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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

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(Un)Wanted Part 4

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(Un)Wanted Masterlist

A child that sees demons in every dark corner is not a child that is wanted.

A child that cries and freezes and mumbles of terrible things is not a child that is wanted.

A child that jumps and startles and hisses is not a child that is wanted.

Unwanted things are purged from the Earth.

So Virgil runs.

In other words: Virgil is an outcast, ostracized and shunned for how he was born, forced to flee an angry mob only to stumble right into a fae garden.

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Implied/Referenced torture, child abuse, and self-harm, nothing super explicit. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks.

Word Count: 9,617

Logan isn’t nearly as sentimental as the others, nor is he prone to emotional attachment in short periods of time. At least that’s what he’d have you believe.

“Duke, no!”

Just ignore them. Just ignore them.

“Why not? It’s not like I’m hurting him!”

“Mortals are fragile, Duke!”

“Oh come on, he’s not even bleeding!”

That gets Logan’s attention. He stands up, tucks his notebook back into his pocket, and turns in the direction of the yelling. It’s coming from the lake. Sure enough, he barely has to come around the treeline before the reason for the yelling is made…quite apparent.

“Duke,” Logan says slowly, adjusting his glasses, “why is V currently being held by Oliver?”

Indeed, the Duke’s Kraken, affectionately named Oliver, has an arm wound tightly around V’s waist, holding him over the lake. Patton stands at the water’s edge, hands on his hips, engaged in a staring contest with Remus. Remus, perched indignantly on Oliver’s head, sticks out his tongue.

“We’re playing fetch.”

“V is not a stick, Duke!” Patton looks frantically at Logan. “L, please tell the Duke V isn’t a stick.”

“V is not a stick, Duke.”

“You can play fetch with something other than a stick.”

“No, you can’t!”

“Not with that attitude you can’t!”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose and leaves Remus and Patton bickering in favor of walking a little closer to V. V, despite being held several feet above the water’s surface by a kraken, does not appear to be nearly as distressed as Logan would anticipate. Instead, he looks almost bemused.

“V?”

“H-hey, L,” V says, “didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

“It’s quite alright, V,” Logan assures, glancing over at Remus, now standing proudly on Oliver’s head, “although I do have questions.”

“Do I have to come down?”

“It might be helpful so that we can hear each other better.”

Logan expects V to holler to Remus to get Oliver to lower him or to try and get out of the kraken’s grip himself which would…not be ideal, but Logan is here to catch him. But instead, V simply pats the arm around his waist and Oliver lowers him neatly to the ground, keeping a light grip on V. Logan’s eye widen.

“…interesting.”

“Thanks, Ollie,” V mumbles before looking back up at Logan. “What’s up?”

Logan blinks. He was going to ask if V was comfortable with Oliver holding him and that he was an active participant in…whatever version of ‘fetch’ Remus is proposing, and yet V’s interaction with Oliver has rendered that question useless.

He relays as much to V who nods shyly. “I like Oliver.”

“I am no expert, but I would say that Oliver likes you too.” Logan allows himself a small smile at V’s eager expression. “What game are you playing?”

“Duke explained that Oliver likes playing fetch and uh…”

“Is fond of throwing the Duke across the lake?”

“…yeah.” V fidgets with his hands and mumbles something.

“What was that?”

“…wanted to try.”

“Being thrown?” V nods. “I see.”

“Then, uh, Pat came by the lake and—“

V gestures to the others still arguing, even though it no longer sounds like they’re on a completely different topic. Logan shakes his head slowly, more inclined to agree with Patton on this subject, and yet…

As he looks at V, something changes.

“L!” Remus sprawls across Oliver’s head as opposed to simply turning around. “Tell Pat-Pat that there’s no point in having a giant underground lake full of creepy shit if you don’t use it!”

“That’s not what I said!”

Logan raises his voice to cut them off before they lose their trains of thought again. “As long as you are careful, there is no reason why V can’t join your game.”

V’s wide eyes make him smile.

“In fact…there may be benefits to it.”

“Benefits?”

“May be?”

“Proper development of the vestibular sense is crucial for mortals,” Logan explains, “it encourages connection with the other senses and an understanding about where the body is in relation to its surroundings.”

Remus tilts his head. “…so you gotta toss ‘em?”

“It doesn’t have to be tossing, no, but temporary disruptions to their balance are necessary, yes.” Logan glances at V. “Without it, it affects the function of other senses, leading to fidgeting, problems focusing and listening, among other things.”

A look of realization slowly dawns on V’s face, one that’s quickly followed by a flash of something that passes too quickly for Logan to catch. He frowns, making to ask V what’s wrong before Remus yells delightedly and Oliver scoops V up again.

“You heard the teacher! Toss!”

“Wait!”

Too late. V’s already in the air. Logan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Duke, I specifically told you to be careful.”

“We’re being careful!”

“That was similar to how Oliver would throw you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Tell me, Duke, what is V?”

“A mortal?”

“…so?”

Remus’s eyes widen and he curses. Oliver seems to get the message, taking off so quickly it knocks Remus off his head, sending him splashing into the lake. Logan watches as Oliver swims across the lake so quickly he can catch V before V hits the water. Judging by the Kraken's pleased rumble, perhaps this new game is even better than the last one. Remus yells out once more before he speeds across the lake to join them, narrowly avoiding showering Patton and Logan with the spray.

“Be careful, kiddos!” Patton shakes a few drops of water out of his cloak.

Logan removes his glasses, cleaning them. “They will be,” he assures, “I do not believe even the Duke would intentionally hurt V.”

Patton huffs. “You say that like you don’t know that he’s the most protective one.”

“I believe both you and J could easily compete for that title.”

“He came to you for help about going feral,” Patton says softly, “he’s never done anything like that before.”

They watch the three of them from the shore, smiling at the faint echoes from the other side of the water.

“…V is special to the Duke,” Logan says finally, “it’s not surprising that he wants to help.”

Patton gives him a look. “He’s not the only one.”

Before Logan can ask Patton what he means by that, he disappears into the forest.

Logan brushes it to the back of his mind, getting back to work. The growth rates in this part of the forest have altered lately, almost as if the aura was changing due to the influx of a new magical presence. Perhaps the proximity to the lake and thus a convergence of the Prince and the Duke’s influence affects the relationship the plants have with the earth…

He quickly loses himself in his observations, making careful notes as he walks along the paths. Time passes without his awareness until he realizes he’s been squinting at the flower in front of him. He cleans his glasses and starts back to the clearing. Typically he would simply sink into his realm. Yet he has to admit the doors do help to separate the time he spends working from his leisure time. Plus, the walk through the forest in the twilight is pleasant.

As of yet, he cannot explain how the fog that curls around the lake relates to the blending of the twins’ influence, but the magic that holds the mist intact as it moves through the trees is stronger than the ambient magic of the forest. If he were a different person, he would say it feels like a thin sheet.

Logan enters the clearing, about to walk through his door, when he catches sight of a silhouette perched on a tree stump. A few paces closer and V’s form resolves in front of him.

“V?” V jerks, relaxing when he registers Logan’s form. “It’s late.”

V nods, glancing around. Darkness settles over the clearing gradually. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan simply nods. “May I join you?”

“I-if you’re going somewhere you don’t have to—“

“I would like to,” Logan interrupts softly, “may I sit with you?”

Glancing at the stump, V shifts. “…dunno if there’s room.”

“That’s quite alright.” Logan waves his hand and a small group of the vines forms a swing.

“Whoa…”

“Would you like to sit with me?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

The swing is large enough for them to sit side by side without touching. V pulls his legs up, loosely wrapping his arms around his knees. Logan crosses his legs, keeping one foot on the ground to rock them gently back and forth.

“Are you alright, V?”

For a few moments, there is nothing but the soft breeze and the creak of the vines.

“…I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Logan says quietly, “you don’t have to know.”

“Shouldn’t I, though?” The bitterness in V’s voice makes him look over, brow furrowing when he sees V’s mouth drawn tight. “It’s…it’s me, shouldn’t I know what’s going on?”

“Have you been taught how mortal bodies work?”

“…huh?”

“Have you received any formal education about mortal bodies?” Logan tilts his head. “Or any education about them for that matter?”

“…no?”

“Then how can you be expected to know?” V’s face twitches. “You are not expected to know things that no one has ever told you.”

That flash appears again as V looks away and mumbles something.

“V?”

“’S not true.”

Logan tenses. “What do you mean, it’s not true?” He softens immediately when V stiffens at the unbidden anger in his voice.

V shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Don’t push; it will only make it harder for him to decide to open up to you.

Logan tilts his head back, looking at the trees. The sky is alight, letting the leaves stand out as the inky blackness. The breeze rustles through them.

“Thank you.”

He turns. V’s staring at him, worrying the edge of his tunic between his fingers.

“You’re welcome,” he says softly, “may I ask what specifically you’re referencing?”

“Earlier,” V says, “at the lake…the…vestibular sense thing. Made some things make sense.”

Logan waits.

“…is…is that why I’m like this?”

The shake in V’s voice makes Logan want to say yes, that’s all this is, a little while of being tossed around by Oliver and Remus will fix everything but…

“No,” he says quietly, trying to soften it as much as he can. V’s shoulders slump. “It’s part of it, albeit a small part, but…it’s not everything.”

V’s head drops to his knees and a tremble makes the swing shudder lightly. Then he rests his chin on his folded arm.

“…you said it messes with focusing, right?”

“It can, yes.”

“Is it for everything?”

Logan frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I need—“ V cuts himself off.

“Go on,” he encourages, “you may tell me.”

“…I can’t…it’s too much nothing.” Logan waits, still swinging them gently back and forth. “I don’t…I still don’t know what you want.”

Ah. “You need something to do.”

V nods. “I just don’t want to be a problem.”

“You’re not a problem, V,” Logan assures, “but I understand needing something to do.”

“You do?”

He nods. “Structure can help you adjust to a new environment, especially amidst times of high stress. Additionally—“ he glances over at V— “it may serve to…’pull you out of your head’ a little, so to speak.”

“Yeah…” V seems to relax a little more into the swing. “…yeah.”

“Do you know what you would like to do?”

V shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s a big question.” Logan taps his fingers idly against his knee. “Though perhaps it would do to remember Pat’s suggestion. If you cannot say what you do want, try saying what you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Good…anything else?”

“I don’t…” V swallows. “I don’t want to…”

He raises his chin. “I want to help.”

Logan can’t help the proud smile on his face. “Good job.”

“…for what?”

“You said what you wanted.” He tilts his head. “Would you like to help me?”

“With what?”

“An experiment I’m doing on the plants near the lake.”

“..sure.”

“Wonderful.” Logan stands up, offering a hand. V takes it and he pulls him gently to his feet. “Do you think you can sleep tonight?”

At V’s look of confusion, Logan clarifies. “You need rest, V, and establishing a regular sleeping pattern is going to be helpful. If you truly do not think you’ll be able to sleep, we can work with that, but you should try.”

V glances toward his room. “I, um, I’ll try.”

“Okay. Thank you.” V nods. “After you’ve eaten tomorrow, knock on my door, alright?”

When Logan shuts his own door behind him, he sets his notebook carefully on the table and leans against his desk.

What…what just happened?

He just invited V to help him with his work, that’s what happened. Something he has never trusted another living being with and V…V didn’t have to ask. It was simply the logical solution.

Well.

He has some other work to do in the meantime, then.

He should also try and get some rest, if only to make sure he’s not being hypocritical. Even though he is not mortal…it wouldn’t do to present V with conflicting influences.

By the time the timid knock comes to his door the next morning, he’s got another notebook, purple next to his dark blue, ready on his desk. He opens the door.

“Good morning, V. Have you eaten yet?”

He moves aside to let V in. “Just came from Pat.”

Logan can’t help but notice how V’s eyes dart around the space. More than the others, perhaps, Logan’s room is the most separated than what V may be used to. His is a study, with a large bookshelf, a desk, and a window that looks out into a part of the forest. V hovers a few paces away, looking around.

“Take your time,” Logan says, walking toward the desk, leaving the door cracked the tiniest bit, “an adjustment period is to be expected.”

“I know.”

“Have you been in rooms aside from your own and Pat’s as of yet?”

V shakes his head. “Just those two.”

Oh. Oh, that’s…well, Logan didn’t expect that. Patton, of course, was a given—V had fallen asleep there, after all. Remus…well, given V’s heightened stress levels it was for the best that he had recognized that perhaps limiting their interactions to this layer was the best.

But…none of the others?

The prince…the prince never passed up an opportunity to show off. Surely in a realm where his power increased almost exponentially…then again it might serve to overwhelm as opposed to impress.

As for J…

Well. Attempting to decipher his motivation was an undertaking all its own.

Logan tucks the little bit of warmth that rushes through his chest at this new bit of knowledge away to be analyzed later. For now, he simply watches V look around his room a few more times. The tension in his shoulders seems to disappear the longer he stays.

“V?”

“Huh?” V turns to him and Logan blinks. He’s…he looks…

“You look calmer,” he observes, “do you…feel different?”

“Yeah…yeah I think I do.” V opens and closes his hands, looking at them like he’s never really looked at them before. “I feel like I’m…not in my body? Like there’s a…a sheet of glass between me and…the bad stuff.”

Logan nods. “My room—my realm, in its entirety, is a little more removed from…emotions.”

“Why?”

Smiling a little at the first question V’s asked without being nervous, Logan gently raps his knuckles against the desk. “It is connected to me. Thus it behaves differently.”

V glances around again. “Is that why it feels…clear?”

“Clear?”

“Like it’s easier for me to think…less fuzzy.” V closes his eyes. “Like in the garden.”

“I suppose that is a good word for it,” Logan muses, tilting his head to watch V open and close his hands again, “clarity.”

“Is that what you do?” V looks at him. “Pat’s the heart…you’re clarity?”

Logan smiles. “That is an excellent way of describing it.”

V’s mouth quirks up before his gaze lands on something over Logan’s shoulder. His eyes widen.

“What is that?”

Logan beckons him over to the large glass bottle, unable to stop his smile growing wider as V stares at the plants inside. He is quite proud of this project, if he does say so himself.

“It’s what you’re going to be helping me with,” he says as he joins V, “at least in part.”

“What…what is it?”

“It’s a bottle garden.” Logan reaches out to tap the seal in the bottle’s neck. The bottle is about two and a half feet in diameter at the widest point and around three feet tall. “An isolated ecosystem.”

“A what?”

“An experiment.” Logan points to the green leaves that curl and press up against the glass. “This plant is called spiderwort. See the little drops of water?”

V nods.

“Those are condensation from the plant as it transpires. The water will run down into the soil to help sustain the plant which means I don’t need to water it.”

“Wait, wait…” V tilts his head. “You…you don’t water it?” Logan shakes his head. “Then how does it survive?”

“Because plants are autotrophs, the only external input it requires it light.”

“Plants are what?”

“Autotrophs. It means they can produce their own food.” Logan holds out his hand for V to take, carefully pulling him toward the side with more light. “Have you ever wondered why plants are mostly green?”

“Mhmm.”

“There’s a chemical in plant cells called chlorophyll. It’s what gives it that green color. That chemical helps plants turn a gas called carbon dioxide and water into food. All it needs is light”

“Whoa…” V reaches out to touch the glass. “Wish I could do that.”

You can have all the food you want, V. No one will ever take food from you or starve you ever again.

“Where does it get carbon dioxide from?”

“It’s the gas we breathe out,” Logan says, “produced as a waste product from respiration.”

“Respi-what?”

“Respiration. That’s the process most living things do to survive. It involves breaking down the food you eat and the air you breathe in to give yourself energy.” Logan taps his own chest. “You need food—or more specifically, glucose—and oxygen to respire, and it produces water and carbon dioxide as waste products.”

V raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got water in me?”

“Technically, yes, mortals are at least 70% water, but the waste water from respiration comes out in your breath.”

“It does what?”

“When you go outside in the winter,” Logan says, “and you can see your breath, that’s the water vapor condensing in the cold air.”

“Condensing?”

“Turning from a gas to a liquid.”

“Oh.” V looks back at the bottle. “Is…is that what’s happening here?”

“When the water droplets form on the inside of the glass? Yes.”

V nods, although it looks hesitant. Logan steps forward to ask what’s wrong when V’s head droops. “Sorry I’m asking so many questions.”

“Questions aren’t bad, V,” Logan says gently, “I’m pleased you’re asking so many.”

“Y-you are?”

Logan nods. “It shows you’re interested and you want to learn. That is always something that pleases me.”

“Can I ask some more then?”

“Of course.”

V points to one of the leaves nearer the glass. “You said that plants only need sunlight, water, and carbon…dioxide?” Logan nods. “How does it get the carbon dioxide?”

“All living things respire. The carbon dioxide from the respiration is used for photosynthesis.”

“Then what does it need to respire?”

“Food—glucose—and oxygen.”

“Where does it get the oxygen?”

“Photosynthesis produces oxygen as a waste product.”

V frowns. “Wait…you need carbon dioxide and water to make photosynthesis happen…which gives the plant food and oxygen…”

Logan nods.

“But the plant also needs to make respiration happen…which needs food and oxygen…and makes carbon dioxide and water?” When Logan nods again, V’s face makes him chuckle. “So are they both just…not happening?”

Logan fetches the two notebooks from his desk and returns to V’s side. “Let’s say that this—“ he holds up his blue notebook— “is one set of ingredients, and this—“ he holds up the purple one— “is the other.”

He passes the purple notebook to V, smiling a little at the careful way V holds it. He places the blue notebook in his left hand and holds out his right.

“If you give me your set of ingredients—thank you—I undergo my process and I produce the other, which you need to complete yours.” He passes the blue notebook to V.

“You,” he continues as he switches the purple notebook to his opposite hand, “then undergo your process and produce the first set of ingredients again.”

“So…” V cautiously holds the notebook out for Logan to take.

“Thank you. And I believe you need this.” They switch notebooks again. “It works as a circle,” Logan says as they begin passing the notebooks back and forth faster. “As one process is completed, it gives its waste products to the other so that the plant can live.”

They pass the notebooks around a few more times as V chews on his lower lip, brow furrowed in concentration.

“…okay,” he mumbles finally, “okay I got it.”

“Wonderful.” Logan sets the notebooks aside carefully. “Anything else?”

“What happens when parts of it die?” V points to a few brown leaves near the bottom of the bottle.

“The bacteria in the soil help break down the leaves and release more carbon dioxide.”

“What happens at night? When there’s no light?”

“Some of the food doesn’t get used right away. It gets stored inside the plant. During the night, the plant breaks it down to sustain itself.”

“Is that what happens with the water too?”

Logan nods. “The water drips into the soil, where the plant’s roots soak it in. After the plant is done with it, it gets released into the air through transpiration and the cycle begins again.”

“That’s really cool,” V murmurs, still staring at the bottle garden, “that’s…really cool.”

“It was watered once,” Logan says, reaching out to trace the bottle as well, “when I first planted it. Then it was sealed and…it’s been doing perfectly well ever since.”

“Because…it makes its own food through photo…photosynthesis,” V says carefully, “which makes the things it needs for respiration…which then makes more stuff it needs for photosynthesis…and it needs light but at night it can use the food it’s stored away…and you don’t need to water it because it…reuses the water?”

Logan can’t help patting V’s shoulder proudly. “Excellent.”

Oh. Oh, V must not be used to being praised. He may have guessed.

V’s cheeks flush a light pink and he fidgets.

The Prince can help with that.

“But if you don’t need to do anything,” V says hurriedly, “then what do you need my help for?”

“This,” Logan says, patting the bottle affectionately, “is a small-scale experiment. I need your help with the full scale one.”

He nods toward his desk. “Would you please grab the notebooks?”

V cradles them carefully as Logan opens another door, leading out to a different section of the forest. He closes the door behind them and makes a note to give V a passage to this section without having to go through his room.

“This,” Logan says, gesturing around, “is the full-scale experiment.”

“Are we in a bottle?” V blurts out, only to immediately wince and try to hide his face.

“In a way.” Logan holds out his hand and the barrier around the garden shimmers faintly. “We are in a closed system, but no, there is no literal ‘bottle’ in this sense.”

V nods, still looking around. He sticks by Logan’s side, despite Logan’s gentle encouragement that he’s allowed to walk around a little, it’s alright.

“Don’t wanna step on anything important.”

“I can assure you, these plants are quite resilient. You cannot hurt them.”

V still seems a little apprehensive. “So…why is this one different?”

“The bottle garden is composed of only one plant. It’s a very controlled ecosystem. I’m curious if the same principles will still work practically with multiple species.” Logan holds out his hand. “May I have my notebook, please?”

V makes to hand both of them over when Logan stops him gently.

“The purple one is for you.”

V’s eyes widen. “W-what?”

“For you,” Logan repeats, smiling gently. “I find it helpful to write or draw things when I’m working. It may help you too, especially if you have questions or things you’d like to talk about when I’m not here.”

V, still holding the notebook like some precious artifact, almost drops it in shock. “Wait, you’re okay with me being here when you’re not?”

“Yes.” Logan tucks his notebook into his pocket. “Are you comfortable with being here when I’m not?”

Judging by V’s trembling hands, that’s a ‘no.’

“V,” he calls softly, waiting for V’s gaze to snap to him, “can you tell me what’s worrying you?”

“I—I—“

“Take your time,” he murmurs, “take your time and breathe.”

V breathes. He hunches his shoulders and draws a few shuddering breaths. Distantly, Logan thanks the part of himself that made sure this garden is completely sealed off from the outside.

When V raises his head again, Logan reaches out and lightly touches his shoulder.

“Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, you needn’t apologize.” He takes a small step closer. “Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”

“’S just…too much.”

“Too much light? Too much scent?”

V shakes his head. “…too much.”

Logan thinks. “…too much to do?” V nods. “I see.”

“D-don’t take it away,” V blurts, “please, I—“

He shushes V gently. “I’m not taking anything away, you have my word. I believe I have not been as clear as I would like to be.”

“I think you’re doing great.”

It’s muffled, not meant for him to hear, and yet it sends a rush of warmth through him all the same.

“For the most part, we will be working together,” Logan says instead, “but there will be times where I must step away for a moment or you will want to step away for a moment. If you think of something, the notebook is to help make sure you will not forget it.”

He moves his hand to rest on V’s arm. “Does that sound alright?”

V nods jerkily. “Can…can I write down what you told me about the bottle garden?”

“It’s your notebook, V, you may write down whatever you like.”

Logan turns away, moving a few paces to examine one of the blooming plants to give V some privacy. After a few moments of the scratching sounds of writing, he hears shuffling footsteps beside him.

“Shall I show you around?”

“Yes please.”

They walk slowly around the garden as Logan points out the different species of plants, how they work together, and V makes notes as they go, occasionally asking for Logan to repeat what he’s said or to clarify his last point. Logan makes note of which plants seem to be V’s favorites.

“Why these plants,” V asks as he scribbles something else down, “why not others?”

“Plants are very good at ‘scrubbing’ the air, so to speak.” Logan adjusts one of the branches so it doesn’t hit them in the face. “These are adept at both the physical air and the magical aura. In order to maintain the gateway garden, I want to investigate the best plants for it.”

“Is that the one I fell into?”

“Yes.” They round another corner. “J and I share responsibility for most of it. The prince and the Duke control the parts we do not.”

“What about Pat?”

“Pat takes care of the portal itself.”

V scribbles something else down, then he looks around at the garden and frowns.

“Is there something wrong?”

“With the bottle garden,” V says carefully, flipping back and forth over a few pages, “the whole thing is small enough to kind of…sit in the window so all of it gets light, right?”

“Correct.”

V points to the shadow cast by the walls. “What about them? Do they need less light or something?”

“They do,” Logan nods, “very well done.”

“But…” V frowns again.

“But?”

“In the gateway garden, there…aren’t walls.” V looks up at him. “If…if you need those plants to do things but they need less light, where will you put them?”

Logan smiles. “Very well done.”

“...so?”

Logan shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that.”

“O-oh.” V looks down. “I didn’t mean to—“

“V,” Logan interrupts gently, “I’m not angry. Quite the opposite.”

“Really?”

“Never be afraid of asking questions,” Logan encourages, “especially not with me.”

V’s nervous smile is enough to make Logan spend the rest of the day trying to keep it there.

It works. Logan made it clear that this isn’t a rigid schedule, V needn’t spend every waking second here, this was here as an option for him. And yet, he still finds V with his notebook in hand quite often as they walk around the garden, keeping track of what’s growing well, what needs something, and which plants aren’t growing as compatibly as they could be. And V grows more comfortable.

“What makes the flowers different colors?”

“The different pollinators they need to attract respond to different colors due to coevolution.”

“What’s coevolution?”

Or:

“I saw this plant by the lake yesterday, Oliver tried to eat it.”

“Well, Oliver tends to try and eat a lot of colorful things.”

“Why?”

“Most of the food he eats underwater is distinguished by its bright colors.”

Or:

“How do you…find these plants?”

“The prince and the duke can create most of them, or at least seedlings from them. The others we can find by exploring the forest.”

“…your forest or…?”

“Mainly our forest, yes, because of the magical aspect. You needn’t go into the mortal forest ever again.”

“…promise?”

“You have my word.”

After that, V starts asking broader questions. About the nature of the forest, about the barrier between the rest of the forest and the garden, about how the link between the different ‘layers’ works.

Logan answers each one to the best of his ability, suggesting which of the others V should ask if it’s outside his area of expertise. When V asks about why Logan’s letting him help, it’s the first time Logan has to pause for a while before answering.

“The others are good companions but we have…different working styles,” he settles on eventually, “and I’m not sure my garden would survive all of our…disagreements.”

He doesn’t notice V freeze until he hears the notebook hit the ground. At the soft thwap, he turns around and is by V’s side in an instant, quietly asking what he can do.

“…you…fight?”

“Occasionally, why does…” Logan’s eyes widen in realization and he quickly crouches down around V. “We do not hurt each other, V.”

“But if you fight—“

“We fight with words, with ideas,” Logan says softly, “but we still care for each other. Do you remember when Oliver first tossed you, how the Duke and Pat disagreed over whether or not it was a good idea?”

V nods.

“That is the type of fight I refer to. It’s harmless, for the most part, and no one is hurt.” He leans a little closer. “And we will never hurt you.”

“Then why…why would the garden get hurt?”

Logan sits on the ground next to V. “The important part of an experiment is controlling all the variables you can, yes?”

“So you can keep track of what’s causing what.”

Logan nods. “The others have different magical auras.” He holds up his hand and lets it glow dark blue. “If they enter another realm, or another room, they can keep their auras under control to a certain extent, but only for a short amount of time.”

V’s breathing evens out. “So…it would throw off the experiment, not…not hurt it.”

“Yes,” Logan murmurs, “nothing would be hurt.”

He leans onto his hand to catch V as he lists to the side, weary from the emotional onslaught. As he does, his head lolls back against Logan’s shoulder. His eyes widen and he exhales sharply.

Logan follows his gaze upwards to see the starry sky.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He feels V nod against him. “Not used to it yet?”

“…never really looked up before,” V confesses, “couldn’t.”

Mm. Looking at the sky when one doesn’t feel safe is…not common. Logan moves so he can support V’s head a little better. He glances around. They’re not near any delicate plants. They have enough room…

“The best way to stargaze,” he murmurs, “is to lie down so you don’t hurt your neck.”

He expects V to shake his head, to say he’s perfectly alright like this, and it would be understandable. Instead, V shifts, moving his notebook out of the way and easing himself down onto his back. His hands twitch and he swallows heavily, but the trust in his gaze makes Logan a little light-headed.

He lays down too, close enough the V can reach out and find him if he needs to, but not too close that they’re touching. There are a few rustling noises as V shifts.

“C-can you talk?”

“Talk?”

“I—I can’t hear you, I don’t—I wanna know where you are.”

“I’m right here,” Logan says instantly, “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m happy to talk. What would you like me to talk about?”

“…how do the stars work?”

“What do you know already?”

“…not much.”

Logan takes a deep breath. “Stars are…fascinating things. They exist for billions of years and provide so much to the universe.”

He talks about hydrogen fusion, about the CNO cycle, about the different types of stars, and how they burn at different temperatures and different colors. As he talks, he feels V relax slowly into the grass.

“What…what happens when a star dies,” V mumbles after Logan finishes explaining the forming of constellations—which aren’t really formed, they’re simply one perspective of the night sky—“where does all the energy go?”

“Back into the universe.”

“…how?”

“There is a rule,” Logan murmurs, shifting a little to get more comfortable, “in the universe, that no energy is created and none is destroyed, it simply changes forms.”

A light breeze blows through the garden.

“That means when a star dies, when anything dies, every little piece that makes it up will go on to be part of something else.” He tries to think of an example V would know. “Like with the parts of the spiderwort that die. Those parts are broken down and remade into something new.”

“…that happens with everything?”

“Yes, V, everything.” Logan turns his head a little, just enough to see V’s silhouette against the dark. “Every plant…every animal…everything.”

V’s whisper is so quiet he has to strain to hear it. “Even me?”

“Even you.” Logan looks up at the sky. “A part of you may be part of a thundercloud, rain down on the lake. A part of you may be the lake or the breeze that sends ripples across the surface.”

The night is quiet.

“A part of you may be a plant,” Logan murmurs, “and grow for years. A part of you may be one of the animals in the forest.”

He looks up into the sky full of distant lights.

“A part of you may even be part of a star, burning brightly so far away.”

A sharp exhale from next to him and he looks over, seeing the way V’s mouth parts slightly.

“You are a child of the universe,” he whispers, “and you always will be.”

Something brushes his hand. Then it does it again. Logan turns his hand over and lets V slip his hand through. He squeezes once, gently. Smiles when V squeezes back.

V stays closer to him for a few days as they work after that, before finally beginning to venture a little further away, then a little further, until one day Logan walks into the garden to see V already there, huddled around a plant. He looks up and waves before getting right back to work. Logan smiles for a while after that.

Then Logan asks V to fetch something from inside and he’s only gone a few minutes before there’s a loud crash.

Logan’s on his feet in an instant, dashing inside, only to see V huddled in the corner, his eyes wide, staring at the broken glass on the floor. His head jerks around when Logan appears in the doorway, scrambling back.

“Easy,” Logan says instantly, coming inside and crouching so V can see all of him, “easy, little one, it’s alright.”

“I’m—I’m sorry—it just—I couldn’t—I’m sorry—“

“Shh…shh, little one, it’s alright, I’m not upset.” Logan watches as V’s hands start moving to his hair, pulling. “Focus on me, little one, focus on me.”

V squeezes his eyes closed but nods his head.

“I need you to breathe for me,” Logan says, reaching out and placing his hand on the floor, trying to make his realm settle, block out everything and focus on calm, safe, quiet. “Just like that, good.”

It takes much longer than he would like for V to finally look at him properly. “…you’re not mad?”

“No, V, I’m not mad,” Logan says, “are you hurt?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. As long as you’re not hurt. That’s what I’m worried about.”

“B-but it’s yours,” V manages, “and—and I broke it.”

“It’s just an object, V, you’re more important than that.” Logan stands slowly, waving his hand to vanish the shards of glass. “No harm is done. There’s an extra glass over here.”

As he takes it down from the shelf, he notices V still curled up in the corner. He frowns, setting it aside and holding out his hand.

“Will you come here for me?”

V flinches.

“I won’t hurt you,” he soothes, “I won’t even touch you if you don’t want.”

Standing is a battle; Logan can see it. Walking over is another one. He keeps himself open, doesn’t move, leaves his hand there if V wants it. When V takes it, he moves closer, gently cupping the back of V’s neck. He rests their foreheads together.

“Do you believe me,” he whispers, “that I’m not angry?”

He’s rewarded with a small nod.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, V, we all make them.” He draws back. “No harm has been done. And I won’t hurt you, none of us will.”

They go back to the garden, and if V hovers a little closer and prefers to write in his notebook, Logan doesn’t comment.

There are a few more bumps. V spills one of the new seedlings and the soil gets all over their notebooks. He oversleeps one day and shows up out of breath. He accidentally works on the wrong side of the garden for a shift.

Each time, Logan talks to him calmly, assures him that nothing’s gone too wrong, they can fix it, that it’s alright. And each time, V calms a little bit faster.

One day, he comes in to see V crouched in the corner.

“Good morning,” he calls, stooping to pick up his own notebook, “did you rest well?”

He frowns when he realizes V’s in the same position he left him last night. There was a new plant that had been having some difficulty; its stem had torn during transport and had to be monitored. V had volunteered to watch it for a little longer. Has…has he stayed out all night?

“V,” Logan says, approaching slowly, “it’s alright, you can leave it for a little, I’m happy to…”

He trails off, the rest of the chide catching in his throat as he looks down.

V is asleep, still curled protectively around the plant. As Logan bends down, he notices a small stick strapped to the stem, splinting it in place as it grows. V’s hand reaches out for it, almost in offering, as if the plant would reach out if it needed comfort in the night.

“Oh, V…”

Logan takes V’s notebook and his own and sets them aside, carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket and draping it over V. Curled up as he is, it covers him completely. He smooths the material over V’s shoulders.

“How sentimental.”

Logan turns. J stands at the door, leaning against the frame. He raises an eyebrow and looks Logan up and down.

“What would the others think,” J muses as Logan stands, dusting himself off, “about you acting so…emotionally? Surely the logical thing would be to wake him up, send him to his room. And yet he is allowed to remain…covered with something that is not designed to be used as a blanket.”

He smirks when Logan shoots him a look.

“And such tenderness too.” He covers his mouth with a gloved hand in a mock gasp. “From someone who would be perfectly content to never experience physical contact every again, from someone who prefers refraining from physical contact.”

J chuckles when Logan rolls his eyes.

“As if you have any right to talk.” Logan gives V one last glance before turning to J. “You made a claim that carried such a weight that it dragged up the portal before Pat made it visible. Out of all of us, you have been the gentlest with him. And as for physical contact…”

Logan folds his arms.

J looks down at V, his expression softening, the fingers on one hand absentmindedly toying with the seams on the glove. He doesn’t try to argue—good, he would lose—and simply sighs.

“How many times,” he murmurs finally, “have we stopped the others from trying to adopt a mortal?”

“14 times in the last century.”

“And how many times have those been justifiable, perfectly argued with the rules that we have all agreed on?”

“Every single one.”

J straightens, looking at V with such an open expression of concern that Logan winces in sympathy.

“Then how is it that this one appeared and we melted?”

Logan does not have an answer. Neither, it seems, does J.

“Did you need something?”

J tilts his head. “Not specifically. Simply curious.”

“About?”

He knows he’s in for it when J’s smirk reappears. “Surely it can’t have escaped your notice that V has been spending a considerable amount of time with you, in your room.”

Logan adjusts his glasses unconsciously.

“The rest of us are quite bereft of our little V,” J continues, smirk widening, “you’ve been hoarding him all for yourself?”

“V is free to make his own choices,” Logan says firmly, “it is not my fault if he chooses to spend his time helping me.”

“Oh, of course, it’s not.”

“Perhaps you should think of your own ideas then, instead of being envious of mine.”

“Me? Envious? Never.”

Logan just gives him a look. J chuckles.

“Alright, alright.” He waves his hand. “That’s enough.”

“Mm.”

“It is odd though, isn’t it?” J gestures between them. “That we have become so…changed.”

Logan looks down at V, still tucked underneath his jacket. Despite his teasing, J is right. If someone had told Logan he would be inviting a mortal into their realm, into his garden, letting them sleep with his suit jacket draped over them…he would have shut the door in their face.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” he hears J murmur distantly, “brought down in the face of one lost, scared child.”

They freeze when V mumbles in his sleep, shifting slightly, only to ball up one of the jacket sleeves in a loose fist and snuggle into it.

“…despite how much of a departure it has been,” Logan says, unable to stop smiling, “I’m not at all incentivized to change.”

“No,” J agrees, “neither am I.”

And they don’t. None of them do. Patton still eats and bakes with V, Remus still spends time with him at the lake. J will curl up in sunny spots in the forest with V nearby. The prince will go on walks around the forest with V at his heels. Logan works in the garden, side by side with him.

It’s pleasant.

Then Logan walks into the clearing one morning and has to brace himself against the door. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.

Patton appears a moment later from inside V’s room, catching Logan’s gaze in the window. He shakes his head minutely. Logan clenches his jaw and stays put. A few seconds later and the prince’s door whips open so far the air whistles.

Logan reaches out and grabs his arm. “We can’t.”

“I know,” he mutters, grabbing Logan back, “I know we can’t.”

They stare at V’s room, holding each other still. Remus tears into the clearing a few moments later and grabs them too, not feral but close.

“Where’s J,” Remus growls after a moment, “where’s J?”

“Is he inside?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

I’m at the Gate, comes the message, making all of them relax a little, at V’s request.

Logan turns toward the portal. Anything?

No.

A few seconds later and Patton emerges, shushing their questions and guiding them into his room before sighing. The prince pulls him into his arms immediately and Remus hugs him from behind. J arrives and leans against the wall.

“It’s just one of those days,” Patton mumbles after a moment, letting the prince run his hand through his hair, “nothing we can do, really.”

The knowledge doesn’t make the situation any easier.

“Healing is not a straight line,” Logan murmurs as the prince helps Patton to the couch, “it’s…complicated.”

“I know. I just—“

Patton sighs, leaning further into the prince.

“…to take it all away,” he mumbles, “and make this easier.”

“We could always—“

“No, Duke,” J says firmly, cutting Remus off before he can propose burning down the village again, “that would not help.”

Remus pouts and snuggles closer to Patton’s back. Patton reaches back and awkwardly pats his arm.

“Someone should keep an eye on him,” he says quietly, “just in case…”

“We’ll take turns,” J says firmly, “it’s not fair if it’s all on you.”

They do. J takes the first shift as the rest of them help Patton recover. Then Remus, calling up one of his newest creations and toying with it on the stump. Then the prince, with his back against the tree, idly helping the vines grow stronger.

As the sun begins to hide behind the trees, Logan gently taps Roman’s shoulder and the prince gives him a nod. As the red door closes, Logan makes another swing, leaning his head back to look at the clouds.

Movement.

He looks, catching sight of V coming out of his room. V glances around, seeing Logan on the swing. Logan pats the empty space next to him. V sits, pulling his knees up to his chest.

He doesn’t speak. Logan doesn’t push. Instead, he rocks the swing gently, tipping his head back to watch the clouds. V wraps his arms around his legs and holds tightly. A couple of times, more movement draws Logan’s attention; V will open his mouth and close it without saying anything, his hands will ball into fists, his forehead will drop to his knees. Each time it becomes a little harder to stay still, stay quiet.

When V reaches up to his face, his hand a claw, making to scratch his skin, Logan breaks, reaching out to intercept it before V can do it and gently tangling their fingers.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly, “please.”

He can’t help the soft noise he makes when V turns to him, eyes rimmed red, jaw shaking. Slowly, slow enough that V can pull away if he wants, he reaches out to wipe the lone tear away from his cheek.

The hand in his tenses. A dull ache blooms in his chest as he watches. V’s shaking against his palm and so unsure of whether he’s going to pull away. Then his eyes squeeze shut and forces himself away.

“Hey, hey,” he calls, concerned, “where’re you going?”

“S-sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he assures, keeping a hold on V’s hand, “but you don’t have to pull away if you don’t want to.”

“This is so stupid,” V hisses, “it’s so stupid, it’s so stupid and I—I can’t do anything and I keep crying and—and I don’t just wanna cry all the time and it’s so fucking stupid—“

“Shh, shh,” Logan murmurs, reaching out to cup V’s face in his hands, “you’re not being stupid, little one, it’s alright.”

“But I’m still doing this and I shouldn’t be and I—“

“That’s enough,” he says when V tries to scratch again, “hush now, come here…”

V buries his head in his hands—not scratching, thankfully—and whines. Logan rests their foreheads together, pushing easy, easy…breathe…settle…safety.

“You’re healing, V,” he murmurs, “and this is how. Shh, shh, it is, little one. Your system knows it’s safe, now, or at least it’s starting to, and it’s letting itself start trying to figure everything out.”

“It—it hurts.”

“I know, little one, I know.” Logan rests his chin on top of V’s head. “I know it hurts…but you can’t stop here. Healing isn’t a straight line, little one, it’s going to feel worse before it feels better.”

“Why can’t it just stop?”

The plea in V’s voice aches as he pulls V closer, rubbing his head gently with his fingertips. He keeps murmuring gentle encouragement, soft reassurances, until V slumps into his hold.

“You’re doing very well,” Logan says quietly, “I’m proud of you.”

“…you are?”

“Yes, little one, I am.” He gently lifts V’s chin and wipes away another tear. “So proud.”

V swallows. “C-can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, little one, you needn’t ask.”

“Why…why are you being like this with me?” At Logan’s head tilt, V stammers: “I—I just—you…you’re not…normally?”

“Like what, little one,” Logan asks gently, shifting so he’s facing V properly.

“The others…they say you’re not normally so…”

Ah. “You were awake that morning,” he murmurs, “weren’t you?”

V nods.

“J has a point,” Logan admits, “and I presume the others have made similar comments?” V nods. “Then they all have a point. I am not typically so…openly affectionate.”

V mumbles something. Logan chucks him lightly under the chin. “A little louder, please?”

“…said you went soft.”

“Was that the prince?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he at least is in a position to talk,” Logan mutters, “J, on the other hand…”

It makes V giggle which is the important part.

“And you’re curious as to why I am so…soft with you?” At V’s hesitant nod, Logan smiles. “What if it’s because I should be soft with you?”

“…what?”

“You have survived terrible things,” Logan says quietly, “and you are just starting to heal from them. Healing things must be treated gently and with care.”

V’s breath hitches. Oh. Oh, dear.

“The flower you feel asleep protecting, it was healing, wasn’t it?” V nods. “In many ways, this is how I feel about you.”

Logan takes a deep breath, leaning forward to touch their foreheads again.

“I am…protective of you,” he confesses, “you mean a great deal to me. And you, you are so…so ready to be hurt and I will never hurt you. So yes, V…I’m being gentle.”

“…fuck.”

Logan lets V bury his head in his shoulder and cry.

“Hey, L?”

“Yes?”

V looks up at him from his spot on the swing. “What’s a family?”

Logan blinks. “A…a family?” V nods. “Well, in terms of some scientific classifications, a family is the name for one of the groupings of living organisms.”

“I mean like—like people family.”

V shifts to listen properly as Logan turns to him, brow’s furrowed.

“Well…technically speaking, a family is a group of people that share a biological relationship through genetic material, but—“ he lays his hands in his lap— “in a broader sense, a family is a group of people that care deeply about each other. They support each other and form an environment that feels safe for the people involved.”

“W-what else?”

Logan sighs. “I believe Pat would be a better person to ask about this, my expertise in this area is limited.”

“Pat was telling me a story,” V mumbles, “mentioned a family. I, uh…wanted to know…I wanted to ask you.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “I see. Well…I would say a family is…a family is home.”

“Home?”

“Somewhere you feel safe, where you know you will be cared for.” Logan looks at V. “Where you know you won’t be hurt, and you will be surrounded by people who love you.”

V swallows heavily. “A-are…are you my family?”

Oh.

“If you would like me to be,” he murmurs, “I would be honored to be part of your family.”

“Can the others be too?”

“If you wish, I—oh.”

V all but throws himself into Logan’s arms, making the swing falter. Logan hugs back tightly, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. He feels it start to seep into the bond and he bends down.

“I think the others heard you,” he whispers, “and I imagine they will also want to hug you, if that’s alright.”

“…we should get off the swing, then.”

Logan chuckles, helping them to the ground and waving his hand to let the vines disappear. Sure enough, not a few seconds later, Remus drops from the trees and wraps his arms around the both of them with an excited squeal.

“Aww! I love you too, little monster.”

Then comes the prince, who gasps at the fact that Remus got here first, that’s rude, don’t tell him he should’ve been faster, he was working, move over!

Then Patton, dashing out of his door and almost skidding into them, wrapping his arms around V and letting him rest his head against his collarbone.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

“Oh, come off it,” the prince huffs, “we know you want to hug him just as bad, get down here.”

“Rude,” J mumbles, somehow managing to wrap his arms around all of them. Well, he does have six. He chuckles when V bonks his head affectionately against his. “Hello, little mouse.”

“Hi,” V mumbles, his speech becoming more slurred. “‘M tired.”

“You go to sleep then,” Patton says gently, “we won’t go anywhere.”

“Damn right,” Remus mutters, shoving the prince over. Logan rolls his eyes and pulls V more fully onto his lap. “Hey! Stop hogging him!”

“Shh! He’s trying to sleep!”

“You shh!”

“Kiddos.”

“Sorry.”

J chuckles, stroking through V’s hair. He whines softly and the prince gasps.

“Oh, he’s adorable!”

“Isn’t he?”

“Wait, do it again.”

He does, gently scritching his fingers around the crown of V’s head. Then he gets a gleam in his eye and Logan tenses. A second later, the others are making their own noises of contentment as one of J’s hands stroked through their hair.

“I regret to inform you,” Logan says quietly, “that you are all adorable.”

J chuckles in agreement. Then, of course, V decides to flop onto Logan’s shoulder and on instinct, Logan rests his head against V’s. J smirks.

“Oh, dear…”

“Hush.”

“I hardly said anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Mm.” J’s fingers tap lightly against Logan’s neck, working their way between his head and V’s. It sends a shiver down Logan’s spine.

“You talk a big game,” J murmurs back, giving Logan’s head a gentle flick, “about the others being overprotective and prone to emotional choices, but you…”

He smirks and motions to V, dozing on Logan’s shoulder.

“You know you’re just as bad as they are, don’t you, honey?”

“As are you.”

“Oh, did I say that I wasn’t? I missed the part when I said that.”

“Again, you didn’t have to.”

J huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. I’m not the one who believes I don’t have emotional decisions, only logical ones. I haven’t rationalized my emotional decisions as logical ones, only making me more susceptible to them.”

He chuckles when Logan elbows him half-heartedly.

“I know why my behavior has changed,” Logan murmurs, too low for any of the others to hear, “do you?”

It wipes the smirk of J’s face, that’s for sure. He looks at V, then back to Logan.

“Mortals are meant to be separate,” he whispers finally, “they are not meant to stay. We are not meant to care for them.”

“And yet—“ Logan cups V’s head protectively— “here we are.”

“Here we are,” J agrees, “sleep well, little mouse.”

And…if this is what a family is, then Logan firmly believes that everyone should have one.

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jockvillagersonly · 4 years ago

Note

oh sierra. oooohhhh sierra. this was a bad idea. you should never have given me this opportunity. my love language is physical touch and my (be)love(d) writer is YOU so i am legitimately about to go absolutely feral about this i may explode. UM IF IT PLEASES YOU GIVE ME A #22/#37 (either or) with pangzi and wu xie (platonic or romantic, you decide), and/or #31 with wu xie and li cu, and/or #45 with literally anyone i'll take anything i'm BEGGING?? i'm?? this is the greatest day of my life

Did you know that you’re STUPIDLY nice to me? And that I adore you dearly? Also shout out to @humanlighthouse who read this! I’m trying not to edit these at all, but I was worried this was completely incoherent 🙃

Here is the middle prompt: Wu Xie, Li Cu, and pinky swearing 🥰🥺 I decided to write this in the teen AU!

Also I’m going to be out of town for a week but might try to write the other two on the plane 🥰 thank you so much 🥺

> other prompt fic (also on AO3)

~*~*~*~

Wu Xie inched forward, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the lock on the gate as silently as possible. His finger caught on the latch, flipping it up with a startlingly loud creak, and Wu Xie winced. So much for the added stealth bonus he’d gained by swapping out his typical shoes for his rattiest, most soft-soled pair of Converse. He sighed, internally; one of these days he should really remember to bring oil out here with him.

He didn’t have time to go back now, though, so he merely pushed the gate open, achingly slowly, teeth worrying at his lip with each tiny creak. After what seemed like an eon, he finally had the gate ajar enough to just barely slip himself out. He let out a gusty breath in relief, turning back towards the Wu manor for one final check —

— and looked directly into the curious, wide eyes of his 6 year old neighbor. Wu Xie startled hard, jerking back and nearly falling through the unlocked gate, arms flailing slightly as he let out a sharp, high-pitched yelp.

(Wu Xie was pretty sure Pangzi would call the sound a “squeak,” but Pangzi had forfeited any and all teasing rights when he got grounded. It was his fault Wu Xie was even here, sneaking out, at all!)

It seemed his adventure might be doomed to end before it even started, though, if his unexpected visitor gave him away. As if completely oblivious to Wu Xie’s predicament, Li Cu merely cocked his head and took a particularly juicy bite of his orange. Pulp dribbled over his small, round chin, and Wu Xie felt his panic at being caught screech to a halt in favor of a sense of horrified wonder at just how grimy the little kid was making himself. How was it even possible that one piece of fruit could produce such a mess?!

Unfortunately, his distraction cost him heavily, because it gave Li Cu time to start talking. Wu Xie looked around frantically, praying no one was coming to investigate this out-of-place childish voice, syllables as gummy as the orange juice on his face: “Wu-gege, where are you going?”

“Oh, uh...just out for a walk!” Wu Xie leaned in hurriedly, beckoning Li Cu towards him and cupping a hand around his mouth to whisper, “But it’s a secret walk, so you can’t tell anyone! Can you do that for me, Xiao Li?”

Li Cu nodded, solemnly, his floppy bangs shifting with the movement. “Yes, Wu-gege.” Wu Xie relaxed, starting to smile, but then the kid was continuing, voice conspiratorial, each word revealing a mouth still full of unchewed orange: “For a price.”

Wu Xie reeled back, shocked. What kind of shows were the Li’s letting this kid watch?? Surely he was too young to turn to a life of extortion?

...Li Cu didn’t seem to be joking, though, as he solemnly stared at Wu Xie with that unnerving focus so specific to small children. Wu Xie sighed, stumped; he really didn’t have much to barter, but he was already behind schedule, every minute ticking by making it more and more likely someone would stumble across him sneaking out.

It seemed discretion truly was the better part of valor.

“I can … buy you an ice cream?” Wu Xie would already be dropping by the convenience store to pick up Pangzi’s favorite snacks. At the reminder of his best friend, Wu Xie checked his phone for the time — already half past, and 3 more texts from his best friend, each likely just as dramatic about his current state of house arrest as the rest.

He looked up, ready to seal the deal, but Li Cu was looking at him skeptically, holding up two chubby fingers.

Wu Xie huffed, smiling despite himself; the kid drove a hard bargain! He should take Li Cu with him the next time he went antique shopping. Everyone would be so taken by his cherubic cheeks and bright eyes that they wouldn’t even notice the kid thoroughly fleecing them. “Fine, sure, two ice creams it is.”

“You have to pinky promise, Wu-gege,” Li Cu held out his tiny, grubby hand with all the seriousness of a top CEO closing a merger.

Wu Xie sighed, mentally cursing Pangzi’s proclivity for trouble and resigning himself to picking up hand sanitizer at the store as well, before lacing his finger through Li Cu’s small, somewhat gloopy one: “2 ice creams, I pinky swear.”

It wasn’t until Wu Xie was out on the street, soles pounding on the pavement as he took off running, that it occurred to him to ask: why exactly was his neighbor in the Wu’s yard to begin with?

(Back at the Wu manor, a tiny body wriggled its way under the shrubs, popping its head up in the yard next door. Li Cu shook a twig out of his hair and grinned. He’d thought he would be in big trouble when he got caught watching Wu-gege, but instead he had managed to score himself not one but two ice creams! Li Cu was getting better at this exploring stuff.)

#and to everyone else who prompted me (I LOVE U ALL)#I am making my way through then in the order received !!!!!!#I’m so excited OMF #the other two for Brigid are going to be pure tropey trash lol #cannot wait #dmbj #my fic #dmbj fic #Li Cu #Wu Xie #iron teens #prompt fic

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

Finally Yours

**Warnings!!** SMUTT!! LOL. ABO dynamics, Rutting Alpha, Near Farel Alpha, Heat-induced smut, rut induced smut. The implication of male masturbation (brief), Late bloomer reader, language, angst, I think that’s everything!!

A/N: This story was cross-posted from Wattpad! All mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my stuff!! If you would like to be added to my tag list let me know!! Hope you all enjoy this little ABO Oneshot!

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam X Read (Platonic friendship)

Word Count: 3087

********Check out my masterlist!!!*******

MASTERLIST!!!

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Dean’s POV:

Dean pulled himself up from his lying position, sweat dripping from his body. Throwing the toy he’d been trying to use to find some relief across the room, aggravated at the damn thing for not work for him anymore. No matter what he did, he couldn’t find any relief. He’d been in a full rut now for more than a week and a half. He’d hired Omega’s to help him through ruts in the past, but no one really wanted to help an Alpha like him. One that was past his prime.

He was 41 years old and unmated, so he was surprised he’d lasted this long alone without going feral before. Now though, it seemed this rut would be the one to do him.

Running his hand down his face harshly before pulling down the rest of the scotch in the bottle he’d been drinking he picked up the phone with shaking hands and dialed Sam’s number. He needed to be locked down before he went completely feral. While he still could make the choice not to hurt anyone around him.

He thought when he met Y/N that she might be his mate, but she turned out to be beta. He’d heard all the stories of true mates, and soulmates, but he supposed it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Maybe his fate got thrown off when he was brought back from hell all those years ago, his omega given to someone else while he was gone.

He was hoping against all hope that Y/N would have been an omega, he’d loved her for a long time now, even if he was too afraid to say it. They just weren’t biologically compatible, and there was no changing that.

She was Bobby’s niece. He’d promised Bobby that he’d look after her after he was gone, and so far he’d kept to his word.

Now, who would watch over her? He was going to die down here, he knew it, this was it for him, he was going to go completely feral, and his brother was going to have to put him down. There would be no going back for him.

He always thought that he’d go down in a hunt, some vengeful spirit, Djinn, hell a vamp or a demon. He never thought he’d go down like this. Here it was though, no way out. He’d been trying to find a release for days now and nothing. His vision flashes red before him in increments as he dialed Sam’s number. He knew he didn’t’ have long. Growls falling from his chest involuntarily.

“Dean, Is it over, are you ready to go on a hunt?” Sam answered the phone hopefully, Dean suppressed the whine that wanted to escape him.

“Sammy, I need you to come to lock me down…”

Silence fell on the other end of the phone. Sams’ heart was racing. This couldn’t be. No there had to be another way. His brother couldn’t go feral and leave him.

“Dean, just hang in there, I’ll find you an Omega to help you.”

“It’s too late Sam, I don’t have much time before I lose me completely, If you bring an Omega in here I may hurt her.”

Silence fell on the other end of the phone again.

“I’m on my way to you Dean, just hang in there, we will figure this out.”

With that Sam hung up the phone, and Dean dropped it to his side, looking at the toy that lay on the floor across the room from him. His crotch throbbing painfully from his prostate to his knees, causing him to whimper loudly as he fisted himself harshly, getting up to and retrieve the useless toy to try again. He couldn’t give up, even though he was exhausted. Sam depended on him, he always had. He had to fight this.

Your POV:

You watched the desperation run across Sam’s face as he hung up the phone with Dean. Pressing the accelerator harder into the floorboard of Dean’s beloved Impala, flying toward the bunker toward his brother.

You had been with the Winchester brothers ever since your uncle Bobby passed away. He had been taking care of you after your parents were murdered by a demon all those years ago. You were only 8 at the time.

You, like Sam, were a beta. Dean was an Alpha, much like his father before him. Dean had become your most trusted friend and protector over the years that you’d spent with the brothers. You had just turned 25 years old and had been with the brothers since you were 17.

Even though you loved Sam like a brother, over the years you had developed quite a large bit of feelings for the elder Winchester. When you were 15 though, and all the other had already presented by that age, you were still a beta, which meant even after you turned 18 there would be no future for you and Dean. It just didn’t work out that way in this universe. He needed an Omega, there was very little you could do for him.

Still, the heart wants what the heart wants, and you just couldn’t shake the feels you always had for Dean, even after all these years. Even though yourself and Sam where beta Dean still made you leave the bunker, hotel, or whatever and wherever you were at when his ruts would start. He always said he didn’t want you to see him like that, but really you knew he just didn’t want you to watch the parade of Omega’s that he would hire or find at a local watering hole to help him through his ruts.

You and Sam had taken this opportunity to go and see Jody and the girls for this rut. When you didn’t hear from him you both assumed that everything was fine, and going like it usually did. You were about fifteen miles from the bunker when Sam’s phone rang, and you knew something must have been horribly wrong judging by Sam’s reaction. It made your heart seize up in your chest. You just couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to Dean.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” you asked, watching him closely.

Sam swallowed heavily, looking at you briefly, then back at the road. It was no secret to Sam the way you felt about his older brother, even though he knew you tried to hide it and never would admit it to him.

You knew he knew as well, but you just couldn’t say it out loud. Saying how you feel out loud made it real, and then his rejection was real. You didn’t know if you could handle that.

“It’s Dean, he’s still in rut, he can’t come out of it. He wants me to tie him up, so I’m going to tie him up, and then try and find an Omega to help him. Y/N, he says he doesn’t have much time, he thinks he’s going feral…” Sam cut off his sentence unable to say anymore.

Your stomach twisted in you tightly before letting go. You felt like you wanted to curl up and vomit all at the same time. You couldn’t lose Dean. If he went feral, and you couldn’t help him, and Sam couldn’t find someone who could, you couldn’t think about the consequences.

In what felt like no time Sam landed at the bunker. Your stomach had been doing flips and cramping ever since Sam told you the situation. You didn’t know if it was nerves or the greasy dinner food you had eaten on your way here, but you didn’t have time to deal with being sick right now. So you pushed it down and ran after Sam down the stairs, and toward the hallway to Dean’s room.

Just as you rounded the corner with Sam outside of Dean’s door a smell hit you, something heady, and strong. Stronger than you’d ever smelt before. It was the smell of leather, and pine and gun powered; mixed with something that was unique and appealing. As soon as you smelt it your stomach knotted up on you like someone had twisted a white-hot poker in your gut, then twisted it. Sweat broke out over your skin in an instant.

Sam stopped in his tracks, skidding to a halt, and looking at you doubled over in pain. You couldn’t stop the scream that fell from your lips. Sam dropped to his knees next to you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong!”

Sam was starting to panic.

Tears were running down your face now. You were scared, you had never experienced anything like this. The overpowering scent was making it hard to concentrate. It filled your senses, making it all you could focus on. Filling every fiber of your being. “I don’t know Sam..”

Through the door of Dean’s room, a low growl eliminated. The sound made your whole body tremble. Sam watched you, realization showing in his eyes.

“Y/N, I know what’s wrong.. You are presenting. Your and Omega, my brother’s Omega. His rut has triggered your first heat.”

“That’s impossible Sam, I’m 25 years old!!”

“Late bloomer,” Sam shrugged.

Suddenly the door to Dean's room opened behind Sam. You heard the growling sound before you saw him. His eyes were almost black, sweat dripping from his body, it trembled as he leaned against the doorway, his muscles jerking under his skin at random. His eye were hooded as he stared at you, grows mixed with whimpers leaving his solid bear chest.

“Omega,” he whispered, and your body responded to his command immediately, slick coating your underwear in a gush. His scent hit you harder than you’d ever smelt anything in your life. Your body trembled on the floor before him, and your head bowing automatically without your control.

“Alpha..”

At his title, he purred low in his chest, more slick coating your underwear now, responding to Dean’s obvious approval. Your thought process was falling out of the window. The only thing you could focus on was the overwhelming need to have him.

Opening the door wider for you to come into his room, Dean stood and waited for you, as you stood to your feet and staggered your way toward the tall alpha.

Your alpha.

There was no doubt in your mind, Dean Winchester was your alpha, and you need each other now more than ever before.

Sam jumped up and grabbed your arm, causing Dean to snarl and step toward his brother. Sam threw his hands in the air in surrender.

“Wait, wait, Dean, you said on the phone that you were afraid you were going to hurt an Omega if I brought one here for you.”

“Not going to hurt my Omega Sam, now get out of the way and let her come to me.”

Reluctantly, Sam moved to the side and allowed you to move closer to him. As soon as you were in grabbing distance, Dean’s hot hands were on your body, pulling you close this chest before slamming the door.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this with me? Because I’m too far gone, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

His scent was surrounding you. You were panting as his hands roamed your body, Dean backing you towards his bed. His smell was all over the room, clouding your judgment, and making your head spin. All you could see what him, all you ever wanted was him, all you’d ever want again was him, nothing else would ever matter again.

“I need you, Dean. Please Alpha..”

The words weren’t even good and out of your mouth before his mouth was on yours in a bruising kiss. Tongue diving into your lips.

His tongue quickly dominated yours. His body pressed against yours. His rough calloused hands roaming your body. Picking you up harshly he carried you across the room, quickly laying you down on the bed. For the first time, you noticed that he was completely naked. His thick chest and shoulders heaving with heavy breaths. His muscular arms caged around you as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in deeply and whimpering. Trying to hold onto his own control that was slipping from him quickly.

Grabbing your shirt he ripped it from your body roughly. Buttons flying across the room, clinging as it hit random objects in his room. In one swift movement he had your pants undone, and your bra and panties down in one pull. All along with your boots and socks that went in what felt like a flash.

Sweat was prickling all over your skin. With every growl or whimper that left his lips your body produced more slick, that was now running down your legs.

Once he was satisfied that you were completely naked he looked at you, a deep growl escaping his lips. His own body trembling as he took you in. His thick length standing at attention, bobbing against the strain to reach its goal. A small bead of pre-come gathered at the tip. He was massive. You had heard about the size of alpha’s being impressive before, you had never been with an alpha though, and the sheer size of him was downright terrifying.

A shudder and a whimper ripped through you as another wave of cramps assaulted your body. Getting worse every time there was a fresh wave.

Dean laid his body back over you, Pressing his weight down on top of you. Your body soothed some by his touch and his closeness.

“Going to take care of you ‘mega.”

Letting him Nussle into your neck, he slipped two fingers into your aching core, curling them inside of you, sending shock waves of pleasure through your whole body.

“So beautiful Omega, so responsive.” Dean purred above you, licking the same spot on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You could feel the familiar coil begin to burn and tighten in your abdomen, just as you thought you couldn’t get any close to the edge your overheated body trembling and twitching, Dean added a third, thick finger into you and fell to pieces.

White spot speckled your vision and you moaned deeply something you had never done before. Dean worked you a little more gently until your body came down from it’s high.

When you opened your eyes again Dean was hovering over you, watching you. Light growls emanating from his chest.

“Alpha, I need you.”

The words barely above a whisper, but it was the permission he seemed to be waiting for. His eyes darkened even further if that were even possible. Fisting is thick harshly several times before lining himself up with your dripping entrance, he brought his lips to you in a bruising kiss as he sank himself deep inside of you until the tip of his throbbing length hit your cervix.

A deep breath pushed from your lungs involuntarily as your body adjusted to him. His thick arms caged around you. His scent everywhere, making you feel drunk. Your walls already fluttering around him. His body twitching above you, shivering with restraint as he tried to keep himself from pounding into you until your body had adjusted to his.

Reaching up he brushed your hair out of your face and brushed his lips across yours. Kissing you softly before the last of his humanity faded away, and he began to start moving slowly.

He moved slowly at first, purring above you. Then something seemed to snap in him, and a growl rumbled deep in him. He started pounding into you at a brutal pace. Your body responds to him immediately, taking every brutal thrust with ease. Which surprised even you.

Moans and purrs escaping both of your lips, as both of you quickly made your way toward the edge again. Without warning, he pulled himself out of you and flipped you over to stomach, pulling you up to your knees before ramming himself back into you. Picking up his pace even further.

His knot starting to swell and catching your entrance with every push and pull of his body against yours. You tried your best to meet his pace as he pounded into you. His knot swelled even further as his fingers wound their way around, finding your little bundle of nerves and circling harshly with his fingers. Plummeting you over the edge as his knot locked deep inside of you.

A deep growl fell from his throat as his teeth sank deep inside the skin of the junction of your neck and shoulder. The pain quickly erased into pleasure as the strongest orgasm you had ever experience washed over you. Momentarily your vision went black and your body jerked without your control.

Dean slowly withdrew his teeth from your neck, laying you down slowly. His knot still connecting your bodies, and his cum spilled deeply inside of you. He pulled you tight to his chest, purring and licking your fresh claiming mark. Healing it, and soothing it like only your Alpha could.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Dean finally asked after a long while with the two of you just laying there holding onto each other. Adjusting to your new reality, and the warm fuzzy feeling that seemed to be flowing from your Alpha to you.

“I’m okay, but what about you?” you say, remembering why you and Sam had rushed here in the first place. Turning your head so that you could look at him some.

His face looked calmer than you’d seen him in a long time. Tired even. His rut was finally gone. Peacefully purring as he leaned down to nuzzle your claiming mark. Licking it lightly before answering you.

“I’m fine sweetheart, I’m going to be just fine.”

For the first time in a long time, Dean believed what he was saying. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t a lie, he really felt like now that he’d found his Omega, the woman he’d been in love with even when biology said there was no way was finally his. Everything else would work itself out. Right now his Omega, his love, laying here in his arms was all that mattered to him.

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns

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trudy-shams · 3 years ago

Text

What we become - part 5

Things go back to normal after a few days, however, you have become more alert. Mr. Odinson installed high tech security cameras with fancy technology all around the club, thanks to a generous donation he received.

The only thing that hasn't returned to "normal" is your relationship with Steve.

Steve stopped showing up at the bar after that incident for a few days - 3, to be precise. You kept glancing around, hoping to catch a glimpse of a blond head, with no luck. Then on the fourth night, you found him sitting quietly in your section again.

Steve's POV

"I can't wait to see her again" Bucky sighed dreamily.

"You just came back this Monday man, give the girl some time to breathe" Sam chuckled "Oh, did you know that her sister works at Asgards?"

"Who?" Steve tried his best nonchalant voice, not to sound over eager.

HER! here? So close to him?

"Bucky's "forever girl's" sister. We have run into her a few times" Sam went on " Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in Sharon..."

"Ew, hey, stop! That's my sister you are talking about. You are disgusting Wilson..."

Steve tuned out the rest of the conversation.

Steve already knew she was in this town. Steve filed every single piece of information about her in a secret part of his brain. Somewhere no one else could see. He had kept his restraint and never actively engaged in any sort of interaction with her.

God, he still cringes thinking about their past interactions.

What else was he supposed to do with Sharon always glued to his side?

"Earth to Steve? Are you with us or are you lost in Sharon land?" Sam punched Steve's shoulder while Bucky whined.

"Pfft.. It was better when Shar was around. At Least, you would not insinuate this crap, Wilson" Bucky pointed towards Steve "Speaking of, She called me this morning, said you phone wasn't reachable"

"My battery died, I will call her tonight" making up excuses and hiding the truth had become second nature to Steve by this point.

"You better do, I don't like waking up to her shrill voice in the morning. Good luck...."

Maybe Steve could just watch. He could just have a few beers, work a little on his laptop and then come back home. He didn't really have to acknowledge her.

He could just watch from afar.

He could do that.

He HAS done that so many times in the past.

"I should get going, I promised Ma I will take her out to dinner tonight" Lie. Again.

With that, Steve got up to visit a tiny little bar across town.

-------

"You know man, Bucky had no business in that...." Steve pretended to listen, In case she walked out and saw him.

She had already caught him so many times, staring at her. If that didn't make him look like a creep, lurking around the bar at this hour surely will.

But he had to make sure she was safe. He saw that guy snatching her arm at the bar.

He wanted to rip that man's arms out of his body but she handled it.

And he did not want to create a scene.

He barely spoke to you. He wanted to continue to pretend that he didn't know of your existence.

But then he heard a blood curdling scream.

Was his mind playing tricks or it actually sounded like her?

"Call the cops to Asgard. Now!"

With that, Steve hung up and ran towards the sound of the scream.

He saw 2 people struggling near the other side of the alley and ran towards them full steam.

or what he thought was full steam.

The moment he caught a glimpse of her face, he went feral.

Some creep was ON her, muffling her screams and cries of pain and straddling her. Overpowering her.

Steve didn't remember much after that.

His senses returned when she shook her head while his hands framed her soft face and was looking into the most lively and innocent, albeit scared, eyes.

If Steve wasn't sure about his feelings till then, he was now.

The moment those eyes met his, he knew for sure.

He was well and truly fucked.

He stepped away from her. A few more seconds and he would have snatched her into his arms, never letting her go. Ever.

But, he couldn't do that. So he did the next best thing.

He didn't look into her eyes again. Not once for the rest of the night.

-------- Day 1

He knew he really shouldn't go back to Asgards.

Not after knowing the effect she had on him.

What if she looked at him like that again?

What if she spoke to him?

What if she touched him?

Steve snapped himself out of that line of thought.

It was for the best if he left her alone.

And with the new Stark tech in place, she would be safe at the bar now.

------ Day 2

" and then Mia said, well that gown looks......" Sharon was going on and on about her day in fashion school.

This was the new routine. Sharon would call every day and nearly bore him to death. She literally had the exact same conversations with different people each day. Something about gowns and textile and silk.

She didn't even need to attend fashion school.

Mrs. Barnes pushed her only because her best "friend's" daughter was going to the same school and it was becoming a viral trend to brag about your children's accomplishments in high tea's.

Even if the said accomplishment was purchased by a hefty and generous donation to the school.

Not that Steve was complaining. He thanked God every day for this respite.

Maybe he should enjoy this time and go out with the boys, not waste it driving all the way across town to that tiny little bar.

----- Day 3

Hangover was a look that did not suit Steve. He had a terrible headache and his limbs felt loose.

How much did he really drink last night?

He pinched his eyes, trying to get rid of the building nausea.

He will just sleep off the hangover tonight.

A bar would be the last place he needs to be.

----- Day 4

What's the worst that could happen?

She would look at him?

Well, people look at him all the time. What's the big deal?

She would speak to him?

He can speak too. Thank you very much.

She would touch him?

He will die and go to heaven. No. NO. NO! He is a grown ass adult, If he can't handle platonic touching from someone he barely knows then he needs to go see a doctor. It's not like she would...no Stop! Get your mind outta the gutter Steven.

Maybe he should talk to her. Maybe she will have a crappy personality. Maybe they will become friends and she will friendzone him.

This is exactly what he needs to do - Stop idolizing her and get to know her as a real person.

Maybe that will help him and his crazy brain.

With these thoughts, Steve found himself sitting in Asgards near the windows. Head down, typing away.

He knew she was here. He was acutely aware of where she was all the time. Even if he appeared to be really into whatever was on his laptop.

"Hello stranger, thought I won't ever get a chance to thank you with a free drink "

She knocked on his table with her knuckles after placing his regular beer in front of him, forcing him to look up.

Only one thought crossed his head as he met her twinkling eyes, not an ounce of fear in them, only life, joy, brightness and a sparkle of amusement.

He was well and truly fucked.

#steve x reader #captain america x reader #au!steve rogers #mutual pining #marvel mcu

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imlostinsantacarla · 5 years ago

Text

Title: The Golden Serpents (Jane Volturi x Reader!Platonic)

Summary: The reader (a savage newborn) finds themselves before the Volturi in which to pay for the awful crimes they have recently committed. However, during the course of their brief trial, something ignites the darkness in them, something they desperately wish to keep at bay. The brief ordeal creates an electrifying show that wins them a high place in the Volturi... snug between two ominous cherubs for all eternity.

Word Count: 2,534

Warning’s: this is not a love story!, violence, pain, semi-manipulation?. let me know if I’ve forgotten anything.

Proof Reader: @roslaeahle ( literally, tysm for your help!! (: )

A haze of golden honey illuminated freely from the arched windows, high up in the throne room on a hot Italian summer’s day, and onto the empty space before the long standing kings of the vampire realm; a place designed for criminals such as yourself, destined to enunciate all of the cruel and dreadful crimes that you had committed. The most vital of all was the fact that you’d foolishly made yourself aware to the humans of Volterra with your savage newborn hunger, a dangerous testament to the knowledge your maker deigned to share before they had abandoned you during your painstaking change; leaving you at the mercy to the roaring dryness that impaled your throat every single time that the scent of luscious blood and bounding sounds of pumping hearts caught your senses.

In frequent cases, a newborn would have been extinguished without a single thought, but the stories and mental visions of your beauty and power was breathtakingly scrumptious to Aro that he simply could not risk the chance of allowing you to part with this world without witnessing it for himself first. It would be all too deviant of him and his fellow kings to allow such a vital and alluring gift to go to waste in the depths of hell, particularly so soon in the immortal life.

So here you stood, your frame twitching with an edge to it that was impossible to curb away without any form of frequent and strict lessons dedicated towards control, and your feral gaze cast itself in swift shifts across the room, picking up the porcelain faces surrounding you, those rich ruby orbs gazing into your soul with a piercing ache that only centuries of being cooped up could and would create. You were a young deep beauty, innocent to them, yet with the power to tear them apart in an instant if it wasn’t for the largest of this unruly coven holding your arms behind you with a force that could rip them off in one sudden move. The restraining grasp caused your eyes to strike with a vivid shine, twinkling so intensely with the blood of your beloved victims, none of the three kings could find even a scratch of sympathy for what you had done in your liquid gaze.

“Demetri, Felix,” The man in the middle with skin that appeared as thin and delicate as tissue paper breathed with a higher purpose, it only left your knees buckling and your breath hitching in your strong chest. “Bring them forward to me.” His eyes locked onto yours as they pushed you forward, hands still attached to you, without a second thought. Your knees crushed the ancient stone beneath you, smashing it like soft butter. Your breath halted once more and altogether, a now meaningless exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide, and your almond shaped eyes shut instantaneously, crinkling at the edges of what was to come.

“Now, now my dear…” He breathed, hand smoothing your frizzy yet smooth hair, though his voice was like a sociopathic angel’s, “no need to be frightened. I just want to see.” And the way he said it created an imaginary set of goosebumps to rise onto your frozen flesh before the tips of his fingers smoothed and skimmed over the apples of your icy cheeks, as though he were brushing away the tears that should have been there. An act of such false compassion, you wished he’d already let them kill you. But he only left you with a sense of intrusion and violation as he read your thoughts with no permission, as though you owed it to him in conjunction with your everlasting loyalty.

An eerie chime escaped his mouth as he tipped his head back and cackled. “So interesting! So powerful!” He gushed with the intensity of a child, a totally different personality from the fierce and terrifying judge he had been only two minutes prior when you had been silently begging for your life.

Your eyes snapped open with fierceness whilst a pulse of electricity flared through your veins, serpents dancing in and thawing out every frozen cell of your body, bringing you to life. He withdrew his hand with the help of a woman behind him, a shield coming up to block the physical attacks you so desperately wished to inflict on him and him alone. Your eyes began to shift from the vividly crazed crimson to a deep and golden amber, your hair wild and curly, fluttering from the way your body seemed to vibrate. With a flick of his fingers, Felix and Demetri lunged at you with such calculation you were surprised you managed to catch them the way you did, arms spread out, hands gripping nastily around their strong throats, though your strength didn’t last long; Felix was just as strong and overpowered you in mere moments, forcing you to your knees a bit further back.

A yelp of pain illuminated from your lips before your changed eyes settled on a cherub-like child with a mop of brown hair on top of his small head, but what horrified you the most was the velvety smoke of black sliding from his wrists and down onto the ground, crawling with a purpose, like a black jaguar, jaunting and calculated. You had a sense it would damage you in ways you could not possibly fathom, which frightened you the most. And as panic settled, you struggled uselessly against the two vampires restraining you until the smoke was an inch away, threatening to suck your senses into it and leave you with nothing.

The electricity burst from your being, colliding with the two vampires that restrained you and hurled them back into the wall a hundred feet behind you with such force it pulverized the stone bricks that they’d smashed into. They dropped to the ground with a crash, two lumps of granite no longer in control of their bodies but fully aware of what was going on. You slid back with the force, attempting to distance yourself from the ominous smoke, though it did little to help as it followed you with a mind of its’ own, delirious for the fact it wanted to consume you like a mouth-watering meal.

From the sides of your torso jutted out two golden silhouettes, slithering viciously with scales so detailed they appeared to be living priceless art. Mouths became agape at the beauty they relished, the smoke halting in place for a fraction of a second. They ejected from your sides, coursing with lightning only Zeus could possess before they hurled themselves at the young boy…

In all your life as a human, you’d always buried your darkness so deeply, but in your new form all it wanted was to escape it’s repression and wreak havoc; almost a pitiful revenge against the angel-like side of you. And for most of your mortal life the good side had been winning, but you were finding in your new body that the darkness was the only way for you to prominently survive out in this harsh world full of ghouls your parents had once told your over active imagination nor to worry about. And you couldn’t even remember if you were sorry to let this dauntless part of you inflict damage onto others or not… It had been so very long since you had allowed it at center stage.

A monstrous crack erupted through the focused room and the brown haired cherub buckled to the ground with a scream you swore your heart was torn in two. This wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you needed. Death was surely better than this, wasn’t it?

A scream tore your attention from the boy, a small girl, barely thirteen and just as angel-like as the boy made eye contact with you. For a moment all you could focus on was her delicate fare features, so snow-like she appeared dead; and her hair was as white as angel feathers, it almost made you smile. But before you could react, an agonizing pain seared through you as though somebody had branded you with a glowing red hot iron rod, as though you were boiling alive. And you screamed so loudly your knees buckled beneath you and had you writhing in place, your serpents of liquid electrifying gold fell to the ground, squirming on either side of the boy, attempting to return to the vessel from whence they came from. A sob raked from you as you sucked in air. You felt as though you were drowning, so much pain erupting in your lungs you felt lightheaded.

And what felt like centuries that drew on and on were only mere seconds before Aro lifted his hands and murmured softly to the poor little girl who had tortured you. The pain halted and you laid there painting for a few moments, exhausted but taken back by the breathtaking beauty this child-like creature bestowed. You were almost glad you never got to officially come face to face with her brother’s powers.

“Enough, Jane.” The snow white haired man uttered, articulating each syllable with importance. She stopped, though would not quit staring at you with the anger and rage of a child; the dangerous look of vengeance plastered on her countenance. She was unhappy with you and a part of you wasn’t bothered by it at all, only grateful that someone had stopped you from combusting under her cruel glower of hatred.

You sat up just in time for the other guards to begin regaining feeling in their limbs, their red eyes still staring at you unblinkingly. The serpents deftly slumped towards you, wriggling up and down more like worms now as they sought out the comfort of your ice cold body, their vessel in which you carried them. A sigh of relief broke out of your slightly parted dry lips as they molded into you once more, an exhaustion taking over you whilst they settled, nestled inside of your embrace like injured children needing nurturing reassurance.

“I think we may have come to the conclusion that a gift such as yours, although we know little about it, may provide some astounding service to our coven.” Aro spoke up, legs crossed as he stared down at you with eyes that scared you; eye lit aflame as though he would personally kill you himself if he could not have you in his collection of gifted vampires. You swallowed thickly, chest rising and falling, rising and falling and repeating for several minutes.

“I would advise you to accept the offer with the utmost of gratitude.” Caius snapped immediately, a glower settling his countenance immediately, “It’s a gracious gift after you broke the most eminent law of our kind. One in which your creator should have informed you on, but I am sure we can find him or her and bring them in to punish them for the crimes they allowed you to commit.” He snarled impatiently, tightly gripping the armrests of his black elegant throne.

“I rather don’t think that’s necessary, Caius. We do not seek out punishment on those that did not do the crimes.” Aro stated matter-of-factly, leaning back in his seat as his eyes never left your frozen form. Caius went to open his mouth but with a wave of Aro’s hand Caius clamped his clamped his mouth shut with much reluctance. “I mean, after all, how could she deny such a wonderful opportunity to provide such a charitable role in our coven?” The way in which he stated this made you wonder if he really meant what he was saying.

“So, what do you say, (Y/N)? Will you join us or will you leave us?”

“I will join.” You hummed the words so softly it only sounded like a sigh to you, but was enough confirmation for Aro.

“Wonderful!” Aro clapped astoundingly, rising from his seat with an excitement that put you all the more on edge. You tilted your head to the side, wondering what on Earth had created him into being who he was now. A bewilderment shot through you, a honeysuckle glow catching your breathtaking skin and illuminating it as though you were made of tiny crystals. You hadn’t entirely figured out what you had gotten yourself into, but there was a numbing of all those that you felt ties to at one point, a sudden sense of loyalty washing over you for the three treacherous kings before you. Two of them beamed at you whilst the other scowled as though he wished he were dead.

“Welcome then!” Aro clapped enthusiastically as though it were meant to be a warm welcoming, and others joined in too, the sounds of their stone-like hands ringing in your ears.

“Master Aro!” An innocent voice like honey rolled into your ear drums as you turned to face it’s creator. The blond little girl’s eyes flickered from you to Aro and then back again.

“Yes Jane?” Aro seemed to soften his features towards the girl before him, as though she were his prized possession. You shivered at what you noticed and waited patiently for her to respond.

“Does that mean we get to keep them forever? Alec and I can play with them whenever we want?” The way she said it was a little eerie, but innocent and round as her crimson eyes.

“Yes, dear Jane. (Y/N) is now apart of our coven and here forever. You can play with them whenever you desire.” He rubbed his hands together before placing them over his mouth to suppress another giggle of terrifying joy.

“Yay!” She squealed, dragging her brown haired brother to his feet and skipping over to you with the grace of an angel. She took your hand in her small one and looked up at you. “We’re going to be best friends, you and I. But before we can get there you have to apologize to Alec for hurting him like that.” Her little bottom lip dropped down into a small pout, eyes so wide they were like two full moons. She really meant it when she said it, the sincerity was there. It was strange because only moments ago she was tearing you apart from the inside, and now she had settled on the fact of being your best friend for eternity, on the condition that you apologized to her brother.

A smile crept onto your face as though you were under a spell and your head shook from side to side in amusement as you came to your feet, hand still holding her very own with a tenderness a parent had for their child. “Only if you promise never to do what you did to me again. Then and only then will it be a done deal.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement and she gave you a determined nod that you could have believed, but you knew deep down her temper was wild, unruly because she would always have the mentality and temperament of a young girl with a cruel past created by a terrible village so terrified of her and her brother.

If you enjoyed this please heart, reblog and follow for more. 🌙❣

#jane #jane volturi #jane imagines #jane volturi imagines #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight saga #twilight saga imagines #twilight jane #twilight jane imagines #twilight jane volturi #twilight jane volturi imagines #jane volturi x reader #jane volturi x gender nuetral reader #jane volturi x platonic reader #thanks for requesting #admin kat

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avannak · 6 years ago

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I am just waiting for you to write what you thought about hiccup and toothless’s relationship tbh. It was off for me the whole movie and then I later found out that “toothless had forgotten his old life in berk and hiccup (in the ten years-later reunion)” in an interview. Felt like a slap in the face.

Outside of a couple moments where I thought Toothless could have been a little more protective over Hiccup (though I acknowledge they’re both Big Boys now) I thought their interactions were stellar.

So the “forgetting about Hiccup” thing…at first, yes, that came as a slap in the face. Like, no. They don’t go from platonic soulmates to forgetting in ten years.

But then I grudgingly played with the idea that Toothless is not human. He’s highly intelligent, but he does not have a human brain, and he’s gone completely feral. And it was by design.

Hiccup made sure to wait ten years. He cut Berk off from dragons cold turkey… outside of rescue missions to free any stragglers. Not only to help Berk disassociate from dragons, but to further ensure Greedy Humans™ wouldn’t stumble upon the Hidden World. The war lords are still grasping, searching. Across the world there were hunters: those seeking trophies and glory.

So Toothless is immersed with dragons again, and this time not as a slave. The first couple years he’d venture out looking for stragglers (parallel to what allied humans were doing) and ensuring they could follow the call back Home. Then he sends others. He’s king. He’s mated. Little by little he’s swallowed by instincts that had gone dull.

When he first senses—then sees—a human ship, centuries of Ancestral Instinct (books!) rear up screaming danger!.

He leaps to the stempost of the ship for a confrontation, rattled by the alpha instinct to protect.

When Hiccup first holds out his hand, if you look, you’ll see Toothless’s pupils dilate for a split second, as though the flicker of a memory is triggered.

Then, all it takes is a sniff—a secondary source of sensory information—and it all comes back. It was buried, not forgotten. Perhaps an AI that he’ll pass down genetically; that humans are capable of good and can be worthy of trust.

I like to think that those first ten years were the longest Hiccup had gone without seeing Toothless in his life (not including his first fifteen). He and Astrid were the only two humans to ever see the Hidden World, as far as anyone knows, and they keep it in the family. They make it a family legacy to visit, and protect, the entrance to that world. And to tweak up the Dragon King’s tailfin every now and then.

Even now, today, there could be the sheltered remains of that lineage who still know the entrance, having it passed down from generation to generation.

Maybe, like the books, it was only for Toothless. That each generation of Hiccup’s descendants would continue to look after Toothless’ tailfin.

I 100% think Zephyr’s the first to take on that role.

#Toothless #Hictooth #HTTYD #HTTYD3 #THW #hellodawling #Thank you for asking #give me 70 year old Zephyr taking her grandkids to see Toothless #showing her grandson how to properly oil the gears #they always collect scales with each visit to ensure they have enough to fashion a new tailfin should they need to #HTTYD3 spoilers #HTTYD3 talk #THW talk

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baepsaets · 6 years ago

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sunny day pt. 5 ~ park jimin

pairing: hybrid!jimin x reader

rating: sfw (brief nsfw mentions)

word count: 5.1k

summary: you’re a veterinary student specializing in hybrid care when you get a call in the middle of the night that a feral hybrid has broken into the clinic where you work.

a/n: this is the final pt before the epilogue! i’ve made the epilogue a separate thing because (and i’m warning you all now) it’s going to be nsfw, so for those who aren’t interested in such material, this is the ending for you! thank you all for sticking with me during this writing process, this is the first series i’ve ever written and i’ve had such a good time writing it and reading all of your generous feedback. much love!

part 01 02 03 04 05 epilogue

Jimin started school in the fall.

It was a relief, not having to worry about leaving him home alone too often. The weight of your senior year was hanging heavy over you, and with the looming threat of graduate school on the horizon, having Jimin by your side to cope with stress was making all the difference in the world.

Sometimes the two of you would come home and collapse into bed, Jimin physically exhausted from dance practice and you mentally exhausted from studying. The two of you alternated dinner duty and split cleaning down the middle. Jimin’s dance studio was further out of the city than your campus, and you found yourself waking up early in the morning to drop him off at practice and picking him up later in the evening when you were done with school. It was a comfortable rhythm that turned into a routine, with your time split between school and the shelter, and Jimin taking up any time in-between.

But no amount of work or studying could distract you enough to stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

Since being released from the hospital, Jimin had been clingier than ever—Jin had warned you that would happen. In order to cope with the foreign drug in his system, his body had instated a new hormonal balance to counteract the effect. Without the drug, his body needed to renormalize, which meant his hormonal balance was out of control. The first month felt like you were living with a teenage girl on her period.

He either ate everything or nothing, pushing his food around his plate before waking up in the middle of the night to eat an entire carton of ice cream. He couldn’t watch a single k-drama without crying during the first episode. He would snap at you when annoyed, then wrap himself around you a minute later, mumbling apologies into your neck and stroking gently up and down your spine.

His touching was incessant. Jimin was constantly pawing needy at your hand, draping himself across you on the couch, pulling you to his chest in the middle of the night and wrapping his tail around you to prevent you from moving. To say it was driving you insane would be an understatement; you were one woman, and your self-control could only be stretched so thin. You’d taken more cold showers in the past month than in your entire life.

The moodiness faded, but the touching remained. It was a struggle when Jimin started school and couldn’t be with you all day—he called you between classes just to hear your voice, and practically crawled into your lap when you picked him up after school, stroking lightly down the side of your neck. Sometimes he called the clinic while you were at work, and if you were too busy to talk, he’d joke with Jungkook until Namjoon scolded him to get back to work.

Jin said the clinginess would remain until Jimin’s first heat, but there was no telling when that would be. It may have been immature, but sometimes it hurt just to imagine it. You’d known when you’d adopted him that he’d need a heat partner, yet imaging him with one now made your chest constrict. You scoured the internet daily for possible hybrid women advertised online, but each one left a bad taste in your mouth. Jimin’s upcoming heat was a challenge you were leaving for the future, because it took most of your energy just to resist jumping him on the kitchen counter.

Even without the touching, you would be struggling to keep yourself in check. After admitting that he was abused in the past, Jimin opened his heart to you like a flower under sunlight, and you did the same in return. Jimin knew more about you than people who’d known you since childhood. He was the first face you saw in the morning and the last one you saw before bed. He nurtured you in his own way, making sure you didn’t overwork yourself and caring for you when you did.

But still you held yourself back. It didn’t feel appropriate, feeling that way for Jimin when you were in such a position of power over him. The last thing you wanted to do was to take advantage of him, or worse—have him agree to be with you just to make you happy, or because he thought it was expected of him, and not based upon any desire of his own. The thought kept you up at night, feeling Jimin’s breath hot and soft against the crook of your neck, and you wallowed in misery wondering why you couldn’t be satisfied with just being his friend.

You wanted Jimin to stroke the hair from your face. You wanted him to kiss you on the lips, nuzzle his face into your neck, stroke down your body in a way that had nothing to do with platonic friendship. You wanted to see his eyes darken with desire and every time you looked at him, every time he innocently brushed his hand across your skin, the feeling grew stronger.

You were picking Jimin up from practice in early October when he ran to the car instead of walking, dance bag slung tight over his shoulder. He threw open the passenger door with more force than necessary, and the door creaked in protest; sometimes even Jimin forgot his own strength.

“They want me to do a solo, they want me to do a solo, they want me to do a solo,” he cried, crawling across the console to hug you. It was cramped and messy, you were afraid Jimin was going to hit the gear shift and throw the car in reverse, but you couldn’t help but laugh as he tried to fit himself between you and the steering wheel. His knee was digging uncomfortably into your side as you tried to return the hug, but there wasn’t enough room for you to do anything except stay still and let Jimin burrow closer.

“What?” you asked, reaching up to cradle his head before he smacked it on the roof of the car.

Jimin grinned at the gesture. “My instructor pulled me aside after class today and asked me to audition for a solo in the performance at the end of the semester. I was too nervous to do it on my own, but she told me if I danced even half as well during the audition as I do in class, I’ll get it.”

You gasped, “Jimin, that’s fantastic.”

He shifted further until he semi-straddled you, one knee indenting the seat between your legs. He was curled above you like an umbrella, tilting your head up until he could press his forehead against your own and grin.

“I’m excited, but I’m also really nervous,” he said. “What if I mess up?”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And even if you do, it’s only your first semester and you have plenty of time to improve. What did Hoseok say?”

“He was more excited than I was. He invited me out Friday night with him and Yoongi to celebrate, do you want to come?”

You considered it. “I have a paper to finish, I’m sorry. But don’t let me stop you.” If you were being honest, it thrilled you to see Jimin hang out with people outside of you. You didn’t want him to think that he wasn’t allowed to go out unless you were with him.

Jimin hummed. The hand holding his head shifted until you were stroking his hair, scratching behind one of his ears and making him purr. He pressed himself closer, relaxing into your body despite the cramped position. Without meaning to, his knee nudged upward until his thigh was pressed flush against your core.

You suppressed a gulp. This was the situation you went out of your way to avoid—Jimin’s senses were so heightened, any influx in your arousal would be immediately noticeable. You repressed the urge to rub against him and stealthily tried to shift backward, but he had you pinned between his body and the seat. To him the situation seemed innocent, but your body couldn’t help but react. Jimin’s breath on your cheek was hot, but not as hot as the heat steadily building in your stomach.

His nose brushed your cheek, and his hair fell forward to tickle your temple as he leaned closer and murmured, “(Y/N).”

You turned your head away. Jimin froze, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. Putting this distance between the two of you hurt, but you knew it was necessary. “We need to get home so I can start dinner.”

Immediately Jimin crawled into the passenger seat, and while he made casual small talk during the drive home, he was much more subdued than he’d been before. More guilt filled your throat.

You wondered if you should just tell him. It would make it easier for you, not having to worry about accidentally exposing yourself. But the lingering thought of Jimin dating you out of moral responsibility stuck in your mind, where insecurity flourished.

The next night, Jimin glanced at you from underneath full lashes during dinner, grinning shyly, and asked, “Do you want to stop by practice on Friday?”

A warning bell went off in your head, but you nodded anyway. You’d never seen Jimin dance before, as he was much too shy to practice in the living room. Hoseok had approached you the first week of the semester to grill you about Jimin’s dance history because apparently, in his phrasing, “He’s ridiculous, (Y/N), you really found this guy on the street? He could make a professional weep.”

Since then, you’d been morbidly curious. But never one to pressure, you waited patiently until Jimin came to you. That Friday you drove to his studio directly after class, and found him alone with Hoseok, who was practicing for his own solo audition. It was their plan to stay and practice and then pick Yoongi up, the three of them heading out for dinner. You were tempted to join them but knew that your paper wasn’t going to write itself.

You walked into the practice room while Jimin and Hoseok were in the middle of a routine. You’d seen Hoseok dance before and knew he was good—better than good, utterly fantastic, but when your gaze landed on Jimin it almost took your breath away.

Watching Jimin dance was a religious experience.

You were deftly reminded that he was a predatory hybrid, observing the way he moved with such power and precision. You’d never seen someone lose themselves so thoroughly to passion. His fluidity was breathtaking, and you understood why his dance instructor picked him out of the class specifically to audition. He didn’t demand your attention like Hoseok, but rather enticed it until you were helpless to look away.

Not to mention that Jimin looked like an entirely different person when he danced. Gone was the sweet hybrid who curled up in your lap to watch television. Here was a grown man, covered in a light sheen of sweat, twisting his body sensually, purposefully, like he was seducing an unseen audience. Heat creeped up your throat, and you were tempted to turn around and wait in the car. But then Jimin noticed you, and it was too late.

He stopped dancing to run up and give you a sweaty hug. He released you before the heat of his body could warm you to the core, and Hoseok went next, jabbing you playfully in the side and complaining about how you were interrupting practice. You sat on the sideline and watched, trying to distract yourself from following Jimin’s body with your gaze. You couldn’t afford to noticeably drool over him with Hoseok in the room, who was thankfully oblivious to your sudden shyness.

Hoseok practiced for a bit more before retiring to get a drink, claiming he was going to take a quick shower before they left. Jimin waited almost too eagerly for him to leave before turning to you the second the door was shut

“Follow my lead,” he said, turning on a different song. It was a slower song, with a heavy beat that was easier to follow. It thrummed in your chest. Jimin danced a brief routine and turned back to you, “Do you think you can do that.”

You stared at him. “No, I already told you I can’t dance—!”

“You owe me!” he whined, and then came closer, murmuring, “You know I’ve been waiting to watch you dance since the first night we met.” He demonstrated the brief routine again, and you eyed the door warily before turning back to him. You’d never live it down if Hoseok walked in and realized how truthfully horrid you were at dancing.

You tried to mimic Jimin’s movement but the imitation was poor, making you laugh in self-deprivation. Jimin could sense your lack of confidence and slipped behind you, resting his chin over your shoulder and placing a hand on your hip. “A lot of the motion actually comes from your knees.”

Swallowing hard, you said, “Yeah?”

Jimin hummed and nodded, swiveling his hips and pressing into your back. He was plastered against you. His gaze was downcast, looking down your body as you watched him in the mirror. Your own flushed face was reflected back at you, Jimin’s body snug against your own, compact and muscular and radiating an unnatural amount of heat.

“Can you feel the beat?” he asked, breath almost cold against your neck as his exhale caught the sweat drying on your skin. You could barely even hear the beat over the blood rushing in your ears, but you nodded anyway.

Jimin moved against you again and you followed him, letting him take the lead. After a minute of struggling you fell into rhythm, moving seamlessly with Jimin to the music, and the heat of the moment left you for a split second when you realized how well you were doing.

“That’s good,” Jimin grinned. You could feel him purring, the deep vibration rumbling through your body and making you shudder. You liked feeling him against you, it was distracting, intoxicating. Your body wasn’t even moving to the music, but rather moving against his, letting it guide you and sway you in a manner you could never achieve on your own. It felt effortless and you couldn’t get enough of his chest against your back, his hand on your waist.

You reached up without thinking and threaded one hand through his hair, throwing your head back on his shoulder. You could feel his breath on your neck, and the next time you looked in the mirror, you realized he was already looking right at you.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Hoseok called, “Jiminie, are you still practicing?”

You hopped away from Jimin like you’d been burned. The sudden cold against your back was jarring, and you thought you heard Jimin snarl quietly before replying, “Yeah, I’ll be finished in a second.”

“I’ll be in the locker room,” Hoseok said before walking away, leaving the door unopened. You were grateful beyond belief, because your traitorous heart was beating a mile a minute in a way that had nothing to do with exercise.

“Have fun tonight with Hobi and Yoongi,” you told him, trying to control your breathing. You picked up your backpack and made a hasty retreat toward the door. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

When you got home, you were mentally exhausted. You worked on your essay as long as you could before it was pointless, because you couldn’t focus when your mind was so preoccupied with Jimin.

Maybe you should apologize for your behavior. Surely he was wondering why you kept pulling away from him, pushing him away. Jimin wasn’t an idiot and deserved more than that.

You remembered what Jungkook had said in the hospital. He has a right to know. Was that true? Did it matter, when there was nothing he could say to change your mind? He was your best friend, your favorite companion, but you were his owner. There were boundaries.

But deep down you knew that was just an excuse to you, because the fact of the matter was, you were too afraid to tell Jimin how you felt because you were afraid of rejection.

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until you were jerked awake by a sudden weight on the couch. Jimin was crawling on top of you, and you grunted when he collapsed and settled down, head resting heavy against your stomach and one arm winding around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Hey,” you mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep. “What time is it?”

Jimin made a vague sound in the back of his throat. He nuzzled against your shirt, drawing it up until you could feel his warm breath over your bare skin. You threaded one hand through his hair and he purred when you trailed a finger up his ear. “Like three.”

“In the morning?”

He giggled. Craning your neck, you observed the bleak darkness outside your living room window and smacked him on the shoulder playfully. “You’re late. I tried waiting up for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he pouted, with a slight lisp. It caught your attention, and you realized he felt like an inferno on top of you, radiating a frankly concerning amount of heat. You tapped on his chin until he raised his head high enough to look at you, and his gaze was glazed over like icing on a donut, catching in the low light.

“Are you drunk?” you asked, and Jimin exploded into another round of giggling. “Oh, my God, you are. How did you get in here?”

“Yoooongi-hyung helped me,” he laughed. “Hobi-hyung couldn’t get out of the car.”

Knowing Hoseok when he was drunk, you were surprised he hadn’t fallen asleep at the bar. No doubt he had been asleep in the backseat, leaving Yoongi to help Jimin upstairs before driving them both home.

“How much did you drink?” you asked. You felt him shrug, and he seemed to like the sensation, because he shrugged again and again in rapid succession, still giggling.

You laughed at the incredulity of it. You’d never seen Jimin drunk before, but it warmed your heart to see him so light-hearted and bubbly. You stared at the ceiling and sighed in contentment. When you looked back down you realized Jimin was staring at you again, intense enough to make you want to squirm.

(Y/N),” he said. “(Y/N), (Y/N). Why don’t you like me?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, but you still laughed absent-mindedly. “I like you, Chimy. Why wouldn’t I?”

“No, you don’t,” he insisted, eyes rounded. “Not like—like—,”

But you never figured out how you didn’t like Jimin, because he groaned and dropped his head back down onto your stomach, too exhausted to hold it up. You internally cooed at how cute drunk Jimin was, before he sucked in a deep breath and started mouthing at your sternum, sucking the material of your shirt into his mouth and wetting it with his tongue.

Time for drunk Jimin to go to bed.

You wiggled, trying to shift out from underneath his weight. He let out a tortured groan and tried to stand up but stumbled, and you caught him before he could fall on his face. You supported his weight, but he ended up wrapping himself around you in a proper hug, his breath rustling the hair at the nape of your neck.

“(Y/N),” he murmured, swaying. For a flash you were reminded of his dance practice, how it felt to move against him, in tandem. “You smell good. Have I ever told you that?”

The breath whooshed out of your chest when you felt Jimin’s lips brush the sensitive skin behind your ear. “Yes, you have. Let me get you to bed, okay?”

It was an absolute chore just getting him down the hallway. He was determined to be no help, nosing at your neck and rubbing his cheek against your own. He could barely walk in a straight line and was ridiculously sweaty, like he’d ran a marathon. When you finally wrestled him into the bedroom, you had to brace yourself on the bed to catch your breath.

“(Y/N),” he demanded, throwing himself onto the bed. His shirt pulled up and you stared at the pale strip of bare skin exposed to your hungry gaze. “Touch me.”

You gaped at him, still panting. “What?”

“It’s hot,” he whined. He rolled around until he was spread-eagle, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “I’m hot, touch me. Touch me. Touch meee—,”

“Cut that out!” you cried, as he started unbuttoning his jeans. Jimin groaned again and dragged his shirt up until it was bunched around his chin, entire chest and abdomen uncovered.

Jimin had been raw-boned and skinny when you’d met him, but after almost half a year of eating well and dancing, his body was much more built. Still thin, but toned and leaner, coiled with sinewy muscles that bulged when he moved. With a wet gasp, you panicked and turned your back when he yanked the shirt over his head.

Jimin was grunting in his effort to remove his clothing, and your imagination was running wild. Your face was flushed hot enough to burn. He let out a low growl and you heard the mattress start thumping. When you turned back around, Jimin was almost completely naked, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his sweat-stained shirt discarded next to the bed. One leg was free while the other was trapped in his pant leg, and you realized it was because he’d never taken off his shoes.

You hoped he was too drunk to remember tonight in the morning because for a moment you paused, slack-jawed, simply staring at Jimin’s exposed body. He let out a low whine that sent a bolt of heat through your core.

“Quit moving,” you hissed, approaching him. He was bouncing up and down hard enough to slam your headboard into the wall. “You’re going to wake up everyone on this floor.”

You didn’t even want to imagine the impression your neighbors had of you now. At the foot of the bed, you shucked the shoe off his free foot and made a grab for the other. Pinning his second leg down, you maneuver his other shoe off. Once it was gone you tugged down his pant leg and left him in nothing but his underwear.

Jimin sighed and stopped squirming. He reached a hand out to you, and his tail was thumping restlessly at his side. “Come here.”

“You’re the worst drunk I’ve ever seen,” you said, instead of complying. You crawled onto the bed briefly, intending to grab yourself a pillow before retreating to the couch, until Jimin sat up suddenly and his face was only inches from your own.

He sighed your name and your stomach clinched. Reaching forward, he dragged one hand down your arm before grasping your hand in his own. He leaned forward and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

He’s going to kiss me, you thought suddenly, joyously, until the sharp bite of reality set in. You jerked at the last moment and his mouth brushed your cheek. You pulled away from him and let go of his hand. He stared at you with a dark, bottomless gaze that left you shivering, although you couldn’t figure out what the look in his eyes meant.

“Jimin,” you whispered, and before you could stop yourself, your hand came up to cup his cheek. It was wrong, this was wrong. Jimin was your hybrid and he was intoxicated and you shouldn’t be enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N),” he murmured again, and your chest was twisting. His head dropped until his forehead was brushing your chin, and you gently pushed him back until he was flat on his back.

“Get some sleep,” you told him. You almost made it off the bed before Jimin reached out and flexed his fingers, like a child reaching for their favorite toy. He was asking you to stay without saying it out loud, either too tired to move his mouth or unsure of what even he himself was trying to say.

You knew you should reject him, press his wrist against the mattress and spend a lonely night tossing and turning on the couch, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone in such a vulnerable state.

And so, you relented, crawling back into bed and settling on the very edge. Jimin mumbled incoherently but seemed to finally be at that point of drunkenness where he was too tired to do anything but lay there. It was too hot to be comfortable, but you’d chop off your own foot before stripping and sleeping next to Jimin unclothed with your self-control tattered.

He must have been too hot to cuddle, but he scooted backward until his back was pressed against your own, spine digging into your skin. Once he was touching you he sighed in relief, relaxing as his tail wound lazily around your thigh. Curled up, you hugged your own pillow to your chest and let your eyes fall shut, falling asleep under the oppressive heat of Jimin’s body and your blanket.

~~~

You woke up that morning to a sudden weight being lifted off the bed, followed by terrible retching coming from the bathroom. Your shirt was slicked to your body with a mixture of Jimin’s sweat and your own, and you felt sticky and gross. A quick glance at your phone confirmed that it was only seven in the morning, and your alarm wasn’t set to go off for another hour.

You grumbled and stretched, popping your back in the process. You’d slept terribly, but you hadn’t expected any less. Rolling off the bed, you padded into the bathroom and found Jimin in the ever-growing familiar position of head-in-toilet. His back was heaving, and he kept brushing the hair off his forehead as he emptied everything in his stomach.

After a long minute, he finally reached an impasse, spitting into the water. You handed him a towel and he didn’t look up as he wiped his mouth, returning to his ready position. He looked like he could throw up again at any moment.

“You want a headband?” you asked, patting his back sympathetically.

Jimin groaned, and it echoed in the toilet bowl. “Why are you always around when I throw up?”

“Because I love you,” you chirped, voice teasingly light. “All of you. Even the hungover part.”

He groaned again, white-knuckled gripping the porcelain. You combed a hand through his hair, keeping the near-dripping, sweaty mess off his forehead. Swiping a comforting thumb down his cheek, you were surprised when he leaned up and stared at you, skin still sallow. For a moment you felt like he was looking right through you, staring at a part of you that no one had ever cared to notice before.

“I love you, too,” he admitted, and your heart clenched. (Y/N). Touch me. Come here. Jimin hadn’t been in his right mind last night. He may love you, but not in that way—just how a friend would love a friend.

“How much of last night do you remember?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

Jimin looked sheepish. “I don’t even remember leaving the bar.”

You were so relieved you laughed. Standing up, you went into the kitchen and got him a glass of water. He drank the water greedily, but you wanted to wait to give him pain medication until you were sure he was done throwing up. He was still sweaty and trembling, and you sat next to him on the floor and stroked his arm while he swiped at the sweat dripping down his temple.

“I might make breakfast,” you said, eyeing his face. “In the mood for anything particular?”

His face went pale at the mention of food, and you laughed again as he leaned shakily over the toilet bowl, preparing for another round. You left to grab the Ibuprofen.

Jimin got notified a week after his audition that he got the solo. Hoseok had a solo as well, and the three of you, along with Namjoon, Jungkook, Taehyung and Yoongi, went out drinking to celebrate. Even Jin made it out, after running home to thoroughly sterilize himself of the scent of the shelter. Jimin didn’t indulge near as much as last time, but Taehyung watched you all get tipsy in amusement from his seat at the end of the bar, nursing a bottle of soda.

The closer Jimin got to his performance, the more nervous he got. You tried to comfort him when you could, cuddling closer on the couch, wrapping around him in bed and stroking his hair until he fell asleep with a tight-fisted grip on your t-shirt.

That night, to say Jimin rocked his solo was an understatement—he was transcendental, capturing the attention of the audience with barely the flick of his wrist. You watched him in awe and cheered like crazy when he was finished. At the end of the performance you maneuvered your way backstage, until Jimin emerged and followed your scent to were you were, throwing himself at you and wrapping you into a hug.

Time was suspended, but you nuzzled closer to him. He pulled back and cupped your cheek with one hand, grinning in affection. He rubbed his sweaty forehead against your own and laughed when you cringed.

“Was I good?” Jimin asked. His eyes were sparkling like a cloudless night sky and you were drowning in them, sucked so deep you were sure you would never find your way out.

You wrapped yourself around him again and sighed in comfort, and it was home. Everything about him felt like home. “You were fantastic.”

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bad-decisions-at-2am · 6 years ago

Text

Prompt: “Bite me”, “If you insist”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing: Prinxietceit (Roman/Virgil/Deceit)

Rating: E (Sexual content-- biting, blood, double penetration, implied extreme BDSM/ RACK)

Notes: This is fluff and smut so take the rating seriously and don’t jump in unless you’re ready for it. The boys are in an established relationship but the use of the truth venom is somewhat under negotiated.

For @followthewind-song a lovely friend who gave me way too much freedom and encourages my bad decisions.

Roman’s pretty sure that Deceit is jealous. He doesn’t know what sets off the first little ping in his brain, but all of the sudden he catches himself turning to check in with the other facet more and more whenever the three of them are together. Because jealous is dangerous. Jealous is bad. It took ages for the three of them to realize that maybe they could make this work and the idea of something as stupid and easily managed as jealousy pushing them apart makes him sick to his stomach. But he doesn’t want to confront Deceit before he figures out the cause, not when the other facet’s entire shtick is lying. And unlike Logan and Patton who have laser-like accuracy spotting Deceit’s lies and half-truths, he still gets fooled a good amount of the time. If he doesn’t have the facts when he goes into this discussion Deceit might just brush him off and they won’t be able to fix whatever’s going on.

And he just can’t stand that idea.

The thing is he doesn’t get why Deceit would be jealous. The three of them spend a fair amount of time all together and they do a pretty good job balancing the times when only two of them are around as well. It’s not like he and Vigil are fucking more when Deceit’s not there, and for that matter Roman’s fairly sure that he’s slept with Deceit more in the past month than he has with Virge alone. And he knows that Virgil and Deceit are still scening regularly, doing things that are a more intense than what Roman prefers to get up to. Their platonic hang outs seem to be going well too, and Deceit doesn’t seem to be angry at him, or Virgil, so he really has no leg to stand on if he tries to confront him.

Cool lips brush against his temple and Roman blinks hard, remembering where he is. “What’s going on up there, Princey?” Deceit murmurs, tightening the arm wrapped around his chest. The TV is still humming, the quiet drone of The Princess Bride filtering back into his hearing.

Roman swallows back the urge to lie. It would probably be a bad idea when the partner holding him can literally taste insincerity. “I was just thinking about you.” He leans back, angles his head so he can press his lips to the patch of scales underneath Deceit’s chin.

Deceit hums again before leaning down to kiss him and Roman thinks he’s starting to get a hang of half-truths.

“Have you noticed anything unusual going on with Deceit?” Roman asks Virgil as they reorganize his CDs. He’d asked why CDs when all Thomas’s music has been digital for years, but Virgil had just shrugged and said, ‘nostalgia’.

“Unusual how? Did he try to eat his shed skin again?”

Roman jolts. “What? Again?”

Virgil’s eyes shine mirthfully. “I’m kidding Ro, he’s never tried to eat his sheddings.” But the joke just leaves him feeling more off-balance than he was before. The smile melts off Virgil’s face and he reaches for Roman’s arm, carefully touches his sleeve instead of his skin. Roman sees his own shadow quiver before it tentatively reaches out to his partner and coils over his skin. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried. I feel like something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on it.” He doesn’t need to admit his worry, not when Virgil can pull it out of him at a touch, but he still feels like it has to be said. “Have you noticed anything?”

“He’s been a little quiet. I think he’s in his own head too much right now.” He lets Virgil wrap his fingers around his wrist, bring his hand up so he can press a kiss to the palm. “Do you want to talk with him?”

“Does he normally pull himself out of things like this?” Virgil and Deceit were Dark Sides together, Virgil’s known him the longest, been with him the longest. Roman trusts his judgement when it comes to knowing their third.

“Usually.”

“Let’s wait a little bit then. I don’t want to pressure him.” Virgil looks up at him then and his eyes are so warm that Roman feels his face start to heat. “What?”

“He’d appreciate that.”

When Deceit finds them hours later Virgil doesn’t wake as the stream of light from the hallway falls across the bed. Roman feels the mattress dip behind him and then there’s another pair of arms curling around his body.

“Looks like the two of you had fun today.” Deceit murmurs against the side of his neck and Roman shivers as his lips brush over a particularly sore mark. He loves Virgil’s teeth in the moment, but he always almost regrets it afterwards. Deceit’s lips trail up the side of his jaw and he can’t help the soft hiss that escapes him as the other finds another tender bruise. Immediately the cool mouth withdraws and Roman wants to ask for it back.

“Would’ve been more fun with you.” Roman says, turning to try and catch the other in a kiss without dislodging Virgil.

“Next time.” Deceit agrees as he presses his lips to Roman’s soft and chaste. It makes his chest tighten with wrongness. His fingertips brush carefully over the raised welt of teeth marks maring his shoulder. And Roman can feel his lips twitch into a little frown.

It doesn’t make sense. Deceit and Virgil go a lot further than a few bites when they’re scening together, far enough that it wouldn’t be safe for a real person. Hell, once Virgil asked if Roman could make them a length of barbed wire to bring into the bedroom. And neither of them had minded when he said he wasn’t ready for that yet, that he’d let them know if he ever was. Biting wasn’t on his list of hard limits. It was just the mauling and disemboweling that he suspected Virgil and Deceit got up to that he didn’t think he could handle. But Deceit has always touched him softly he half thought the more violent fantasies that the other two explore had been Virgil’s idea.

Now he’s not so sure.

“Virgil!” The name leaves him on a gasp as sharp nails carve into his hips. His cock twitches as he feels hot trails of blood start to slide across his skin, mingling with his sweat. A gloved hand reaches down and smears it over his thigh before it snakes between his and Virgil’s bodies and curls around his cock. Roman keens, head falling back against Deceit’s shoulder, as he tries to stop shaking. Virgil and Deceit rock their hips together, their cocks moving steadily inside him and he feels so full that he hardly knows how there’s any room in his body for air. Trapped between their bodies, impaled on their cocks, he can feel every hot patch of skin and cool press of scales against his front and back and the sensation is enough to make his head spin. He turns to catch Deceit’s lips with his own as Virgil bites along his throat, his teeth morphed into long black fangs that would give anyone with a shred of sense pause, instead Roman just tries not to let this end too soon. Deceit’s mouth meets his, hot and eager, forked tongue flicking into his mouth and mapping out the space behind his teeth. But it’s still… soft. Passionate of course, Roman can’t help put push his own ferver into his lovers skin, but the kiss has a careful feel to it. He tries to focus, licks his way into Deceit’s mouth, flicks his tongue over the distinct points of his fangs--

Only for the other to pull away sharply, stroking him faster as if he’s trying to divert Roman’s attention to the abrupt parting.

Oh. Oh!

“Ah, fuck, Deceit,” he gasps as his and Virgil’s thrusts grow faster, deeper. Shit. This isn’t going to last much longer. “Bite me.” He pants and feels the rhythm of Deceit’s thrusts waver. It seems to catch Virgil’s attention as well, a black clawed hand reaching to slide over Deceit’s shoulder and around to grasp the back of his neck.

“I can’t.” And maybe it’s how close they are, or maybe, finally, Roman’s starting to be able to decipher the other’s cryptic tones, because he thinks he hears something mournful and self-loathing in the words.

“Yes you can, please.” He rolls his hips down on the cocks inside of him, hears his lovers hiss in pleasure as Virgil starts mouthing along the column of his throat.

“My venom,” Deceit starts,

“I know, don’t care. I want your teeth.” The truth venom is something they all know about. And it’s something that Roman hasn’t ever been particularly worried about. But he thinks Deceit has been. Thinks he’s built it up in his head that Roman’s wariness about doing some of the heavier stuff meant that he wouldn’t want to give up the amount of control the he knows will come with Deceit’s bite. He doesn’t mind. He’s not hiding anything from either of his lovers.

“Roman,”

“Bite me.” He says a little more forcefully, reaching a hand back to drag his nails roughly over a patch of scales on Deceit’s hip.

The hiss he gets out of the other is more feral this time, golden eye flashing, as he bares his teeth. “If you insist.” But he still doesn’t move.

“Come on now D, you heard him.” And Roman sees the tendons in Virgil’s wrist flex, hears the telltale popping of skin as his nails sink into the flesh of Deceit’s neck so he can force the other forward until Roman’s world narrows down to the pulse of their cocks inside of him and the heat of Deceit’s breath against his skin. And then there are two exquisite points of agony and heat surging through his veins and all he can do is gasp. “Do you want me too?” Virgil murmurs against the shell of his ear. But it’s too much, he can’t take another--

“Yes, please, Virge, please please--” distantly he realizes that the venom must already be kicking in but all he can think is about how much he wants another spike of agony to drag him over the edge. “Next time,” he begs. “Next time show me what you two do when you’re alone.”

“We’ll talk about it when you can lie.” Virgil agrees before his teeth sink into the other side of Roman’s neck. It’s all it takes for his spine to go taut and for his cock to give one last hard twitch in Deceit’s hand before he’s striping his and Virgil’s stomachs with cum.

He’s floating, his veins still singing with heat, for the few minutes it takes for Virgil and Deceit’s thrusts to grow erratic and unsynchronized. Until he can’t tell who it is that thrusts sharply and then fills him with even more heat, and who follows a moment later. He’s still floating as they pull out of him and lower exhausted body to the mattress. Oh. They stopped biting him at some point, huh. When did that happen. He can feel blood and cum going sticky on his skin and it’s not as nice as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll dress his wounds.” He hears Deceit murmur.

“I’ll clean him up and get him something to drink.”

“Bring a cold compress for his head. He’s going to get a fever trying to fight off the venom.”

Virgil leans over to give Deceit a kiss and there’s blood on both of their mouths. Roman’s cock twitches at the sight. “Mmm, maybe next time you should fuck me in the vampire costume.”

Virgil huffs a light against Deceit’s mouth before he slips out of the bed and towards the ensuite bathroom. Deceit just shakes his head before leaning over to his nightstand and pulling out a first aid kit from the bottom drawer. Roman cocks his head so he can see into it and, oh wow. That’s a lot of medical supplies.

“Are those rib spreaders?” He asks.

Deceit quickly puts back what he doesn’t need and shuts the drawer. He gives Roman a wry smile. “You sure you want to know what Virgil and I get up to without you?”

“I want to know everything about you.” The words come with little prompting. “I might not be up for all of it but you don’t have to treat me like glass, D. I trust you.” He sees Deceit’s expression shift minutely into something hard and unhappy and it makes his chest hurt.

“I’m more dangerous than Virgil, Roman. My venom could make you say or do something you’d regret if you were in your right mind.”

His limbs feel too heavy, but he manages to lift a hand to the side of Deceit’s face and stroke his thumb along the scales on his cheek. “You know my limits, and I know you’ll stop if I ask. I trust you D. And if you ask me again when I can lie I’m going to tell you the exact same thing.” He murmurs as Deceit starts to clean away the blood crusting over his skin with an alcohol pad. It hurts, but he’s still floating enough that he’s not particularly bothered by it.

“You might want to stop talking before you say something embarrassing, darling.” He advises before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Nothing embarrassing about how I feel.”

“I’m embarrassed for both of you.” Virgil says playfully as he slips back into the bed. He helps Roman to sit up enough to take a glass of water before he starts using a warm washcloth to clean cum from his skin. “You’re both disgustingly sappy.”

Roman floats as they take care of him, clean him up, dress his injuries, relaxing against the pillows. He’d been worried over nothing. Deceit wasn’t jealous, neither was Virgil. They’re okay. They’re going to keep being okay. And he wonders if it’s the venom surging under his skin that makes him so sure that’s the truth.

Taking prompts from this list

#prinxietceit #roceit #prinxiety #anxceit #deceit ship #sympathetic deceit #sanders side fic #fic prompt #grapefruit #citrus scale

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