sad look. “I know.”

“You had been,” you mouthed over a couple of words, trying to find the right one. Your mouth felt heavy, and it was difficult to get anything out. “Not very nice,” you smiled triumphantly, glad to have made your point.

The look he gave you was almost broken, and your expression fell. You didn’t ever want him to look like that, you loved him, how could you stand that?

You paused, your mind whirring over that thought. Had you ever thought that before? That you loved him?

You slotted it into place, it felt right. It felt like the truth.

“It had been a terrible day,” he commented, and he seemed so pained by that. It was then, in the haze that was your mind, that you finally worked it out.

Of course he had cared about that town, about those people.

You’d been foolish to think otherwise.

So had you been cruel that day? You thought so, on some level. You hadn’t been very considerate to him, and were so blinded by your own anger, your own grief, you hadn’t thought to be considerate.

Then again, the Doctor had the communicative ability of a wooden pole, so your anger, at least, towards that, had been entirely justified.

You made grabby hands towards him. He came forward and crouched down in front of you. You leaned into his chest and mumbled a soft ‘I missed you,’ too quiet for him to hear.

"You know," you said, thinking about it, thinking about how he couldn’t even tell you that he cared for you. "I wouldn't have been so upset about it if you had just been more empa…" you tried to form the word with your mouth, but you couldn't fully remember how. You settled on a different word. “Kinder."

"I wasn't a very kind man that night," he admitted.

"No," you agreed. "But, I don't think that's completely a bad thing. No one's perfect," you found the words were easier to get out than they were earlier. Like your mouth was cooperating. "I think - just as long as you try to be better, as long as you try to be kind, maybe that's enough. I think that's all any of us can be."

The Doctor hummed, but he didn't say anything

You looked up. "Hey Doc?"

He looked down at you. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Can you try? Try being more kind?"

The Doctor traced his thumb up and down your cheekbone. It was the most physical affection you had ever gotten from him, and you leaned into it. "For you, I'd do anything."

You laughed brightly, your brain going to a ridiculous, heartbreaking thought. "Careful Doctor, you're two steps close to giving out a love confession there."

The Doctor pursed his lips, but he didn't say anything. His eyes had widened, as if you had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

And absurd, wild thought, crossed your mind. "Wait," you gasped, pulling back so you could see him clearly. Your head spun for a moment, not liking the sudden change "Do you love me?"

"Alright," the Doctor began to stand, helping you as well. "I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"No wait Doctor, don't do this whole 'deflect and never answer a question thing,' because if you love me like I love you-" you clamped your mouth shut.

You'd just confessed your feelings to the Doctor.

The Doctor had frozen, his body rigid beside you. "Tell me that when you’re sober."

You pulled yourself out of his grip, turning so you could face him properly. His eyes were wide, hurt, like they had been burned millions of times before. Despite that though, they seemed... almost hopeful.

You spurred on. "Of course I am," you said. "But that doesn't make what I'm saying any less true. What do they call it? Liquid courage?"

He gave you a look. "I would have gone with slow acting poison."

"Well I do you insufferable man, which is why I was so mad. I love you, and I'd felt betrayed. How was I supposed to react?”

He held your face in one hand, and you leaned into him. “I’m…” he struggled to get out the word. “I’m sorry, and we’ll speak about this properly, when your head is clearer-”

But it was clear right now, it was like he’d thrown you a line, pulled you to shore. It was clear enough for this.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “Talk to me.”

He sighed, looking more pained than you had seen him before. “You were right, that day. It was awful, I didn’t know that fire was coming, and by the time I realised, I could only get you.”

“So why did you make sure you saved me then?” You asked, then amended. “Beyond that whole duty of care stuff?”

“It was a choice,” he said. “Them, or you.”

The words settled into you. You didn’t have the ability to properly process it, but you knew it was big. “Oh,” you breathed.”

“And I would choose you,” he said. “Every time. Over anyone, over anything.”

“That’s dangerous,” you said it quietly, but a thrill went through you.

“I never wanted you to feel the weight of it all. Sometimes I can’t save everyone, sometimes I have to make difficult choices, and, to see you live with that…” he trailed off that thought. “I’m sorry. But I always cared, always.”

You nodded, and, despite yourself you let out a yawn. “Oh,” you said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

He gave you a rueful smile. “We’ll have to have this conversation again, won’t we.”

You nodded. “Oh yeah, most definitely,” and you rocked forward, even though nearly all your weight was already resting on him. He held you steady, and his hand still hadn’t left your face.

You pulled away so you could hug him, burying your head into his chest. He held you back, but his arms were awkward, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “It was awful,” you said.

“I know.”

“Please just be honest with me, next time,” you tried to match your breathing with his hearts, but they were beating too fast. “I couldn’t bear to go through that again.”

“You’re staying?”

You pulled back, and saw that his eyes were glassy. You swallowed. “If you’ll have me.”

There was a moment where he just looked at you, as if memorising every part of you.

“Of course.”

You jolted forward again, your legs becoming unsteady. The moment was broken.

You were still in the Doctors arms, and you let out an embarrassed laugh. “I think it’s bed time,” you said.

“I agree, let’s get you there.”

You took his arm, and he began to carefully lead you up the steps. You rested your head on his shoulder, and mumbled into his jacked. “Love you.”

He gave you a small, warm smile. "We'll talk about this in the morning, but, for what it's worth; and I you, Y/N."

#the doctor x reader #twelfth doctor imagine #12th doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #12th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #Elle: Speaks #opening Elle's vault #vault fic

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ashdoesfandomarchieved · 3 years ago

Note

I hear you like prompts? Well I am well known for. The List. *unrolls scroll* sick fic, jealousy, fighting suitors, hostage situation, hypothermia, use of safe word, spa day, ruddiger v Hugo

AO3

It’s midday by the time Hugo finally deems his companions worthy of his company.

They’ve been staying at a small estate in Galcrest, with some friends of Nuru’s family who were kind enough to put them up for the weekend.

The last few trials have been grueling--if Varian’s being completely honest--what with the cave of mirrors and the hall of memories haunting Nuru’s nights and Yong’s smiles and Varian’s everything. So a break in what their gang was affectionately nicknaming “the air kingdom” seemed in order.

The first few days go by fine--Nuru drags Hugo out to the marketplace, talking shop about swords and armory to her heart's content, while Varian and Yong scour the countryside and set off fireworks in the clear skies.

It’s exactly what their group needs to get back on track--a little rest and a lot of free time to relax and get to know one another better.

Then Hugo shows up for breakfast one morning and all of Varians’ optimism flies out the window.

“Whoa, are you sick?” Yong says, popping his head out of the pantry. “You look terrible.”

Hugo sends him an irritated glance. “No,” he says and then immediately sneezes. “I’m not sick,” he says, peevishly when they all continue staring at him in silence. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks.

Nuru places a hand on his flushed forehead that he immediately swats off. “You’re burning up,” she says with a frown. “Did you leave your window open last night?”

“More likely that he got it from town,” Varian mutters. He seems to remember a kindly merchant lamenting about his daughter coming down with a spring cold. Dammit Hugo.

“I’m going to heat up some soup,” Yong says decisively, already making a bee-line for the cupboards.

“I don’t need soup.” Hugo literally cannot sound any more like a sulky pre-teen right now. “What I need is for you all to stop ganging up on me.”

“What you need is a doctor,” Nuru mutters.

Hugo turns his scowl on her.

“How about this,” Varian says, once again playing diplomat between his two best friends, “Hugo eats the soup, and Nuru doesn’t make him see a doctor.

Hugo and Nuru continue to eye each other for a moment before Hugo mutters out an annoyed “fine.”

Varian has a feeling that today is going to be an exercise in not dumping his best friends.

____

About three hours into the “Hugo is pretending that he’s not sick” fiasco, Nuru has decided she’s had enough.

“I’m taking Yong to town,” she says, wrapping a scarf around the younger boy. “If the idiot won’t see a doctor, than I’m at least going to get him some medicine.”

Varian, who was the person who had to deal with Hugo throwing up in the bathroom half the afternoon, privately agrees.

“Is there anything I should do?” he asks, not exactly sure what to do with sick people. His dad never got sick and Rapunzel had about a million physicians taking care of her whenever she contracted some illness or another.

“Try and keep him in bed. I also left some tea leaves in the kitchen, if he feels up to drinking anything.” Nuru adds, halfway out the door. “I know you want to kill him most of the time, but it would be most inconvenient to hide his body.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best,” he says, dryly.

He doesn’t actually plan to antagonize Hugo--let alone kill him. Despite the fact that the blond still manages to annoy him on a daily basis, he’s also kinda friends with the guy now.

They’ve fallen into an easy companionship with mutual banter and annoyed antics that usually have their friends up in arms, but it works for them.

Besides, the guy just looked far too pathetic, dry heaving in the sink this morning, to give him a hard time.

A few minutes after Nuru and Yong leave, Varian makes his way to the room Hugo is staying in. At first glance, the place appears empty--bed unmade, small sitting area absent of life--but after a quick scan of the large room, Varian finds him.

Hugo sits on the window seat. His legs are drawn up under him and his head rests against the wall. The breeze filtering through the open window brushes his hair back from his forehead and makes the open collar of his white, unbuttoned shirt, fluttering slightly.

Something about the sight of him--flushed, exhausted, unguarded--twists something in Varian’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking too loudly in the quiet.

Hugo doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulder inch up slightly. “Hey,” he says back, eyes glued to something outside the window.

Varians’ eyes narrow in on the gooseflesh raised on the skin of his neck. With a sigh, he snatches a blanket off the bed and goes to Hugo, draping it over his shoulders.

Hugo turns his head at that, blinking up at him owlishly through round glasses. “Oh,” he says, like he’s just noticing Varian’s here. Which is concerning. “Thanks.”

Varian shrugs a shoulder, throwing himself on the other side of the window seat. It’s a large enough space--or maybe Varian’s just short--for the two of them to sit without touching. Not that Varian’s thinking of touching him.

An uneasy silence--on Varian’s part, at least--falls over them as Hugo continues to stare blankly out the window. His usually brilliant green eyes are glazed over, enhancing the flush that’s spread from his face, down his to his neck.

He sniffs a couple of times, nose wrinkling.

“Nuru wants you to drink some tea, I think,” Varian says, tapping his fingers against his knee nervously. “I can go get some for you if you wa-”

“It’s fine.” Hugo’s voice carries no intonation. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Varian says, in a very measured voice. The last thing he wants to do is upset the guy right now.

Hugo’s eyes shut. His lips press together tightly, but not out of anger. He looks like he’s just barely holding it together, and Varian doesn’t understand why.

Or, maybe he does. Varian used to be very open and free with his emotions, but over the past few years--since everything in Corona with his dad, the amber, Cass--Varian has gotten used to putting up shields around his heart. Vulnerability was a very scary thing, especially with those you cared about.

Hugo didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked to show weakness.

A particularly chilling breeze brushes through the window. It’s enough that even Varian is shivering at it’s touch.

He reaches out slowly and gently pulls the blanket around Hugo tighter. Hugo’s eyes open at that, watching Varian with an unreadable emotion.

“I think you should lie down,” Varian says.

Hugo shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Hugo-”

“The bed’s too soft,” Hugo exhales, sounding embarrassed.

Something in Varian’s stomach twists painfully. The year after prison hadn’t been easy, but most of it was just getting used to being able to walk around without having the entirety of Corona’s military breathing down your neck. The other half was getting used to how soft his threadbare bed in Olde Corona felt.

Varian gets it. He doesn’t know Hugo’s story yet, but he gets it.

“Lie down here then,” he coaxes, one hand coming up to cup his neck. It’s warm--too warm. The worry simmering in Varian’s gut flares.

“What, on you?” Hugo snorts, sounding--if for a moment--a bit like himself.

Varian feels his own face flush about as badly as Hugo’s face is right now. “Would it make you feel more comfortable?” he asks, voice pitching up high.

Hugo’s stares at him hazily, the fever most likely getting in the way of his higher processing powers. “Yeah,” he says, looking not quite all there. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

And then he flops face first into Varian’s lap.

Varian lets out a surprised laugh, one hand going to his hair. “Okay then,” he says, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“Mmphf.”

Varian snorts, coaxing Hugo into rolling over so that he can at least breathe. “Why do I put up with you?” he mutters, more amused than exasperated for once.

Hugo blinks a couple of times at him. “It’s weird,” he says at last. “You’re weird. I’ve never had someone who’s wanted to put up with me before.”

Varian’s hopes Hugo can’t tell his heart just shattered into about a million pieces. “Well, you do now,” he says, easing Hugo’s glasses off his face and delicately placing them on the nearby end table. “You have three people, in fact, who are willing to put up with your dumb ass.”

The blond squints up at him. “But you were first. That’s-” he gestures gracelessly with one hand, “-that’s important.”

Varian smooths his hair back from his forehead, mentally taking note of the amount of heat coming off his flushed skin. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” Hugo’s eyes close. “You keep doing that. Surprising me.”

“Well someone has to knock your ego down a few notches.”

A ghost of a grin. His eyes open again, almost as if he’s worried Varian has left in the few seconds he stopped looking.

“Hugo, go to sleep,” Varian chides. He runs his fingers through Hugo’s hair again, hoping it will draw him into sleep. “I can continue to surprise you tomorrow.”

“You’re surprising me now,” Hugo mumbles, but he’s becoming more and more pliant with each pet of Varian’s fingers through his hair. “Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?”

Varian swallows. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

Hugo’s eyes finally drop shut, breath evening out. Varian leans back against the wall, one hand in the blond’s hair. The weight of the other boy is both grounding and sends strange flutterings to Varian’s stomach that he doesn’t understand.

Hugo lets out a small snore in his sleep. It’s adorable. Hugo’s adorable, Varian realizes, much to his horror.

Another breezes brushes in through the window, setting the white, transparent curtains afloat in the air. Hugo shivers slightly, curling up closer around Varian.

His face is pressed somewhere between his thigh and stomach, one arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Varian runs his fingers through Hugo’s soft hair again and comes to two realizations simultaneously.

Varian has feelings for Hugo. Positive feelings. Fluffy, mushy, fluttering feelings that reside somewhere between his aching heart and the butterflies in his stomach and Varian wants to cry or throw up or maybe kiss the dumb blond until those feelings settle themselves.

Hugo might--a very, very tentative might, because Varian isn’t great at reading other people at the best of times--just might have feelings for Varian. Maybe.

That’s important, he had said, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted. You keep doing that. Surprising me.

Varian shuts his eyes. Yeah, he’s totally and utterly fucked.

#varigo #hugo vat7k #varian #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #my fic #my fanfic #tts #vat7k #writing prompts

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peaktotheocean · 3 years ago

Text

base

written for the witcher flash fic #026! on Ao3 here

Geralt wasn't feral, he was just down to his base. And being at the base meant there was still a foundation on which to build.

In all her years, Triss has had plenty of villagers burst through her door without knocking. Their urgency clouding their auras as they frantically begged her to follow them to where loved ones lay, most easily helped and some tragically not.

Never had she heard barely a knock on the door but rather just a thud to the ground.

Apparently, her future charge hadn’t even been able to make it to the entrance, let alone through it.

As she swung the formidable piece of wood inward, Triss saw why.

A huge Witcher had collapsed atop of a smaller man. Not much smaller in height, Triss realized, when she got a better look at him. He waved with his one free hand at her. The other wasn’t trapped underneath the Witcher’s bulk but occupied with stroking the long white hair.

“Hello. Are you free to help?” He asked as though, if she said no, he and the Witcher would somehow manage to get off the ground and walk to the next nearest village with no issue.

Not answering, Triss leaned closer to the Witcher.

She knew him, this Geralt of Rivia. Well, she knew of him and was acquainted with his brother, Eskel.

And if this was Geralt, then the other man had to be “Jaskier,” she said aloud. The bard blinked at her in surprise. Geralt however, bared his teeth at where her hands were hovering above them.

“Geralt!” Jaskier turned towards him and shifted so less of the Witcher’s weight kept him down. “Be polite!”

Geralt of Rivia did not want to be polite. Though, Triss could tell it was through no fault of his own. The Witcher’s eyes seemed to go right through her. Not the bard though. He saw Jaskier. He just didn’t seem…aware of it. That might explain the growling but then again, perhaps not.

“I’m not sure what’s wrong.” Jaskier’s worried tone was only making his Witcher more on-edge. “I found him like this in that prison and well, I got him here but he was like this the whole way.”

“What prison?”

“Yes, the castle over the hills. Whatever the name of that pompous liege lord of those lands are—“

“You got him through the hills in this state?”

“Ah well.” Jaskier’s cheeks tinged pink. “It’s possible that he picked me up and carried me most of the way.”

“Did he?” Triss eyed the Witcher's biceps. She would have paid good coin to see that. Quite a show indeed.

The area around Jaskier's eyes wrinkled and he closed them. His voice lowered and Triss realized that he was trying to manage his heartbeat. Keep it at a steady rhythm even while remembering the imprisonment so that Geralt stayed calm. “There were a lot of guards. He just took me and ran. And didn’t stop running. When I finally convinced him to slow down, he nearly collapsed outside your village.”

“Then you dragged him here," she said in amazement. The terrain was not simple between her and the village. Uphill and a rocky crop.

“Best I could.”

Content for now, Geralt ignored Triss in favor of taking Jaskier’s hand off of his head and playing with his fingers. He didn’t speak but he hummed to himself.

“And he was like this the whole time?”

“I didn’t realize." Jaskier averted his eyes.

Embarrassed, she thought.

"I had not seen him for months. I just thought perhaps he didn’t want to speak of his capture. But after an hour or so slung over his shoulder, I realized something was wrong.”

“Someone told me that you were a master of the seven arts.”

“None of those arts are medicine!” Jaskier tugged his hand away from Geralt to use both in order to cover his eyes. “He seems healthy. Just exhausted. And like this.”

“Feral. Nearly feral.”

“Feral? But he's perfectly calm like this.” Jaskier watched as Geralt took his hand back and just held it. He still hadn’t looked at Triss again but he also hadn’t bared his teeth at her so Jaskier considered it a win for now.

“I’m not well-versed in Witchers. But I know their trials were horrendous. They’re named after animals for reasons that I cannot guess. But perhaps he wanted to protect himself. And you. Or…” Triss took a deep breath and Geralt’s head snapped towards her. Jaskier gentled him with one hand on the back of his neck.

“Magic. I smell magic on him.”

“A spell.” Jaskier slumped down impressively for someone still on the ground. “There was a mage there. I, well." He looked to his companion again. "None near us were left alive."

A dead end then. Down that route anyway. Triss waved the thought away. No use trading in past possibilities. “Then think no more of it. Let me contact another mage who is familiar with him and —“

“Yennefer?” Jaskier asked and Triss nodded. She pulled a xenovox out of her robes and flicked it open. Geralt startled at the noise but Jaskier shushed him again.

"Yennefer. Are you there?"

"Triss?"

Inexplicably, Jaskier felt his shoulders come down at hearing her voice. Friends, they might be one day but certainly not now. Still he knew she cared, would help, had the power. Hopefully.

"I found him. Geralt's here. He's safe. He's with the bard but...he's fine," Triss tilted her head to look at Geralt, unsure how to describe him. "The bard is in a good mental state and healthy. Geralt could do with a good meal but his mental health...I can't explain. He smells of magic but there are no survivors who might be able to tell us why. He is..."

She looked to Jaskier for help and he held out his hand. He carefully watched Geralt as he spoke into the device. Still no reaction from the Witcher. So long as Triss stayed away, he remained content.

"He does not speak. He is distrustful of all others," Jaskier started with the symptoms.

"Is he fighting invisible demons or just real ones?" Yennefer sounded as though she followed a routine check-list of questions. Jaskier tried not to get his hopes up.

"Real," he said with certainty. "Everyone or everything he has reacted to so far has been real. Triss called him...feral," Jaskier said reluctantly. "It's not a word I'd like to use to describe him but I'm currently at a loss for any others." He let her think for a moment and watched Geralt discover the length of his own hair. He tugged on it lightly and stretched it out in front of him, white strands falling down to his face. Geralt shook his head at the feeling and while Triss giggled, Jaskier felt like crying.

Before he could stop himself, he raised the xenovox up to his lips again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't sure where we even were."

Yennefer's sigh was followed by reluctant support. "You did the right thing."

"I know the two of you--" Jaskier waved his hand even though Yennefer couldn’t see it.

"You can be angry at someone and not want them to perish in a dungeon, Julian."

If Triss was surprised to hear another one of his names, she didn't look it. Jaskier swallowed and went back to stroking Geralt's hair. Whether it was a comfort for himself or the Witcher, he wasn't sure.

"Can you?"

"He was looking for you, you know?"

Jaskier closed his eyes tightly. Geralt made a low worried noise but Jaskier only shook his head. “Don't tell me that."

"He is a Witcher. You can't keep them safe. Especially during war time. If he was going to continue fighting monsters during these conflicts, then it was going to be along routes where his bard was said to have been seen."

"His bard," Jaskier sighed. "That's what they called me when they caught me. The Witcher's bard. Then they took me down the dungeons and he was there. And when he saw me…”

"Aren't you? The Witcher’s bard," Triss interrupted.

"It's been. Well, I suppose that Yennefer might know how long it's been." Time had always been a foreign construct to Jaskier. The seasons helped but even they blurred together after a while.

"You're still his bard," Yennefer said firmly. "This proves it. One of his brothers has been looking for him. I was contacted by another mage who was paid to inquire."

"Good. He'll be safe with his brothers."

"Perhaps."

"Kaer Morhen, right?" Jaskier had never seen the castle in the mountains but his imagination always had a habit of making large assumptions. He pictured a keep built into the side of a mountain, hidden by architecture and low clouds.

Perhaps that was too fanciful. Geralt had given him only a few descriptions to go on. "He can heal there. Can you take us?" He asked it into the xenovox but directly it towards Triss.

"Triss, keep me updated." And just like that, Yennefer's voice was gone from the box. Jaskier held it back out to Triss who tucked it into her skirts.

"Not to the fortress," she explained. "It is not…Mages are not welcome there. But I can have the brother meet us at the village at the base of it."

Geralt sat at Jaskier's feet, poking holes in the the knotted wood floors. "How are they going to get him up the mountain in this state?"

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

As it turned out, the answer was that they were not even going to try.

Jaskier found himself standing in front of three Witchers, with his own pressed against his back. Geralt hadn’t growled at his brothers but he had sniffed Eskel when the Witcher held out his hand in front of him as if Geralt was a cautious pet. For a moment, Jaskier thought Geralt was going to lick his brother’s hand but instead he tilted his head and bumped it against his head, wanting Eskel to stroke his hair. Even while looking nauseous, Eskel obeyed.

“But I thought it would be the best place to go. Geralt has said many times that this is...his home,” Jaskier said helplessly. He looked to the North. Snow still covered the mountains and presumably the hidden keep, but he imagined that kept all year round. He knew from Geralt that he and his brothers left Kaer Morhen as soon as the snow let them.

“A home full of nightmares,” one of the Witchers muttered.

Geralt held onto Jaskier's hand with both of his. He didn't look nervous exactly but definitely tense. Jaskier wanted to run his fingers through that white hair in an attempt to calm him down but it felt like too intimate. Perhaps not in front of the other Witchers but certainly out in the open, right outside of this village where anyone could see.

The youngest spoke again. Lambert, Jaskier remembered. “We’re...safe there but we weren’t always. Between the pogroms and the trials...” He looked at the eldest Witcher. Their tutor, the one who raised them. That helped make them. “It is a begrudging home. We have no other options.” He sounded ashamed and honest at once.

“Oh.” Jaskier looked around again. Safety could mean a lot of things. A home that was safe didn’t have to also mean comfort or contentment. “So you think...”

“I think if he’s down to his...base." Eskel said the word so delicately. "The mountain will not be a place to heal. I am sorry.” The apology wasn’t directed to Jaskier but rather to Vesemir, the oldest Witcher who not had yet offered advice during the conversation.

The tension broke then and Lambert approached Geralt who sniffed at him eagerly. He looked at Jaskier for permission, who tried not to let any tears fall as he nodded at him. “Go on, Geralt. You know Lambert. I’ll be right here.”

That was all Geralt needed. He crouched down in a stance and Lambert froze. He copied Geralt and narrowed his eyes. Geralt’s smile was there but it was wild as he pounced on his brother, soundlessly cheering as they rolled away, closely followed by Vesemir.

Jaskier sat down on the ground, exhausted but content to watch them for now.

“It’s like he imprinted on you.”

“Eskel, right?” Jaskier held out his hand and although surprised, Eskel shook it. For all his bulk, he gracefully sat down next to Jaskier, legs out in front of him.

“He told you about me?”

“He kept his brothers close. But occasionally, I was given some information.” Jaskier smiled at the memory. Geralt didn’t talk much and usually not while grinning but when discussing his family? They were where his heart lived. “Of course he made me swear never to use your names in songs. In case you were wondering why you never heard your name sung out in pubs. Blame your brother.”

“I’d prefer to keep it that way but Lambert might take you up on your offer.” Eskel winced as Geralt pinned Lambert hard against the dirt. It took some convincing from Vesemir to let him get up and before they began the game again, Geralt looked over to check and make sure Jaskier still sat in the same place. “I’m sorry that this isn’t the end of your journey. We will help you find a place to keep him for now. Then we will reassess once it is safer.”

“I teach, normally. In Oxenfurt," Jaskier said conversationally as if they weren't watching two grown Witchers wrestle, with one having recently attempted to bite off the ear of the other. "But I can’t imagine such a loud city being conducive to his healing. I’m thinking sunshine. And quiet.”

“Oh?”

"I have a place in mind, I mean. If you're sure he can't stay here."

Eskel watched his brothers wrestle. For Lambert to be the cautious one was something new indeed. “He can’t. Not as he is. He needs someone with him and we’re needed on the Path. It is a dangerous time. Even before winter, there were contracts I had no time for. I must go back to those villages.”

“Yes, of course." Trust Geralt's brothers to be as noble as the Wolf. "Well, you’d be welcome. All of you. If you’d like to visit, I mean.” Jaskier wanted to beg Eskel to come with them. Lambert, Vesemir. Any of them. He didn’t know how to care for a feral Witcher. Geralt hadn’t wanted him last they met. And now Geralt was stuck with him. “I, for one, would be comfortable knowing that you knew Geralt’s location. That I didn’t just steal away your brother.”

Eskel laughed, “You begged a mage to help him and then brought my brother back to us. I can’t imagine that we would think you’d be trying to hide him away.” Jaskier only offered a weak smile at that. Eskel clapped him on the shoulder. The noise of the gesture making Geralt’s head pop up from where Lambert attempted to keep him down. “No, bard. For your safety, I will accompany you where you’d like to go. And then you will be welcome to correspond with us for whatever you might need. It is a task that I dare say you do not take likely.”

“I’ll take you there.” Triss' voice came from behind them.

“Are you sure?” Jaskier and Eskel asked at the same time.

She hadn't stopped watching Geralt. Jaskier couldn't blame her. If she knew him before or at least knew of him, it was...unsettling to say the least. He was sweet, of course. He was still Geralt. But just...less, somehow.

Geralt would look them in the eye but not see them. Open his mouth with no intention to speak, only sounds. Jaskier liked Eskel's diagnosis more than Triss'. Geralt wasn't feral, he was just down to his base. Something for Jaskier to remember before those instincts kicked in again and he found himself being thrown over a shoulder yet again.

But being at the base meant there was still a foundation on which to build.

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

It was too short a time before Triss had settled them at the cottage by the sea. She had already left to go find Yennefer. Jaskier only had Eskel and Geralt now, and he wasn't quite ready to watch Eskel leave.

“How can I find you if—“ He cut himself off, looking past Geralt to the horizon. His Witcher was sitting on the sand and staring out to sea. What he saw, if anything, Jaskier wasn't sure.

“If what, bard?” Eskel asked gently.

“I was thinking if he gets better but I suppose he’ll know how to contact you or find his way up the mountain again."

“Having second thoughts?”

Jaskier shook his head. He had never. Not about Geralt. He had left because Geralt had told him to. He figured that the kindest thing he could do for the Witcher was listen to his wishes. “He doesn’t like me. Your brother, I mean.” He took a deep breathe. Perhaps he should have mentioned it before Triss set a protection spell over the cottage. “The last conversation we had, he told me that he never wanted to see me again.”

“Geralt has told me that at least two dozen times in all the years I’ve known him. You can’t take it personally.”

“I don’t have another option. Or the— forgive me— benefit, for lack of a better word, of many years left on this Continent in order to find our way back to one another. He holds all the cards and best decks to boot.”

“What do you fear?”

The waves crashed relentlessly against the shore as Jaskier pondered his answer.

“That he will wake up one morning, realize who he is with, and curse me for not trying harder to get him his life back.”

“Bard— Jaskier...”

Jaskier only shook his head. “I asked him to go to the coast with me once. He said no. This is not what I had in mind.”

Eskel’s voice sounded far away. “No, I imagine not.”

“You’re sure you won’t stay?” Jaskier tried one more time. Eskel had stayed with them long enough. He recognized the look in the Witcher's eyes. The Path was calling and wouldn't take no for an answer. “He took to you better than anyone else.”

Eskel only shook his head. He got up off of the sand and wiped down his pants. He clapped a hand on Jaskier's shoulder, not even flinching when Geralt's head whipped around, eyes narrowed. He relaxed when he saw that again, it was just his brother. "You keep him safe.”

“Keep yourself safe. Come back to us.”

"You know, you would have our gratitude if you didn't already. For your songs. And finding him."

"Of course." Jaskier looked away again.

Eskel wanted to stay. He wanted Jaskier to understand how special it was for a Witcher to trust a human. How special Jaskier was to have earned that. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to let himself.

Returning would be a reward for a long few weeks on the Path. He’d stay as close as he’d let himself.

“I’ll be back for his birthday, all right?”

Jaskier nodded. “Right. After Belleteyn then.”

“It’s only a few months.”

Eskel watched as the bard steeled himself with an inhale and managed a smile. “So long as you bring him a cake. Cooking I’m all right with but certainly not baking.”

“It’s a deal.”

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

"No, darling. That's just a cat. What a sweetheart, see? Hear the purring? Isn't it, nice? I-- Oh!"

Jaskier found himself being held against Geralt's chest. He tried not to let himself sink into it. He refused to be that selfish. He could just be happy that Geralt wasn't hissing at the poor puss.

But then Geralt's chest shuddered and began to vibrate. After a few false starts, the purring became steady and loud and Jaskier watched Geralt with wide-eyed amazement.

It was all Jaskier could do to not fall asleep against the purring Witcher.

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

Geralt's brow furrowed just slightly. As if he was trying to remember how to concentrate on something. It seemed to strengthen as Jaskier put a hand on his arm but that quickly, recognition left his eyes.

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

Jaskier sat up in bed. He knew the shadow at the door was Geralt but--

"Geralt?" He tried.

The shadow came closer and Jaskier's heart sank at the unfocused golden eyes searched around the room for him.

"It's all right. I haven't gone anywhere. Except to bed, I suppose."

Geralt said nothing. Just waited.

"Come on then," Jaskier offered quietly. "You need sleep, regardless of what's going on in that head of yours. Your brother should be here tomorrow, you know?" Acting before he could overthink the boundaries he had set for himself, he kissed Geralt’s forehead and let the Witcher settle in next to him.

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

Where was he? Nothing about this place looked familiar but it smelled...safe.

Jaskier. It smelled like Jaskier.

Geralt let the sleep pull him under again.

The next time he awoke, the scent hadn't changed but he had.

He remembered little but he knew himself. Jaskier. He hadn't...been himself. Why?

Rolling around with Lambert.

Yennefer's voice.

A dungeon.

Geralt sat up with a start, head beginning to ache. He didn't move though.

Jaskier was in his bed. Next to him.

No, not Geralt's bed. It smelt more like Jaskier.

Geralt was in Jaskier's bed.

"Some mornings, I wonder if you wouldn't have just been happier being left at Kaer Morhen," Jaskier murmured, pushing Geralt's hair back and away from his face. "But then again, you've already been left with Witchers once in your life. I suppose I couldn't do that to you again. Not if I could help it."

Geralt kept quiet. This was not a tavern room that he and Jaskier had shared, that much was clear. His eyes followed Jaskier's fingers but he said nothing.

“I’d like you to remember yourself again but at the same time there are some memories I’d rather you not have to re-live. Yennefer said she found the name of the mage in the dungeon so hopefully there are notes somewhere. But she's not optimistic.” Jaskier sighed. He smelled...not sad, not exactly. But he wasn't hopeful.

He brightened up a bit, just for a moment. “Your brother should be by any time today. Perhaps that’ll help.”

Brother? Geralt kept his facial expressions blank. Eskel or Lambert? What year was it?

His brothers knew where they were. So did Yennefer. That was something then. But it was not the Path, that much he knew. They had never stayed in such a nice room as this on the Path. Nor were they in court though.

Flashes of an unknown castle came to him.

The dungeon again.

Jaskier's frightened face.

No, if Geralt had his way, they would not return to any court for quite a long time.

Then he smelled something else. Familiar, just as safe as Jaskier.

Eskel.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asked. If he expected a response, he didn't show it. And Geralt stayed put in the bed.

Even when there was a knock at the door and creaking from the hinges, Geralt did not move.

He watched Jaskier stumble towards the main room of the house.

“Hmm.”

Eskel.

“I never thought I’d be excited to hear that noise,” Jaskier laughed but it was a quiet, sad exhale. It sounded wrong. Still Geralt didn't move. He wasn't sure how to. Or what he would do after figuring it out.

"No change then?” Eskel's voice was low and Geralt wasn't sure how, but he knew that Eskel and Jaskier were leaning in close to one another.

"Every once in a while, his eyes..." Jaskier paused, gathering his thoughts. "I'll think he'll do something or his eyes will seem like they really comprehend me instead of just...going along with it. I can't tell if it's muscle memory or something similar. He'll brush down the horse, if I ask. Gather wood, if I'm in eyesight. Set and check traps but only if--"

"Only if you're with him. So he hasn't hunted at all by himself?"

At the suggestion, Geralt fought back his instinct to freeze. Why would he leave Jaskier by himself just to hunt? Then he remembered Jaskier was safe. He had left his bard to hunt many times before.

Before the dungeon.

Jaskier's scream as he reached towards him.

A mage cackling.

Geralt centering himself as much as he could to gather his strength to fight.

Losing himself.

Again, Jaskier's voice from the main room bought him forward in time.

"We've tried it a bit with varying levels of success. Me staying in the house didn't work cause he couldn't see me. Outside was a little better because he could smell me but he'd get too distracted. It's not something we do often, let's put it that way."

Geralt couldn't bear to hear the descriptions of his former self. The shell of Geralt. The bivalve of Blaviken. He willed his hands over his face but they refused to move. He wanted control. Gods.

“Is that his cake?”

“I figured that he deserved a treat. You both did.”

“It’s so ridiculous. I love it!”

“Of course you do, bard. Now where is my brother?”

"Through to my bedroom. I think he had a nightmare last night. I couldn't tell, quite honestly. See if you can coax him out and we'll eat."

"Cake for breakfast?"

"It's his birthday!" Jaskier sounded insulted on his behalf.

My birthday.

Geralt finally moved, feeling his fingers against the quilt.

"You're awake." Eskel sounded pleased. Geralt managed to meet his eyes. His brother stopped his tracks, voice lower, gentler than Geralt deserved.

"Oh, I see. You're awake." Eskel leaned in closer and Geralt could smell his excitement, his fury, his everything. “How long have you been awake, eh, Wolf?”

The smell turned bitter now. And Geralt couldn't have that. He couldn't. Not with his brother. Or his bard. He had to try.

“This morning,” Geralt croaked out, throat screaming, muscles taut. “I woke up this morning, I swear it. I knew nothing and just—“

“You just stayed quiet," Eskel finished for him. He soothed Geralt, running a hand down his back. "I'm sorry to have frightened you. I was worried for the bard."

"I don't. I didn't know anything.” Geralt couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice, so weak and uncertain. “Where are we?"

"It's all right," Eskel whispered. He left Geralt's side to pull off his boots and Geralt wanted to cry out. Perhaps even if he could have, he would have resisted the urge. He was grateful that he didn't have to find out. Eskel came back to him at once. He climbed into the bed and gathered Geralt in his arms.

“How long has it been?” Geralt asked, scared to know the answer.

“I saw you last midsummer solstice. The bard came to us when winter had nearly gone. He had you in tow. Along with Triss Merigold.”

“Triss?” Geralt remembered Triss. Gods, he had growled at her.

“You’re lucky that she was the first mage that he ran into after finding you. Rescuing you more like.” Eskel's hands against his skin felt like a balm. Geralt leaned back into him. “She took you both to us right away.”

“And then to here? Where are we besides...” He could smell the salt air from their room. So close to the coast. Just how Jaskier wanted. Perhaps not like this though.

The ocean spray.

Jaskier's laughter turning into tears.

Geralt panicked. Jaskier hurt? No. Jaskier sad. Sad.

Sad.

“The war has escalated. We did not think…the keep was not the right place for you. Not in that state. You needed to be with your bard.”

“My bard…”

Jaskier.

Commotion came close by the door and Geralt looked up. He closed in on himself but still Eskel didn't let go of him. He refused. If anything, he held on tighter.

“I— Eskel?” Jaskier’s eyes widened. “Geralt?”

His bard's scents had always been overwhelming. How one human could feel so many things at once, Geralt didn't know.

Jaskier reached out a hand as though he wanted to touch Geralt, clutch him in a hug but he stopped himself. He had too much momentum though so he changed his directions and grabbed tightly into Eskel.

“Oh thank you.”

Eskel met Geralt's eyes over Jaskier's hair. “An old Witcher incantation. Vesemir found it and I wanted to wait. I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he lied gruffly.

“Geralt.” The difference in Jaskier’s mannerisms was painful. Something was wrong. Geralt had to fix it. “I’m so so—“ he didn’t get his apology out before Geralt snatched him and held him against his chest.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.” Geralt’s word were choked, muffled against Jaskier’s hair.

“He needs to breathe, Wolf.”

Geralt's grip on Jaskier eased but he didn't let go, not entirely. Jaskier didn't seem to mind. He stayed squished between two Witchers.

"We're not having cake for breakfast," Geralt grumbled.

"But it's your birthday!" Jaskier placed his hand on his chest, as if Geralt's declaration gravely offended him.

"Feel free to go off and find your own meal then," Eskel ordered. "Me and the bard deserve some chocolate cake."

"Chocolate?" Geralt asked. His head perked up of its own violations and Jaskier stifled a giggle. "Hmm."

Eskel reached over Jaskier and tapped Geralt's nose. "Use that scent, Wolf."

"And then what?" Jaskier asked. "Geralt, are you--" Eskel held up a hand before he could ramble. Geralt was grateful. He tucked his face into Jaskier's neck, breathing deeply.

“He might need some more time to adjust.”

“Oh. Do you—“

“Here, bard. You should both stay here. Heal. It wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t brought him as far as you did.” Eskel leaned away only to dig a pouch out of his pocket and set it on the table next to the bed. "We've got plenty of coin right now thanks to someone's songs still flooding the continent. Consider it your percentage of the profits."

"Are you sure?" Jaskier bit his lip, watching Geralt, forgetting after all this time of not having to worry about Geralt listening to him, that he could hear him from such a short distance away. "I don't want him to be uncomfortable. Perhaps you--"

"Here," Eskel insisted. "There's still trouble brewing out there. It's best not to move either of you."

"Either of us?"

"Did you think we'd let you go so easily? After what you've done for Witchers?"

"I don't need...a reward," Jaskier spat out, "for taking care of your brother. Anyone--"

"I'm not talking about Geralt. I'm talking about your songs." Geralt's arms tightened around Jaskier's waist as Eskel spoke. “But no, anyone wouldn’t have helped a Witcher. You did.”

"Oh."

"It's not about owing a debt. Think of it as...camaraderie. Kinship.” Then, feeling a bit brave and perhaps annoyance at Geralt, Eskel added, “We expect to see you at Kaer Morhen next winter. If the university can spare you.”

"All right. That sounds...that's good." He sounded unsure. Geralt hated that he could smell that on Jaskier. He let out a whimper that had the men above him freeze.

"This is your home, Jaskier. You're not leaving and neither is he. I know my brother can be stubborn," Eskel said firmly, fully aware that Geralt could hear him. "But he would not jeopardize your life. Not now when war is crawling over the Continent."

Jaskier looked as though he wanted to argue again but Eskel put a hand on his shoulder. "I promise you. This is the safest place for both of you right now. Besides, we cannot be sure that Geralt won't fall back under his trance so soon."

"Do you think your cure will not hold?" Jaskier asked nervously.

"I can't be sure." Mostly because I did not cure him in the first place. Eskel didn't say. He looked at his brother who shrugged. “Promise you’ll stay?” Eskel leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Jaskier’s forehead.

“We’ll stay. Until we cannot,” Geralt promised.

“Our bard already saved you once this during war, brother. You best watch him.”

“I’m right here!”

“We know.” Eskel and Geralt said at once. They turned to Jaskier at the same time as well and his eyes went wide. He shook his head and grabbed a hand from each of them.

"Come on, you two. I think if anything, we've earned some cake."

#the witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #the witcher flash fic #i don't like chocolate or cake so that's why i didn't really focUS ON IT SORRY

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someonestolemyshoes · 4 years ago

Text

Toys Shouldn’t Move

This is a repost of an old.....frankly chaotic fic I wrote a few years ago, but as I was asked to repost some of my old Ackerbabies fics, I figured this one can see the light of day again. Whether I think it should be in the public eye again is. Debatable.

Anyway, this is technically part of my Our House collection and I’ll archive it in there as well, but I figured since it’s, um, Different. It can have a place of it’s own too!!

Warning: Non-graphic depictions of sex between inanimate(?) objects.

They’re getting ready for bed when Levi brings it up, and he only thinks to mention it because Hange is wearing a slip of a nightie, the cool, thin silk see-through at the breast, riding high over her thighs. On any normal day he wouldn’t hesitate, but today he feels dirty. He freezes when her finger grazes over the skin of his chest, body rigid, and at Hange’s questioning gaze he says, “the Cookie Monster fucked Elmo.”

It all started with that fucking Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster toy.

Levi wasn’t fond of them, those fuzz-coated, boggle-eyed, shit-your-pants scary robots marketed to brats as young as his own and he can’t see the attraction, doesn’t understand the way Samson claps his hands and spits his laughs, all wide-eyed and full of joy as the fluffy little demon chuckles it’s weird, demonic laughter and rocks in time to the wriggle of Samson’s grubby, tickling fingers.

“Toys shouldn’t move,” he says one day, arms crossed and brow furrowed as Hange takes to the floor and sets the doll in motion. She rolls her eyes, and puffs a lock of hair from her face.

“Say hello to the twenty-first century, short stuff,” she says as Samson dives for the Cookie Monster with a kind of undignified gusto Levi rarely sees in him. Hange stretches to her feet, bends to press a kiss to Levi’s pouted mouth and scoops Leelu out of her chair.

“If this is the twenty-first century, I want out.”

Leelu stretches tiny, sticky fingers and grabs at the air in his direction. Levi lifts her out of Hange’s grip, and settles her on his hip, smudging a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. She points down at Samson, points at the god-forsaken toy and says, loud and clear and bossy as ever, “want one.”

Hange barks out a laugh, rests her hands on her hips and tips her chin up and guffaws, entirely at Levi’s expense, like there is anything remotely funny about the idea of having not one, but twoTickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster’s shrieking their laughter all day, every day, for the foreseeable future. Levi chucks Leelu’s cheek and scowls.

“Little traitor.”

In the end, they compromise.

On the plus side, no more Cookie Monster robots, and upon hearing those words Levi is about as happy as he can be with Leelu sucking the ends of his cravat between her tiny little teeth.

Instead, though, Leelu will receive her very own Elmo Live – in short, another hairy, beastly little android.

Hange unpacks the box while Leelu watches, eyes wide behind little, round-lens glasses, while Samson pulls tiny tufts of fur from his Cookie Monster and pretends he isn’t looking, too. Levi sips a cup of strong tea, resigned to this fate.

The minute the batteries are in and the switch is flicked on, Elmo rockets to life, voice high and nasal. He throws his head back and laughs, mouth gaping, eyes bulging, and Levi stares over the rim of his tea cup in horror as Leelu beats her palms together, and giggles along with the monstrous toy. Hange is smiling, wide and victorious and yes, a little malicious, too. She casts her eyes to the side, to Levi.

“I hate it,” Levi says, stiffly, blinking at the manic red bot. “I hate it so much.”

And then the Cookie Monster is off alongside it, bending at the waist and gyrating, busting out it’s awful laughter as Samson shrieks, nudges it to set it away again. Elmo is chatting with his mouth spread as wide as it goes, an empty, black pit yawning inside and oh my god, oh my god.

Levi thinks, as Hange steps behind him to rest her chin atop his head and the diabolical sniggering continues, that things absolutely, 100% cannot possibly get any worse.

Levi thought wrong.

It’s when he’s packing the day away that he realises his misjudgment. He crosses the room, scooping toy cars and Barbie dolls and Lego pieces from the floor and throwing them into the toy box, and on his final leg of the room, there they are.

They stand side by side, Elmo and the Cookie Monster, bulbous white eyes watching his approach. His hands are tentative as he reaches for them, half expecting the evil little bastards to spring to life in his palms, wriggling and chuckling, but they remain still even as he closes his fingers around their fat, hairy middles.

They remain silent as he carries them across the room, don’t utter a sound as he traps Elmo beneath an arm to make some room in the toy box, stay quiet as he drops them into place.

It’s only when he steps back, and turns to survey the room one more time that it happens.

The Cookie Monster starts it. His infernal laughter rips through the room making Levi jump, twisting and staring in absolute horror as the tiny beast’s body rests where he’d placed it, curled against the back of Elmo, chortling and grumbling phrases Levi can’t even understand and this is bad enough, this is the worst, most terrible thing he has ever witnessed in his whole life, bar none.

And then Elmo joins in.

Elmo shrieks, throws his mouth open and howls and the sounds are terrible enough, but there is one thing that is even worse.

Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster has one feature that interests and amazes kids, that has Samson’s eyes bugging out of his skull whenever he turns the damn thing on, and it isn’t his laughter, it isn’t his jolly little phrases, and it isn’t his touch-of-a-hand reactions.

It’s that he moves.

TMX Cookie Monster bends at the waist in jerky little movements; three down, and three back up, lather, rinse, repeat. It’s horrifying enough, watching the fuzzy blue devil do this alone, but right now his fat little body is curling and uncurling itself pressed right up against Elmo’s back.

And Elmo is still screeching, still belting out his laughter, head knocked back and mouth agape and Jesus Christ—

“They’re fucking,” Levi says to no one, staring at the toys where they sit in the box.

He is hasty to find the off-switch, and he drops them back in the box, shocked and speechless, before shaking his head and abandoning the room.

Hange frowns, pulls back and settles herself against the mattress, one leg folded neatly over the other.

“If you don’t want to have sex tonight you can just tell me,” she says, a note of humour in her tone. Levi shakes his head, shucks his jeans off and scrubs his hands through his hair.

“The toys,” he says almost desperately, and at Hange’s raised brow, he elaborates. “I was packing them away and they weren’t switched off, and the way they were lying…it looked like they were boning.”

“That’s,” Hange begins, blinking owlishly, “that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Levi doubts this, knowing the kinds of things Hange reads and watches to keep herself entertained through the day, but he doesn’t argue.

“Can we just go to bed,” he says instead, and Hange nods, shaking her head and chuckling low under her breath.

Sleep is difficult, dreams wrought with red and blue and high, squawking laughter.

It happens again the next night, but by the time he drags Hange out of bed and down to the living room they have stopped and they sit, silent and mocking in the toy box, unseeing eyes staring into the room.

The worst part is, it never happens to Hange. Night after night she clears away, slips every used and abused toy into the box, and night after night Elmo and the Cookie Monster remain still, and silent.

Years go by; Samson and Leelu age and outgrow the toys they once loved. and Elmo and the Cookie Monster are no exception. Leelu is five when the robots are packed in cardboard and hauled up into the attic, and Levi sets the box to rest with a smile. He’s never been happier to see the back of any inanimate object in all his young life.

New toys come and go, some horrifying, some begrudgingly kind of cool, and as the kids shift from childhood to their teen years the phones come along. Cheap, at first, with thick, fat buttons and black and white screens and Snake, and as the kids grow older the phones become more complex.

They flip, they slide, they twist, they have the entire alphabet squeezed onto individual keys and then they have no keys at all, the epitome of modern technology.

Samson is sixteen, tapping away at the screen of a phone too complicated for Levi to even comprehend, when Hange suggests they clean out the attic for more storage space.

It’s a good idea, Levi thinks – though it’ll create messes he has to clean up – as he re-positions the ladder beneath the hatch for the third time. He holds it still as Samson and Leelu clamber up, and it’s only when Samson yells, “whoa, some of these are from like, ten years ago!” that Levi remembers what demons they’ve buried in boxes beneath the roof of their house.

“I’m making tea,” he says, and Hange nods.

“I’ll grab a coffee before we get started.” She angles her head up the opening and yells, “be careful up there, guys,” before smiling, pecking a kiss to Levi’s cheek, and leading him downstairs.

“Man, Lu-Lu, you had terrible taste in clothes as a kid, too.”

Samson dodges the smack Leelu sends his way and crumples the voluminous snot-green dress back into the box

“I, on the other hand,” he begins, brandishing an item from his own box, but his face falls into a grimace at the sight of the bright orange tee and he folds it away with a quiet, “sure glad Mum and Dad don’t dress me now.

“Hey, shit-for-brains,” Leelu says. Samson looks over. “This is all our old toys.”

“Oh, sweet! I bet mine were all better than yours, too.”

Leelu kicks at his thigh as Samson crawls the space between then and he scowls, rubs the battered limb and settles beside the box.

“Hey, look!” He laughs, pointing inside, “the Cookie Monster!”

“He’s squashing my Elmo.”

“Well, yeah,” Samson says, “Cookie Monster comes out on top every time, sis. Everyone knows CM trumps Elmo any day. God, I even picked better toys than you. Nothing’s changed, huh.”

“You know, Samson,” Leelu says, cracking her fingers one at a time. “I’d hate to ruin a perfectly good day by shoving your egocentric fucking face through the attic floor, but I’m not above doing it.”

Samson splays his hands and nods his head in surrender, and then he blinks wide, glinting eyes and reaches for the box.

“Wonder if they still work.”

It takes one touch to set the Cookie Monster flailing.

Samson prods him with a finger and Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster thrashes in the box, his rhythmic bending and unfurling awakening Elmo, too. The pair of them screech and holler, decades old laughter ricocheting off the attic walls, and Samson barks, pointing a long finger and grinning from ear to ear.

“Randy little bastards,” he hoots, fishing his phone out of his back pocket and opening the camera.

Leelu stares, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“What the fuck,” she breathes, gazing in abject horror as her childhood crumbles before her eyes. Samson can barely hold the camera steady, shoulders shaking, tears leaking down his cheeks as the Cookie Monster—

“He’s railing him,” Samson cries, voice high and strained as he fights to get the words passed his laughter. He angles the phone to catch Leelu in the lens, body hunched and eyes bulging, as she stares in terror at their childhood playthings.

“This is the most sordid thing I’ve ever seen,” Samson wheezes.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Leelu says, quiet, monotonous, and horrified.

It takes a little longer before she thinks to switch them off, and when the idea finally springs to mind she hesitates to reach into the box. It feels dirty, touching them, and Samson wipes the tears from his face when the noise finally comes to a stop.

“I gotta show Mum,” Samson says, coughing out a few additional, choking laughs. Leelu follows him down the ladder in a daze.

“Mum, you’ve got to see this.”

Samson rockets into the kitchen, eyes alive, arm outstretched with his phone clutched in his hand. Levi sips his tea and raises a brow, gaze falling on Leelu as she drags her feet over the threshold and slumps into a chair. There’s something about the look in her eyes, a violated kind of shock that Levi has only seen once before, on himself, all those years ago, way back when…

Oh, no.

“Hey, Levi!” Hange laughs, setting her mug on the table. She peels Samson’s phone from his hand and turns it, tapping the screen. “Look what the kids found.”

There on the screen it plays, Elmo Live and Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster in all their sleazy glory. Levi jabs a finger first at the horror unfolding on the screen, and then at Hange

“I fucking told you,” he says, sitting a little higher in his chair to take one long, dignified slurp of his tea.

“My Elmo,” Leelu says. She looks at Levi a little imploringly. He shrugs a shoulder.

“It’s a long-standing affair,” he says. Samson claps him on the shoulder while Leelu buries her face in her hands.

“Taking it right in the childhood there, Lu-Lu,” Samson says, “just like Elmo’s taking it right in the—”

“Fuck the fuck off.”

“You didn’t believe me,” Levi says, listening idly as Samson and Leelu argue beside him. Hange replays the video and stares, laughter bubbling up in her eyes. Levi folds his arms, sniffing haughtily. “I told you those things were disgusting. Can we throw them away now?”

“No!” Samson wails, voice a little choked where his neck is hooked under Leelu’s arm. “You can’t punish them for love, Dad. I thought you were better than that.”

“Oh my god.”

“He’s right,” Hange says, grinning impishly, “I didn’t think you were the discriminating type.”

Levi scowls, then purses his lips.

“Can we just throw the damn things out?”

“I’ve lost all respect for you, Pops,” Samson says, and he tries to sigh, but his breath is gurgled when Leelu squeezes his neck a little tighter.

“Throw them out,” she says, “get rid of them.”

Levi kicks his way out of the chair, legs scraping over the kitchen tiles as Samson yells, strangled and desperate, “Injustice!”

Hange replays the video for a third time, tilts the screen first one way, then the other.

“It’s pretty impressive,” she says, “that they’re still working after all these years. And Elmo is way more flexible than I thought.”

Leelu tightens her headlock on Samson, choking off a snide, spit-heavy comment about stamina, and Levi drops back into his chair, tilting his head against the back rest to stare, resigned, at the ceiling. He listens to his children argue, to Leelu’s threats and Samson’s jeers, to Hange’s laughter and her half-hearted reprimands.

And to the monstrous, ungodly audio of toys fucking in his attic.

#snk #levihan #ackerbabies #my writing #im so sorry in advance to anyone who hasn't had the displeasure of reading this already #In my defence I was VERY tired #crack

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

The Studio - Min Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 9.8k words

Genre: fluff, smut, mild angst

Rating: 18+

Hello my little raspberries! Here we go with Yoongi’s studio one shot. I’ll try and explain as briefly as I can for those new to this: Kitten is the nickname Yoongi has given to the reader (read more about the nicknames here), so basically this is a readerxYoongi.

To sum up the context of the fic quickly without reading all the rest (including some stuff which hasn’t been published yet [if you wanna read it vote for Illicit Affairs *wink wonk*]), Yoongi and Kitten have been dating for months but Yoongi kept postponing stuff with her (much to Kitten’s dismay — more like utter desperation) until their schedule in Japan was done. When they do reunite, they basically live joined at the hip — pun intended — but unfortunately, since tour is approaching, Yoongi has to take a week to focus on his job, promising Kitten the weekend. As Friday nights falls, Kitten decides to come claim her prize, and she comes carrying a lethal weapon.

Description and trigger warnings: Lots of swearing. As usual there is unprotected sex (these two got tested before going bare, please be like Yoongi: be smart, get tested). Female masturbation (with bullet vibrator), Kitten acts up since Yoongi acts oblivious and indifferent (surprise: He. Is. Not.), Trauma from past relationship (Kitten has had a pretty shitty ex who ignored her needs and made her very uncomfortable about having someone go down on her), Male masturbation, Oral sex both male and female receiving, Sensation play and slight foot fetishism, cum play and cum eating (it was necessary), lowkey spanking, multiple orgasms, hinted squirting.

Word count: 9.8k

Here is my updated Masterlist!

The receptionist led you through a daedalus of rooms and glass doors. After a few turns you spotted the sign of the Rkive, nothing but darkness coming from behind the glass door. He was probably already at home, maybe with his girl. From what Yoongi had told you, Namjoon had been working from home for the last few days, only coming in for rehearsals, leaving shortly before dinner. You had crossed her on the lift once as she carried a weekender, smiling at you, before you both headed for the same corridor, stopping at neighbouring doors, both ringing the doorbells and waiting.

"You must be Kitten, uh?" She said, using Yoongi's nickname. You asked yourself how she knew that.

"Vixen?" You replied, guessing that she was the woman that Namjoon told Yoongi about.

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, I guess you can call me that too. Pleased to meet you." She said, introducing herself with her full name. Just as you shook her hand, introducing yourself, Namjoon came to the door in a pair of loose grey sweats and a white t-shirt, greeting her with a "hey babe" before he spotted you, waving cutely at your form before Yoongi opened the door for you, with a way less appropriate "fuck, I'm starving, come here" which had the couple next door secretly giggling as your needy partner dragged you past his threshold and smashed the door closed.

That was just two weeks ago. You went from a week of daily sex — with multiple rounds — to a complete caresty. You were almost ready to hump a streetlight like a stripper pole, however you thought you'd much rather surprise your man and knock at his door like a discreetly civilised young woman.

Lost in your thoughts you didn't even realise you had reached his door.

"Here we are, shall I ring?" The receptionist asked.

"Yes, please." You said with a polite smile.

"I think I've already seen you."

You nodded. "My firm works for yours. I have come here before." You confirmed.

"Oh, that makes sense."

Yoongi opened the door, his mouth composing a surprised expression, and then his signature gummy smile, which you mirrored. "You're here."

You nodded, mirroring his expression.

"Thank you, Mr. Kang." He said, holding his hand out for you. You caught it immediately as he led you through the door.

"That's okay, boy." The older man, quite surely a member of security greeted both goodnight and headed back for his spot.

"He's my favourite. Sometimes when his shift ends we eat dinner together. He's amazing." He said with a soft smile. He brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "How's the weather outside?"

"Not too cold, but the air is pretty damp, I just hope it rains. It's very foggy tonight." You said, taking off your coat.

He grabbed your face as both your hands were still caught in your sleeves, planting his lips on yours. "Lemme finish a couple things on this one then we're all set and we can head home."

"Are you the only one left?" You asked.

Yoongi nodded. "Normally it's me and Joon working late and heading back home together, but lately he's been going back home to Vixen. I've heard he's trying to get her to move in."

"Haven't they been dating for a couple months?" You questioned.

"So what. We've also been dating for a couple months but would you say no if I asked you to move in with me?"

You thought about it.

"Seriously?" He asked, scandalised at your hesitation as he headed back to his chair.

"I mean…!" You complained, trying to win him back. "It's just a couple months. I would take it easy, maybe first I’d start with staying for the weekend and then see if I can handle it during weekdays too, gradually. A bit at a time."

He acted as if he weren't listening.

"Yoongi!"

"Busy." He replied.

"You cannot not listen to what you don't like." You said, with a curious giggle.

"Call me when you're ready to say 'If you asked me to, I would move in tomorrow'". He typed, but it sounded more like a dramatic gesture than some actual typing. "Plus, I will unlisten to whatever you say that doesn't respect the I-love-you-I'm-a-sucker-for-you-Yoongi agenda."

You moved closer to his chair, standing behind him, bending down to his ear. "What if I put my lips, right here." You teased, "would you listen to me?"

He shivered and you snickered like a vicious predator.

"Uh?" You urged him.

"You won't distract me like this." He said.

"Not even if I said 'I love you, I'm a sucker for you, Yoongi'," you moaned in his ear, "not even then?"

He shifted in his seat, his lips parting. "No." He said, but his voice was extremely unsure, not even a glimpse of firmness in it.

"Don't lie to me." You murmured. Your hands spreading over his pectorals. He might not be as buff as some of the other guys, but he was secretly well built, especially on the chest area. You had personally tested that out.

He withheld a moan. "I'm not distracted."

"You're getting hard, Yoongi." You commented, noticing his bulge. You let your hands crawl lower, down his stomach, where his sweater met the waist of his slacks. "I missed you so much these past few days." You whined, trying to find the button of his trousers.

He slapped your hand. "Let me finish and we can head home. There you can tell me how much you missed me." He said, his voice almost sounding like a warning. "In detail."

"But I want you now."

"Stay put and wait."

You tutted and stood up. "Cockblocker." You snarled under your breath, sitting on the sofa.

"How can I cockblock you if you don't even have a cock?" He argued back.

You chuckled. "Shut up." You rummaged in your bag, smirking when you found your little personal pouch. "Plus, why would I need a cock when you can share yours with me?"

It was his turn to chuckle. "You, shut up." He said back at you. "If you were smart enough, you would keep quiet and be good, so I can finish my job and take you home."

The fact that you immediately thought of his place scared you a little. You absolutely understood Vixen and Namjoon's position at this point. With the guys' schedule, which includes working hours, trips, shootings, TV and radio appearances, then briefings and their own meetings and the oncoming tour, you started fearing how it would end up with you and Yoongi: your relationship had blossomed in fits and starts through Yoongi's determination and commitment, and your curiosity towards him. It had kept going because of the incredible attraction, the sense of balance and the sacred quiet and respect that you could reach in each others' company.

"Home where?" You asked, shutting up your mind.

He turned with his chair. "This should be enough to show you that Namjoon is right about having her move in. And that I would be right too if I wanted you to."

He wanted to. After he'd come back home from Japan, you had spent the rest of the week going back to his place after dark, having dinner, taking care of each other, sleeping together. The week after that you basically went back home only to grab a few things before going back to his. Then on Sunday he told you he had rehearsals at BigHit, and usually those go on till late, so he would be staying at the dorms, promising you he'd spend whatever free time he had with you and that he would see you in the weekend, when the rehearsals finish earlier and they have less disturbing timetables.

That's how you found yourself in his studio, on Friday night at 10pm.

"How long do you have left there?" You asked.

"Mh, maybe twenty minutes. I was just doing a little bit of fact checking and research for some references. Almost done."

"No listening?" You asked, testing for any catch in your plan.

"No, i don't think so, why?" He kept scrolling on his screen.

As you quietly took off your trousers, you chirped out a "nothing" shedding your jacket too in the process. You sat on his sofa in nothing but a formal shirt, an undershirt and your bra, your lacy panties doing little to protect your skin from the cold bite of the leather. You grabbed your disinfectant gel from your pouch and poured a dollop on your palm. After that you passed a wet wipe on your hands, carefully inspecting the underside of each nail. Once you were satisfied, you neared the bin by the door and got rid of the used wipe.

You sat back on the sofa and bit your lip, hesitating before moving to the next step. You still forced yourself to ignore your pouch, focusing on cupping your crotch and staring at the back of Yoongi's head. His place smelled amazing, something like patchouli and lavender and amber and pine. It was very male. Sometimes you could even catch a whiff of scotch.

You were wet.

It felt uncomfortable and somehow disappointing that he was there but he hadn't yet looked for you. Uncertainty made you desperate and eager for confirmation on his side. Maybe that's why you were here, acting like this.

The moment your finger slipped against your clit you huffed out a heavy breath, trying to keep quiet and making sure that Yoongi couldn't hear you quite right yet.

You did it again, trying to arouse yourself fully, until the wetness became unbearable. Not only it needed to feel wet, but to sound like it too. It took little, especially considering that you had accidentally deprived yourself because of a combination of work and stress and waiting for Yoongi. On the brink of sanity, you slipped your panties to the side, the sound of typing stopping for a second, which had you stopping your finger with the tip hovering at your entrance.

Yoongi started typing again, slow but completely absorbed in his work. You pushed your finger in, your mouth opening in a breathy sob, which Yoongi didn't hear — or that maybe he ignored.

Crooking your finger, you teased your g-spot, immediately flinching as you realised how it felt almost too good. The sofa creaked underneath you.

At his desk, Yoongi was going on with his work, completely oblivious of the misbehaving happening on his couch, however he almost started thinking of working from home.

Oh, so you'll be in the same house as Kitten, with a bed, a sofa and a bathtub, and you're gonna lock yourself in the studio and ignore her. Yeah, right. He thought.

Therefore, on with his work.

In the meantime you had surreptitiously taken off your panties, your legs still open just barely enough to fit your wrist. The process had been an exercise in control, since the leather seemed to have glued to your naked backside, which made it creak at every single inch of skin trying to part from the surface. Your hand was now free to roam on your pubis, cupping the skin and parting the labia, dragging two fingers along the slit, wetting them properly before inserting them. This time you did moan a short staccato sound, it lasted maybe half a second before you regained control of your vocal cords.

Yoongi's ears immediately picked that up, however he deemed the sound a sign of impatience or tiredness and dismissed it altogether.

Licking your lower lip, almost expecting him to turn around, you waited a couple more seconds before moving your fingers inside, crooking them. You bent forward at the precision with which you managed to find your sweet spot, the seated position simplifying the operation. Your mouth parted in a silent cry and your hips buckled, once more making the sofa crackle underneath you.

Yoongi started getting suspicious: he knew you had something going on, but he decided against asking. Ignorance is bliss.

He went on with his work.

You started getting seriously upset at his lack of recognition. With insufference and discontent coursing through your veins, you fished out a smaller pouch from your bag, quickly undoing the strings with your clean fingers. You extracted one of your favourite gifts to yourself, a small vibrator, a rather practical one you had taken from your bedside before you came to see him. You were almost sorry it was a pretty quiet one. You switched it on, enjoying the light buzzing it emitted. It was like listening to a mosquito fly around your ears. You seriously doubted Yoongi could hear it.

You placed it on your mound, without even letting it close to your folds or your clit. You teased the outline of your intimate parts, gently drawing the lines of your labia. You were very careful when you reached your clit, still a whimper escaped your lips.

Yoongi placed it immediately. He could recognise that sound instinctively. Usually it was connected to his tongue curling around your clit when he started eating you out. It was the first-lick whimper. The other circumstance was when he slid inside you particularly good, with that smooth, all-in-in-one-go kind of thrust. You were probably touching yourself.

He didn't know what to do with that information. He wanted to turn around and look at you, of course, but he thought that if he ignored you, you would probably get louder, needier and messier, and he was all in for that.

In the meantime you had started drawing circles on your clit, your breathing erratic and your spare hand going up to cup your breast. Your eyes were still glued to the dark mass of hair emerging from the chair right before you. "Yoongi." You called.

"Almost done, baby." He replied. He wanted to smash his head against the table. No man in his right state of mind would do this. He wasn't a genius. He was a masochistic fool and the worst part of it all was how disgustingly lucid he was in his reasoning. How he was trying to get you so desperate that you would scream and beg for his attention.

You were fuming: you turned the power of the toy to the loudest setting you had, the buzz now propagating in the room, your cunt so slick it was almost too loud for your taste.

"Yoongi, please." You cried out, your juices dripping on his sofa. And then you snapped, your whole body bending forward as you moaned "so good, Yoongi", your body too weak to remove the vibrator from your overstimulated nerve endings, your orgasm too sudden and overwhelming.

Still, no sign from Yoongi. The back of his chair was the first thing you noticed as soon as you recovered from your small black-out.

You switched off the toy, laying it on your thigh as you laid back against the back of the couch. "Yoongi." You called again, upset by his indifference.

"Mh." He acknowledged. That was suspicious. Quietly you parted from the sofa, kneeling down and starting to crawl towards him, not entirely trusting your legs to not give out beneath you; however your crawling had a limping pattern, your soaked hand close to your chest, clutching the toy in your palm.

You were perfectly quiet as you closed up on him, hiding behind the back of his chair as you listened. He was making a noise similar to a low purr, groaning under his breath. Your eyes closed as you listened to him carefully. You knew that purring moan, the rushed pattern of breaths. You moved to the side of his chair, peeking at his lap.

He was touching himself, his other hand combing his hair back and moving down the side of his neck, lingering on his chest. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his hips jerking up just a fraction of an inch with the tiniest thrusts. His hand looked glossy with spit and precum as he dragged it roughly from base to tip, where he gave two rolls of his wrist before heading down again.

It was his technique, milking upwards, double roll the palm around the tip and back downwards. It was the way he used to do it before you came around. Since then he had slowly grown accustomed to finishing by thrusting up into his fist, usually laying on his belly before cumming on your navel or kneeling, straddling your waist and spilling on your chest. He loved pressing his face between your boobs when he touched himself hovering over you, but he also enjoyed the view when kneeling over you.

Thinking of you like that had his lips parting in a slow, heavy breath that got you even wetter.

"Yoongi." You whispered delicately.

He didn't even get scared, he just opened his eyes and smirked. "You done with your little scene on my sofa?"

Cocking an eyebrow you sat on the balls of your feet, observing him. "Maybe I should go back home, where I can comfortably make myself cum on my plush bed without judgy, undeserving people around." You said with a petty tone.

He looked taken aback by your comment. "I had told you to stay put, still and quiet."

"Buy yourself a doll and she can do that for you. I've been staying put, still and quiet all week. I can assure you it's pretty boring." You reprimanded him, a bit upset.

"Are you horny?" He asked, slowing down his motion.

"I was." You clicked your tongue, catching his hand mid-stroke. "You lost your chance."

He chuckled mischievously. "You've had just one. You need minimum another." He ripped his hand from your grasp and started moving again.

"You were busy. How come you're jerking off instead of doing your fact check?" You asked, snarling a little.

"I finished my fact check but I didn't want to interrupt you. I reckoned I could use your little solo for selfish purposes." He said, groaning a bit as his slowed down movement reached a sensitive spot.

You wanted your mouth on him. You were ready to make him pay for it.

He stopped touching himself and moved his hand to your mouth to draw the line of your lips. You immediately opened up, slipping your tongue out to lick at his finger.

"Kitten." He breathed out.

You ignored his plea and sucked at his finger. His strong, slender, beautiful finger. He was enraptured by your expression: eyes closed, lips puckered around his knuckle. You looked peaceful. And beautiful. And well, erotic.

"Kitten, love." He murmured, turning his chair slightly, enough so that you could be more comfortable in your position.

You were finally facing his lap, his cock laying in front of you, covered in slick, so thick and delicious. He wasn't that long, but it balanced his body beautifully, the thickness and modest length making it the best dick you had ever taken in your mouth, which obviously made you twice as willing to suck him. All the time — not like frequency mattered.

With a bit of resistance on your behalf, he pushed his finger out of your mouth. "Are you that in love with my hands, Kitten?"

You pouted. "Tell me one good reason to take it away from me."

"I thought you'd like my cock better." He said, honest.

You frowned. "As if you deserved to get some after making me cum all alone, while you took advantage of my loudness."

“Are you angry at me, Kitten?” He asked. He knew it was a bastard move when he started it, but he hadn't thought it would affect you this much.

“A bit.” You admitted.

It was sort of hilarious to have this conversation while you were naked from your waist down, a bullet vibrator in hand and his erection laying out of his pants.

“Why are you angry at me?” He asked, being absolutely neutral about his state of undress. Unfortunately you weren’t an ounce as neutral as him.

You dragged the back of your hand up his calf, your knuckles grazing the soft stubble of his legs.

“I have been unfair to you, haven’t I?” He asked, caressing your head with his clean hand, tipping your chin upward. “I’m sorry, Kitten.” He said, holding your gaze. “I’ve missed you too, love.” He traced your lips. “I’ve missed making love to you.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” Your hand reached his crotch, scratching his thighs through the fabric of his trousers. “I’ve been wanting you all week, but i didn’t want to bother you. I kept reminding myself that you were busy, that I just needed to last a few days until it was the weekend and you could be all mine.” You bent down and kissed his knee. “But it took a toll on me, not hearing from you. Not having you near.” You pressed your face to his lower inner thigh. “You didn’t even say you love me.” You mumbled under your breath, feeling a knot in your throat.

“Oh, ____, love.” He bent down, trying to drag your face away from his knee, keeping you from hiding yourself. “I love you, ____. I love you, Kitten.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell remind you.” He cupped your jaw and pressed your mouth to his. “I love you, Kitten. I’ll tell you as many times as you need it, baby.”

“I love you too, Yoongi.” You murmured against his lips. “I’m sorry for being like this.” You said. It was a flashback to all the times you had to beg your ex to declare his feelings to you, to all the times you had had to ask him to love you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Kitten. Absolutely nothing, my love.” He whispered close to you face. “I’m not your ex, baby. I’m here for you.” He kept stroking your cheek. “If we keep going here we’re gonna make a mess, Kitten.”

“Is there any reason why we shouldn’t?” You asked, quiet and mischievous.

“I usually meet the guys here to record demos.” He objected.

You frowned. "It's not like I'm going to cause irreversible damage."

He pouted and nodded. Fair enough. “So…"

"Yoongi, please, I need to feel you in my mouth." You whined, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, sitting upright. "You sure, Kitten?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, now stand up and take off your trousers please." You said, tugging at the fabric.

He snickered and pushed his chair back enough to stand in front of you and roll down his slacks. He sat closer to the edge of the chair and you tugged at the hem, finally removing his trousers completely. Now you were free to make him open wide and kneel between his legs.

You suckled the skin of his inner thigh, your hands skimming his calves. At the moment, your toy was laying between your thighs, switched off as you waited for the best moment to bring it into the picture. "Do you want me?" You asked, looking at him from under your eyelashes, batting them slowly, your lips curled up in a cute pout.

"Of course I do, Kitten. I'm so hard for you baby." He moaned, stroking himself. He lowered the tip so that it was closer to your lips.

"Can I?" You murmured, almost desperate.

"Yes, Kitten. It's yours, love, you know it." He said gently, longing for you so ardently and so composedly.

You licked his slit with delicate manners. You looked like the elegant cat you had reminded him from day one. And then your lips wrapped up around him, sucking his bulbous head into your mouth, your cheeks wrapping so tight around him with the pressure of your sucking.

"Fuuuuck, Kitten, that's amazing, love. ____, you're gonna make me cum."

Grinning like the devil, you took the chance to swallow him almost entirely, leaving only an inch out, and making him roar with pleasure. "Yes, yes. That's one hell of a mouth, Kitten. That's so fucking perfect, ____. I fucking love you so fucking much, babe." You loved when he started to swear during sex, it turned you on in a manner you couldn't quite understand.

When you felt him start to pulsate in your mouth you pressed two fingers at the base and pulled him out.

"You good, Kitten?" He asked, panting, trying not to cry at the vulnerable situation you'd left him in. He was on the very edge, one more second and he could have cum. But he didn't press you, you just came up for air.

Little did he know it was absolutely intentional. And you intended to do it again. You played a poker face. "Yes, I'm good, why?"

"Just checking on you." He explained, stroking himself at the base.

This couldn't do. You caught his wrist gently, blocking it. "Lemme take care of it all, babe." You licked his tip seducingly. "You know I won't leave you hanging."

He smiled and threw his head back. "I am at your mercy, ____."

He had all the power in the world when he spoke your name. You eagerly returned to your ministration, this time blocking his palm on his tight, underneath yours, while his other hand kept toying with his neck and chest. Not that you noticed: you were too eager bobbing your head on his length, focusing on the lewd moans he emitted, on the swear words he growled against the headrest of his chair, where he was currently pressing the side of his face.

"Kitten." He whined, almost endearing in the delicate inflection of his voice.

He was going to cum. You pulled him out as fast as you could, quickly heading to his underside to lay the softest kisses of affection.

"Kitten." He growled, but this time it was no joke. He was getting worked up. A bit angry.

"What?"

"Stop teasing."

"Me! Teasing! How could I? My priority is my boyfriend, Yoongi, and his well-being”. You grinned, delivering a long lick from the base to his tip. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Kitten, I swear, if you’re edging me I’m going to make you pay for it.” He growled, fighting your grip on his hand.

You gripped his wrist harder. “This can go two ways, Yoongi. You let me do my thing on my terms, or I’m going to leave right in this second and go back home by myself tonight. Pick.” You used a tone so calm it sounded like the most sensual of threats.

He twisted his wrist gently, looking into your eyes, and lacing his fingers with yours, moving your joined hands to the armrest. With the other hand he gripped the edge of the chair behind his head. “Do your thing, Kitty cat.”

Smiling lasciviously, you placed open mouthed kisses to his inner thigh, moving from the left to the right side. You lifted your hand, previously on his lap, letting the edge of your nail draw a thin line from his hip to his knee to his ankle, where it met his sock. You were almost tempted to take it off and tease him there. Why not? You had the wipes to clean it afterward… Fuck it.

You caressed his ankle, teasing it with your nails.

“Kitten, that feels very good, love.” He moaned, squeezing your hand in his. “Want me to let go of your hand?” He asked.

“Maybe later.” You whispered, leaving sucking kisses at the base of his shaft. You blindly took off his sock. “Are you cold, baby?” You murmured softly.

“No, I’m shivering because it’s so good, love.” He praised you. “You are amazing, Kitten. Thank you so much for this, babe.”

You parted from his skin. “No need to thank me, Yoongles.” You licked his length. “I do it because I like it. Because it’s so good.” With your spare hand you tickled the underside of his foot, which had him tensing the muscles there, his whole leg jumping, trying to escape your sweet torture. “Too much?”

“Just… unexpected. Sensitive.” He hissed.

You removed your teasing fingernails.

“It’s– No, I liked it.” He clarified, his pretty face scrunched in a confused expression.

You smiled darkly. “I was thinking of this…” You placed your toy under his foot, switching it on on the lowest setting.

“Kitten. Fuck. Shit.” He growled. “What the hell!” He pressed his head against the back of the seat.

“Too much?” You asked, distancing it from his skin.

"No, good. God, Kitten. Just, please, your mouth." He begged.

You kissed his tip and swallowed him.

His back arched and his lips parted in a gasp. "Yes, love. Oh god."

The slight buzzing moved up towards his calf as you absentmindedly followed the outline of his leg. You were completely absorbed in pleasuring him with your mouth, squeezing him with your lips and tongue and stroking him with the tender skin of your cheeks.

"Please." He moaned, struggling under your assault. "Love you." He whined. "Let me." He was so hopeless, his broken thoughts exiting his mouth unfiltered.

You pulled him out, taking a deep breath, opening your eyes to look at him. "You look so pretty, Yoongi. You look so fucking high, babe.”

“Please,” he breathed, trying to grind up into your mouth.

“Come on, wait for me, Yoongi. I’m not done with you yet, baby.” You cooed, bringing the vibrator up to the inside of his knee, which made his leg start bouncing. Ever so gently, you brought the head of the bullet even closer to his inner thigh, making him swear under his breath. “I feel so good making you look like this,” you groaned, kissing his navel. “I know right now your head is so empty you’re only thinking about me. No drama going on inside your pretty head when I’m giving you head this good. ”

“Kitten, for the love of God.”

Just when you had reached his crotch with your toy-accidentally-turned-instrument-of-torture, you started again on the other side, from his knee. His hand was gripping yours viciously, his strong fingers constricting your knuckles with so much pressure you worried about him getting cramps right when you wanted him to feel only pleasure coursing through his body.

“I am begging you, Kitten. I ain’t too proud, please.” He howled, as you saw a glistening pearl of precum blossom on his slit. You immediately caught it with your tongue, using the occasion to suck his tip.

“Such a good boy. Lemme take care of you.” Your head lowered on him once more, this time not sparing an inch of him. Just as he quieted down from the deep moan he had just released, you moved the vibrator to the tender skin of his testicles, placing it there without pressure, which made the stimulation even more intense.

He growled your name. It was the most virile thing you had ever heard. You were ready to commit murder to hear him say it like that everyday for the rest of your life. The hand once tightly gripping the back of his chair was now hanging midair, as if ready to touch you. He caressed his sweaty fringe, combing his hair back and deciding on gripping the armrest instead of the back. You slipped him out once more and removed the vibrator.

He opened his eyes with the most pitiful expression he had ever made. “Kitten.”

“I know, baby, I just need to know if you want to cum in my mouth or if you have anything else in mind.” You said, tracing small circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

He noticed that you were still wearing your nice shirt from work. “Chest.” He murmured.

You grinned. You had never allowed any man to do that to you. You hated the idea of it, but when you did it with Yoongi for the first time you just saw him lose his mind at it, stare at you in admiration, like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and you just decided that the look on his face was a great prize for a relatively small sacrifice. Little did you know you would come to like it, the warm, sudden feeling of his semen sprinkling your naked skin, rolling down gently in the most erotic sort of massage you could ever dream of. Quickly, you let go of Yoongi’s hand, offering him the vibrator. “Hold it for me, baby?”

He simply nodded with a confused pout, his brain so fucked out that you giggled at how cute he looked. You undid a few buttons of your shirt to your stomach, then you stood up and took off your undershirt, slipping the thin straps off your arms through the hem of each sleeve and dragging the lower hem down from your waist, until you stepped out of it like a skirt. Yoongi looked a bit more lucid as you undid the clasps of your bra and removed the straps just like those of your undershirt, gripping the front of the bra and pulling it off from the opening of your shirt. Covered only in your white work shirt, you regained your vibrator from Yoongi’s obedient hand and joined your hand with his once more.

“Open it nice, I don’t wanna mess up the shirt.” He said, ever the caring, attentive one.

You slipped the shoulders off, the fabric slipping under your breasts and supporting them like some sort of a corset.

“Like this?” You asked.

He nodded. “Will you let me this time, please?” He said, his voice so fragile and broken that if you hadn’t already decided, he would have convinced you to offer him relief.

You let your actions speak. You started working the first few inches of his shaft, gently toying with the vibrator at the base, where his cock met his balls. His moaning soon became desperate, so incoherent that you doubted having one of the most talented rappers and songwriters in front of you. He looked like he didn’t know a word, like the best he could do were baby gurgles.

When you felt him begin to pulsate, you let him take the lead a little, choosing how deep he needed to go and how long he could keep going. You started teasing the underside of his cock with the side of the vibrator, running up and down the thick tendon there. “Kitten, I’m close.” He warned with a timbre so husky it almost scared you

You started going a bit faster with the up and down pattern of the toy. Your eyes were fixed on him when he started slowly moving his hips toward the edge of the chair with weak thrusts. He started opening and closing his mouth, gaping. His short groans became more frequent, getting higher and higher, his knuckles going white with how hard he was gripping his armrest.

“Now.” He said, letting go of the armrest, using his hand to pull out of your mouth while you scooted closer, offering him the skin of you bosom. Your inner walls began pulsating as he pushed his tip against the skin of your nipple, rubbing it while at the same time he gently pushed your hand and the toy aside to stroke the base. He kept licking his lips, delivering those small thrusts into his fist just as you moved the tip of the vibrator to the head of his cock, teasing the frenulum. He groaned and began moving faster, his grunts getting quicker until he finally screamed your name.

The first shot was usually the messiest, the pressure so high it often reached your neck and chin, but this time it stayed on your breast, probably because Yoongi was pressing up into you and the toy. You moaned yourself when the vibrator touched your nipple, Yoongi laughing gently and calling your name when he realised you were paying for this too, that you too were vulnerable, and that probably you were turned on enough to let him eat you out and possibly cum inside you before you both headed to his place for a hot meal and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

He spilled twice more on your breastbone and your other breast before he calmed down, reaching for the toy and switching it off. “Kitten. I swear to God, I’m gonna die because of you.” He panted, heavily gasping for air.

Still no trace of the mighty rapper, just one very normal, very lovely young man.

With a fingertip you collected a drop that was dangerously rolling down towards your shirt. “A good way to go.”

“It would be sort of embarrassing to explain.” He blushed, looking at you sucking at his cum on your fingertip. “Come here.” He murmured, patting his thighs. “Can you straddle me?” He asked.

“Why don’t we move to the sofa?” You asked.

He nodded, using your still joined hands to help you up on your feet. As you both stood up, you found yourself face to face, however his eyes moved downwards, to the wetness on your boobs. Bending his head, he cupped both with his palms, cradling the underside in his hands before pushing his lips to your nipple, his tongue lashing out to lick away at his release. Still needy, he moved to the other side, cleaning the other stain too.

Your knees wobbled. He smirked. “Sofa.” However when he reached the black leather piece he noticed the mess you had left behind. “You’d better fix it. Immediately.” He reprimanded.

You hang your head low between your shoulders, hiding from his scolding. You put your toy on top of its pouch, fishing a couple wet wipes to clean the cushion properly, as you bent at the waist to check for the results, you felt his hand smack your ass heavily. “You’re lucky it’s not suede or you’d be fucked by now.” He stood behind you and bent over your spine, adhering to your backside. “And not in the nice way.” He stood up again. “Stay like this, Kitten, don’t you dare move.”

You heard the sound of the lid of your wipes coming off, then the sound of fabric. You didn’t dare move. Yoongi was very likely to look for revenge now, and you already had a high price to pay. In your peripherals you noticed him rubbing the wet wipe all over your vibrator, cleaning it up.

You knew it was your turn now. You just had to hope he was feeling merciful. He bent over you. “Stay put and it’ll be okay, love.” He said with lethal kindness. You heard a gentle thud to the floor, shorty followed by another. “I am kneeling behind you, Kitten. Are you okay with me eating you out like this?”

He was so attentive: it felt like he had a list of all your triggers memorised in his mind; he was always so careful when it came to your potential traumas and insecurities. You weren’t new to receiving oral sex, however to you sometimes it felt very intimate and your worries kept you from freeing your mind and enjoying the experience fully.

“It’s okay.” You mewled.

“You can stop me anytime, love.” He said softly, kissing the back of your thighs, licking the thin stretch marks there. He loved all those small signs, the way they showed the tide of your skin, the way it made sense, the way you looked realer than anything he’s ever dreamed. He was in love with all your freckles and moles, wrinkles, the squishy part of your belly and waist and hips, the little hairs on your navel. He felt real when with you. He felt a little bit less surrounded by that artificial, polished world that looked like a simulation. He felt like he was allowed some small chance of normality, of reality with you. No skinny models with made-up personality, no fame or ego, just being two people facing each other, telling each other how it feels to be human.

Throughout all of his meditation he delivered small bites and kisses on the skin of your thighs and ass, tracing the outline of your labia, enjoying the plush softness.

You moaned out his name, pressing into him. “I know I’ve been bad, just… Please.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” He murmured, kissing your slit. “I deserved it.” He licked you slowly, from your mound to your entrance, the tip of his tongue digging in and collecting the wetness oozing out of you. “I neglected you.” He licked you again, nuzzling the raw skin of your inner labia with his lips. He kept his lips there, breathing softly through his mouth. “I love you, Kitten.” He kissed you there. “Love you so much, baby.” He murmured before you heard the buzz of the vibrator. He wasn’t toying around with you: he wrapped his arm around your leg, nuzzling the toy against your folds until he heard you whine. "Found it?" He asked, referring to your clit.

"Right there." You moaned.

He flattened his tongue against your folds, rolling it until they were spread wide, exposing your most tender nerves to the violent vibrations.

"Yoongi, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered, pressing yourself into him.

He wanted you to. He didn't care, couldn't care less of the amount of times you edged him earlier: he wanted to see you undone. He wished he could tell you, however he felt like it was more important for his mouth to stay on your cunt. He wanted you to know that you were allowed, that he wasn't going to deny you. He simply reached for your hand, placing his on top of yours on the cushion. Suddenly you started grinding your hips, riding his tongue, your free hand wrapping around his wrist, helping him place the bullet where you needed it. The fact that you were almost silent, holding your breath and gasping every time he spread your slick to the apex of your labia, so that the vibrator could slide more comfortably.

Your high hit you like a tide, your knees buckling underneath you, Yoongi's hand leaving yours so he could use his arm to stabilise you. Your hand on his wrist invited him to remove the toy, your position not safe and steady enough to allow any type of overstimulation, meanwhile his tongue battled with the contractions of your inner wall as he slipped it in just enough to stimulate the small muscle at the back, where you were always most responsive. He felt proud at knowing these small tricks, these little details that he had discovered with keen exploration and observation. Every body has their shortcuts to pleasure, though not all people are the same. He had learnt that some things that set his exes on fire to you were completely indifferent, meanwhile stuff that his exes refused could turn you into putty in his hands.

"Yoongi, that's okay.” You moaned, slipping away from him. He parted from your skin, gently pressing a kiss to your labia.

"Are you okay, Kitten?" He asked before running his hand to your breasts, cupping one softly, secretly searching for your heartbeat.

"I think I'm a little shook." You giggled. "It was… Very intense." You exhaled and laughed.

He kept kissing your thighs. You knew that that meant something. "I wanna try something but if it's too much we can stop here." He spoke delicately, his lips tickling your skin.

"Now I'm curious." You said, tired but mischievous still.

"Lemme show you." You heard him shuffle around a bit as he removed his sweater and placed it on the floor. He just hoped he wouldn't make a mess. From his kneeling position he shifted and sat on the oversized garment, thanking God that it wasn't as cold as he expected. He reclined his head on the seat of the sofa as your gaze met his.

"Am I going to ride your face?" You asked with a knowing smirk.

"Smart kitty." He said, mirroring your expression. "Knees on the cushion. Come on babe."

Shaking your head and smiling, you followed his order, your hands looking for support on the back of the sofa. "I'm afraid I'm gonna crush you." You said, even though you loved looking at him like this. His hair was a mess around him, his eyes so dark and intense that it felt like he was ready to drag you to hell and back with himself.

“It’s okay, you’re small. I can help you.” He said, placing his hands on your butt, squeezing. “I’m happy to help.” He grinned and you grinned back at him. You loved that both your brains shared the same perverted paths following the same dirty cues. “I wanna suck your clit, but I don’t know if it’ll work for you since you had the vibrator there.” He said, spreading small bites on your thighs.

“It’s okay. No need to make me cum.” You reasoned, openly refusing that a sexual experience can be successful only if culminating in an orgasm.

“I hate how you’re always ready to give up on your pleasure.” He said, getting argumentative. “I’m doing this to please you.”

“You can please me without making me cum.” You argued back. “It’s not like— Holy fuck!” You screamed, your shoulders giving out. His arm holding your ass up while his other hand held the tip of the vibrator against the underside of his tongue. “You’re fucking wicked.” You swore as your clit disappeared between his upper lip and his pink, filthy tongue. “Fuck Yoongi, you’re the best.”

He exhaled through his nose in some sort of a snicker, pushing on the small button to increase the vibration.

“Oh God. Yoongi— Fuck, like that.” You squealed as you felt him suck you in with wet, slurping noises. “Love.” You said, worry veining your voice. “I’m gonna make a mess.” You warned before raising your hips, parting from his mouth. “Wait.”

He removed the vibrator, opening and closing his mouth quickly before speaking to retrain his tongue muscles. “It’s okay.” He breathed, brushing his cheek against your thigh.

“You’re gonna get wet and smell like sex on the way back home.” You reminded him.

“I can rinse in the bathroom quickly, plus we’re driving by ourselves in the car.” He murmured. “We can if you want to.” He said, reassuringly.

“Get back in place then.” You teased, gently pressing yourself down on his pout and grinding coquettishly. He laughed with his mouth close, digging his fingers into your ass, which made you raise your hips with a small jump.

“I love you so fucking much, Kitten.” He murmured. “Don’t you dare forget that, ____.” He switched the vibrator on, all the way up. “Ready, kitty cat?”

“Bring it on, mister.”

He laughed and got to work. You were pretty sure that the moans you were emitting, joined with the wet, sucking sound that came from Yoongi’s tongue on your drenched clit would probably expose the two of you to the whole floor, and possibly more.

If you had been any more lucid you would have thought of poor mr. Kang guarding the building from the reception, but probably — hopefully — he was far enough not to hear a thing.

Yoongi sped up his game, willing and ready to bring you to the edge once more. He reduced the pressure on your clit, allowing the vibration to travel faster, with less resistance and more power. He shifted his grip from his plush upper lip to the edge of his front teeth, simply grazing your nub as he caressed it with his tongue.

“Yoongi. So sensitive.” You gasped through a muffled moan, your hand pressing against your mouth as you lowered your gaze. He was there, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of you, focusing on each movement, on the taste of you, on your sounds, your heat. Opening his eyes, he winked, realising that he had one last trick up his sleeve. He started brushing the vibrator up and down the underside of his tongue, the act mildly resembling a thrusting motion that had your hips undulating, your breath stopping in your throat.

The high built and built so that when it snapped, you didn’t even realise it, submerging you like a tide, like a small boat in a maelstrom: you felt each roll of your hips, each movement of the vibrator in that straight line underneath Yoongi’s tongue. The high was there, but you still hadn’t felt the peak. You were ready to give up when he slid the bullet off his tongue and into your entrance, pressing it against the tender spot of your vagina, rubbing it as his lips latched to your clit.

“Fuck. Cumming.” You whined before biting your palm. His hand smacked your ass, repeatedly, delivering four or five slaps as if spurring you into riding his face. When he felt your release spill, he stretched his tongue, trying to collect as much wetness as he could, using the bridge of his nose to tease your clit while his mouth was busy. You gushed two, maybe three times before you removed your hand from your mouth, squealing his name and a string of swear words, your hand reaching down, trying to slap his toy-holding hand from between your legs. He understood your gesture and parted from your cunt entirely, letting you recover from the experience while he shut the buzzing device.

“I need in, sweet thing.” He murmured, climbing up clumsily and a little bit helplessly. You rose to your knees, letting him sit on the cushion, helping him fit against your body. “I’m gonna slide in, Kitten. I just need in. Promise.” He kept his sentences short, both for his urgency and your almost shut down brain. Gripping himself steady, he slipped in flawlessly, your drenched walls welcoming his shape, clinging to it and making him swear with how tight you felt right after an orgasm.

“Kitten, so tight.” He groaned, his face falling forward, hiding in the crook of your shoulder. His hips thrusted up while his hands toyed with your breasts, sliding into the shirt you were still wearing. His whole face felt damp against your neck, and you didn’t know if it was sweat or your juices or his saliva as he began drawing a pattern of hickeys on the top swell of your boob. “I can’t hold on.”

“Cum inside, please.” You murmured into his ear, licking the shell and biting the lobe, your hand gently cradling his skull as you enjoyed his grunts and pants against your throat.

As he hammered into you from below, you felt him reaching your cervix, your inner contractions making him come undone, his hands gripping your waist and angrily pushing you onto his lap. The squelching, crude sound, mixed up with his deep groans and the smacking of skin made you close your eyes as you registered every detail. You would come back to this night, when he would be gone, and you would relive it entirely, from start to finish, from the loneliness and coldness of being alone on the sofa, to the anger and revenge of the armchair, to the selfless, devoted attentions you had received twice on the sofa again, and finally this boy-man, hiding against your chest as he vulnerably withered before you.

“God, Kitten.” He breathed out chuckling. “Thank you so much, love. You’re perfect.” He murmured, caressing your back.

“Thanks to you too.” You spoke softly.

“I’m sorry for the last one. I got carried away, I didn’t make you—”

“If you say the verb ‘cum’ I am going to slap your pretty cheeks.” You threatened weakly. “You can do that in a few hours. Wake me up at three am and make sweet love to me.” You propositioned. “Though if I fall asleep, I might sleep for the next ten hours with no chances of being woken up.”

“We need sleep. Both of us.” He hugged you, searching for your hand, twining your fingers together. “But first we need a shower. And we need to rinse before we leave.”

“Closest toilet?” You asked, groaning a little at the idea of getting up, cleaning yourself and all the rest.

“Two rooms away.” He mumbled, his eyes droopy, his head leaning into your shoulder. “Are you feeling okay about everything? I know I pushed it when I left you alone and when I went down on you.” He commented.

“I think we cleared up the air about you ignoring me. It reminded me of when I was with my ex, which is exactly the reason why I bought the toy. He wasn’t happy I used it, but he never said anything or kept me from searching for my own pleasure. Sure though, this was my first time using it with someone. I’ve had a few people before as I said, but it was never… this.” You said, referring to your whole situation with Yoongi.

“How did you feel about how I went down on you?” He asked, always sympathetic.

“I loved it. But that vibrating tongue thingie was sooo kinky. How the hell did you come up with that?” You complimented him.

He chuckled. “I wanted to suck you and I wanted it to be a bit hardcore. It tickled like hell though.” He kissed your cheek. “I didn’t know it would work for you. I had never tried it before.”

“The vibrator was a big ally tonight.”

“Definitely the highlight of the night.” He conceded.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip in your mouth, releasing it with a snap. “I love tasting myself on your mouth.”

He cupped your cheek. “You were amazing on that chair, love.” He praised you, making sure that he gratified you for something that your previous significant other had awfully taken for granted. “I’ll never forget these two covered in me.” He said, bending down to kiss each of your breasts.

“Is your neck okay?” You asked, worried about the way he had reclined his neck before while you sat on his face. “Are you cold?”

“My neck is a bit sore, but some hot water and stretching will solve it. And yeah, I’m a bit cold but it’s okay. Let's fix this place, get dressed and head home, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"Then get up, lazy cat." He teased, poking your sides.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight." You murmured, teasing him as you raised your hips, getting off him.

“You’re sleeping in my bed and we both know it.” He helped you on your feet.

Your lips bent downward as you nodded. “I hate it when you’re right.”

As you turned and bent to gather your wipes he stared at his cum dripping out of your hole, staining your thighs. “Such a shame you’re in love with me,” he replied. His hands gripped your hips, blocking you while his tongue moved between your folds, delivering tiny licks with the tip of his tongue before covering your labia in soft kisses. "All clean, Kitten." He murmured, caressing your naked legs.

"You're the worst." You teased, before his short nails caused goosebumps on your skin.

He stood up behind you. "Fuck, look at this mess." He said, looking at the sofa. "Do we have enough wipes?"

"Oh God."

"No one's gotta know." He commented, and once more you were partners in crime, hiding your thousandth mischief.

You headed for the chair, throwing him his underwear and trousers.

He caught them.

"Bottle of water?" You asked.

"Fridge." He pointed as he slid his boxers on.

You picked up your undershirt, glad that it was a cheap deal, and headed to the small fridge, where you found the water, opening the bottle and pressing your balled up garment against the rim, wetting the fabric.

Next you knelt by the sofa, getting to work.

Yoongi lit a scented candle on the low table, spraying some perfume with a certain desperate motion. "Jeongguk will know. He can smell anything."

You shook your head while you poured some more water on your improvised rag. "Dammit we fucked up."

"Shut up, it was your idea." He taunted you while he found his sweater on the floor, checking it quickly before putting it on with a shiver. "Freezing. Shit."

Once you deemed the damage mostly solved, you grabbed your wipes and used one to eliminate the traces of the water. Checking that no stain remained, you moved on to dressing yourself.

"Have you seen my bra?" You asked.

"No." He murmured, offended, just as you noticed a familiar frill coming out of his bag.

"Why is my bra in your bag?"

"Your bra is not in my bag."

You raised an eyebrow, hooking said frill with your finger and fishing the garment out of his personal tote. "What is this?"

"A fancy hat." He said, barely holding back a laugh.

"Oh, so you're gonna wear that later when we head home?" You asked as you pressed one cup onto his head, the other hanging from the side while you clasped it around his face.

He simply shook it off, bending to kiss your lips. "Don't wear it." He whispered on your mouth.

"I won't." You replied, kissing it once more before placing it back in his bag.

Wearing your panties and buttoning your shirt, you left a couple buttons undone for his viewing pleasure.

He fixed the last few things, opening your coat and helping you wear it.

He fixed his own jacket and caught hold of your waist, placing you in front of him and wrapping his scarf around your neck and face. He kissed your forehead sweetly.

"Get your shoes, I'll do a quick checkup."

While you exited the room, he noticed a small glimmering coming from the crevice between the two cushions. Pushing his fingers in, he managed to pinch the object and pull it out.

He snickered, placing his small treasure before his eyes. "You served well, soldier. You deserve a night of rest. I'll recharge you and keep you safe until next time."

"Who you talking to?" You asked from the corridor.

"Nothing." He placed the vibrator in his pocket. "Coming." He blew on the candle and closed the door.

———————————————

"Hyung, you look well-rested." Jimin greeted him the following morning as he entered the training room.

"I bet he does." Namjoon quipped.

"HE FUCKED KITTEN IN THE STUDIO!" Hoseok announced. "Sorry, couldn't hold it in, you know I can't handle secrets." He said with a sad face, looking at Namjoon.

"Good for him." Taehyung replied.

Jimin looked amused while Jin shook his head, “Is that a good reason to be late, Yoongi? We've been waiting fifteen minutes–"

"Hyung, you arrived two minutes ago." Taehyung replied quietly while Jin shouted, "Shame on you! The disrespect!"

Jeongguk neared Yoongi, patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry I rat you out. I came in last night because you weren't at the dorms. I didn't know. I accidentally said it to Namjoon, Hoseok heard, everyone knows." Guk shrinked in his shoulders. "Sorry." He chirped.

However it was still too early and Yoongi was still too fucked out to care. "Let's just kill this choreo. We better finish soon 'cause I've got Kitten home in my bed to go back to."

Namjoon smirked. "Let's get it."

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