#2. how did the owner know to block ao3????????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boolger · 8 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link ~ next chapter-> I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?”

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name.

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear.

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?”

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive.

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl.

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention.

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room.

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little.

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite.

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn’t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again.

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men.

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed.

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s- you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?”

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.”

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table.

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them.

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions.

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you.

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house.

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall.

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid.

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips.

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.”

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting.

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.”

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house.

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion.

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?”

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

898 notes · View notes

cocomanga · 6 days ago

Text

Line of Sight ~ Ch.01

Pairing: FA!Satoru x Black Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU, Angst, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Aggressive Sex, BDSM, Overstimulation, Dark Context, Physical and Emotional Abuse, Possible misc. triggers including race (I'm not sensitive, so if you are, please move on).

READER DISCRETION ADVISED. I plan to make this intense.

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art. Please respect my blog art.

Total WC : 9.5K

Line of Sight ~ Ch.02 - (Coming Soon)

LOS - Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Reader meets her shiny new neighbor through a mutual friend. After a memorable first impression, they quickly become closely acquainted. Yet, despite his polished demeanor, she soon learns his life isn't as it seems. Her only hope is that her new attachment doesn't lead to her own detriment, or his.

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶ LOS ~ Playlist

LINE OF SIGHT: 1. The line between two points. 2. A line from an observer's eye to a distant point. 3. A straight line along which an observer has unobstructed vision.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘ Ch.01 - Introductions ∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

“So, there will be a few other things we’ll need to go over, but that’s the gist for now. Here’s your key.” She says, as she pulls out a jingling set, complete with faux diamond charms.

“Thank you so much, Mei. I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help me out.” you replied, with genuine gratitude.

“Of course. Did you get moved in okay?”

You stood, draping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “I did. The movers were... Fantastic. Your recommendation was perfect.”

“Yeah, and they were quick too, right? Inexpensive, and very good. I’ve used them several times. A woman needs support in times like this, and they do an amazing job. In and out without damages or breaking the bank.” she gushed, with a hike in one of her brows.

“Oh my god, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve moved cheaply but lost valuables in the process to damage. Having that not happen’s the part I appreciated the most. Plus, It’s an amazing neighborhood, and my first home. I already feel so comfortable there.”

“It is an amazing neighborhood.” She agreed, walking you toward her office door as she leaned in to pull the brass knob. “Oh, and speaking of...” She continued, raising a finger, “I asked my secretary to mail a package to a colleague of mine, he’s a financial advisor that happens to be one of your neighbors. She addressed it to you by mistake. Would you mind giving it to him once you make it home? I can send him over to pick it up.” She turned and swiped a small envelope from her desk.

“Sure. I don’t mind.”

“I could send it by courier, but it’s already been here too long, I’d rather him receive it in person. I figured since you’ll be literally in the neighborhood, he can grab it himself.”

“Okay. No problem.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later. And let me know if you need any more help with the place. The paint in the front rooms is the only thing left to complete. Are you sure you want to do that on your own?”

“Yeah absolutely. I love painting. And besides, I can take the opportunity to put a spin on it myself. It’ll be satisfying to have my own special mark on my new place straight away.” You smiled.

“Knock yourself out.” She smirked.

“See you later, Mei. Have a great weekend.”

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

The seasons had changed.

Sunlight shined through the green of the lush trees, down onto perfectly groomed front lawns decorated with various plants and flowers as a few dogs walked their owners along the sidewalks where your new home stood, a small mediterranean style single family with plenty of foliage and character.

The neighborhood was mildly lively, and It’s been a beautiful morning. You were happy to have this brand-new environment to create in, moving almost mindlessly around your kitchen as you worked. The place was big, much bigger than all the apartments in the city you’d lived in. You loved them, but they hardly provided the space you needed for what you had to accomplish. You even had a second floor for the first time, like having your own lofted living space above your work area, which practically took over the kitchen and one of the front rooms.

You turned on your music and plopped your headphones over your ears, drowning out the world as you created beautiful and fragrant products with your own two hands. It was satisfying, relaxing, and so therapeutic.

You set your molds on the counter and poured one of the most aromatic batches yet, the fragrances filling the house as they floated gently on the breeze from your open windows. You’d just completed the pour and removed your headphones as the doorbell rang the second they hit the counter.

“Ugh...” you murmur, checking your hands for any lingering product as you made your way to the front door. “Impeccable timing.”

You open it, wafting in more of the fresh spring air inside, swiping one of your curly wayward locks behind your ear as you observed the extremely tall white–haired man towering at your doorstep.

“Um...” You peered around his figure for a car, or another person, that might have given you a clue as to what he was doing there. “Hello?” You say, tilting your head to the side, your lids lowering to a squint over a tiny smile.

He stood silently in a crisp, high quality powder blue button–down and sharp slacks, hands stuffed in the pockets, lips parting slightly, slowly, as his gaze lingered a little long behind a pair of round vintage shades that appeared to have cost a mint.

There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight on his garments, apart from the sleeves he rolled up to just before the fold reached his elbow, hovering above his Versace timepiece, settling on the wrist of his beautifully chiseled forearm.

You waited patiently for what you figured was a little too long without speaking, so you decided to do so. “M~maaay I help youuu?” Your eyebrows raised slightly, pupils constricting as you peered curiously through your lashes.

“Y-yea...” he finally responded. “I uh...” he shook his head quickly, breaking his daze as he spoke up. “I’m sorry... I’m Mei’s colleague, Satoru Gojo?” He leaned in slightly, holding out his large hand.

You reached out in response, slowly shaking it, still confused about what he was doing at your door as you waited for him to explain.

“I’m here to pick up a package left for me?”

Your mind had been submerged in your work. That task was placed so far on your mental backburner that you had all but completely forgotten. “Oh!” you flinched, squeezing your eyes shut, the memory hitting you like a ton of bricks as you released his hand, turning quickly back into the house from the front door, practically power walking past your unfinished front rooms, disappearing into your kitchen.

You yanked open one of the drawers under the counter as you rummaged for the envelope you thought you’d left right there. “Um... Mr. Gojo, please come in!” You yelled his direction from over your shoulder, wincing since you suddenly couldn’t find it. “I’m so sorry about this, I’m all over the place right now.”

“No problem at all.” He replies as he gently snaps the door shut behind him and steps in slowly. “I’m not exactly in a hurry.” He spoke a little louder from the living room as he stood in the middle of the floor. His eyes grazed along the walls and floors of your open foyer and living space, devoid of furniture, but with large paint cans and tarps on the floor, among other various materials. “Doing some painting”?

You scoffed mockingly at yourself, “Yeah uh...” You started, opening and closing another drawer. “Trying... well... I’m working at the moment... but...” You opened another one, none of them assigned particular items yet as you hadn’t gotten that far after moving in nearly two weeks ago. But you knew you’d put that envelope in here somewhere, for ’safe keeping’. “... that’s the next order of business.”

Gojo continued to look around with his eyebrows raised, witnessing what appeared to be a boatload of work to finish. Yikes... He thought to himself before he asked, “Looks like you could use a little help?”

“Tch... Story of my life...” you mumbled under your breath.

The fragrances you had just blended wafted through his senses as he waited patiently for you to emerge with his package. “What smells so good?” he asked, tilting his large body sideways in an attempt to peek into the room at you.

“Oh... I’m making soap.” You say, as the sound of rustling papers, random coins and miscellaneous knickknacks mussed about in the drawer.

“Soap? Really?”

“Yeah... It’s uh... it’s actually what I do for a living...” Where the hell did it go? You murmured to yourself. “Well... I make other things too. Candles, massage oils, you know... self-care stuff?”

“Nice...”

You finally track his package down in the drawer of the island, rolling your eyes. At some point you told yourself it would be easy to find if you put it in there instead, but apparently your safe keeping was too safe. Even for you. You swipe it from the drawer quickly and hurry back to meet him in your foyer. “Sorry about the delay on that.” you murmured with a grimace as you still held it tightly in your hand.

“No worries.” He says behind a smirk, entertained by your flustered disposition as he removes his glasses.

You look up at him, frowning as his eyes are unveiled. Your head tilts as you focus your sights on him. You’d never seen such eyes. Well, of course you had seen blue eyes but... his ... they appeared to have flecks of darks and light shades inside, a piercing, somewhat hypnotizing crystal–clear blue. They were mesmerizing. Your lips parted as you gazed, forgetting there was a man attached to them.

His smirk widened into a smile. “So, uh... what is that scent you’re making?” His voice snapping you out of your reverie.

“Oh, um... It’s sandalwood... and bergamot rose?” you replied, adding an upward inflection at the end of your statement as if implying a question in case he’d tried something like that.

Despite your amazement at his eyes, he seemed to have just as hard a time taking them off you. Your entire body was almost completely covered to avoid being splashed by the chemicals you used, and the adorable safety goggles you donned were pushed up against your curly locs which were held up by a floral scarf in a cute high ponytail. Your face was decorated with glittery colorants you somehow managed to smear there and along your neck, and your big, pretty eyes, round and dark, were framed by long curly lashes, gazing up beautifully in anticipation of his answer.

He leaned in, locking eyes with you, peering even deeper, “Do you think I could have one when you’re finished making it?” he asked, punctuating his sentence with a breathtaking smile.

“Oh... Of course. You like it?”

“I do. It’s beautiful.”

A bright, proud smile spread across your face. “Thanks.” your first satisfying, positive review. And from an apparently high–end customer also. “Congratulations.” you replied playfully, tapping him on the arm. “You’re my first client to request that fragrance. The process I’m using requires a four-week cure time...” You turned your face toward the kitchen, then swiveling it back to his gaze. “You think you can wait for it?”

His lids settled as he took in your radiant smile. “Definitely.”

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”

He pressed his brows into his forehead. “Twenty-five dollars?” he whined jokingly. “For a bar of soap?”

You pressed your lips together, nodding slowly. “I’m afraid so, sir... but...” you hiked out your thumb. “There’s a dollar store downtown that sells bars for much cheaper.”

He huffed, “Thanks, but I want that one. I hope it’s worth the bill.”

“Welp, there’s only one way to find out, right?” you held his envelope out toward him that he hadn’t yet taken.

He snickered, his gaze lingering before he finally answered. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Your eyes flicked down from his crystal blues to your outstretched hand in a few intervals before a blush crept across your cheeks.

“Uhm...” you inhaled deeply, his resting gaze stealing your breath, “Is there anything else I can do for you Mr. Gojo?” you giggled nervously.

“Satoru”. He muttered, speaking much softer than before, one of his eyebrows hiking up as he leaned in a touch, “Call me Satoru.” his warm skin barely making contact with yours as he swiped the package from your hand.

He was likely the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and just your luck he was also very much taken, considering you’d seen women coming in and out of the house that was supposed to be listed on his piece of mail.

You released it into his hand as you averted your gaze toward the floor, inhaling again deeply and clearing your throat as you slid your hands up the back of your thighs into your back pockets, working overtime to avoid blushing again.

“I’ll let Mei know I received it in one piece.”

“Thanks.” You replied. “I hope everything’s okay.” nodding toward the envelope. “I’d hate to think something too important was left here.”

Satoru shrugged. “S’probably just about five thousand dollars.”

Your eyes widened. “S’cuse me?”

He fanned himself with the envelope. “A little commission check.” He winked.

“A ’little’ huh?” You scoffed, frowning at his admission. “I’ll have to kill Mei for that, later.”

His smile lit you up even more before he turned on his heels toward the door. “See ya. S’nice meeting you. And I’ll look forward to using my soap.” He said, as you followed him out to the edge of your porch.

He walked to the end of your yard, fastening the gate shut as he turned toward his own, where a beautiful woman stood with hair as white as his, and an obvious frown on her face. She glanced your direction, then turned toward him, the crease in her brows deepening as he approached.

You could barely make out the words she spoke, but she didn’t seem happy. She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and turned back into the house where he followed.

Yup. Story of my life. You mumbled to yourself as you took another look up and down the street, filling your lungs with fresh air, as the leaves brushed together on the trees from the breeze. You turned your face toward the sky as you allowed the sun to kiss your skin, and turned back into the house to finish your work.

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You were so glad to have washed off the day, traipsing around, completely fresh and feeling renewed on the second floor of your new home as you listened to your favorite music, excited to curl up by the window with a good book.

You had just barely finished reading a couple chapters and decided to let in some of that amazing evening breeze as you lifted the window open. Along with the open air came voices from the direction of the backyard.

“And just exactly what the hell were you doing over there?”

“I told you twice already. No need to make a big deal out of it?”

“Why shouldn’t I make a big deal out of it. You don’t seem to care how I feel about you wandering around some other woman’s house.”

“‘Wandering around?’ Tch. I have no reason to lie to you. Have I ever?”

It was obviously not a good idea to eavesdrop, but you figured you should know what was going on with your new neighbors, right? You leaned in to peek out the window, at the very least, to be sure you were matching the voices with the individuals they belonged to.

Satoru stood on their patio with his hands stuffed in his pockets as the white haired woman went on, standing within a foot from him, yelling directly into his face.

“That’s bullshit.” she shook her head. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

“And what the hell does that mean? It’s not like you’re ever here anyway. Seems like your imagination is the only problem you’re having.”

She raises her hand and slaps him directly across the face.

You flinched, recoiling immediately back behind your window, your hand moving up to cover your mouth, unable to believe what you just saw. Nevertheless, your body moved slowly back into the window frame, really hoping to see this die down, or come to whatever resolution it would. And soon.

“Don’t play games with me Satoru. You’re always fucking somebody, why the hell wouldn’t it have been her?”

Satoru just stood there, clenching his jaw, his head turned the direction she slapped him.

She reached up, gripping his jaw, speaking through her teeth. “You do lie. You’re not fucking perfect.” She said as she let it go, pushing his face.

Satoru closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he turned his face up toward the sky, angling it just right, in the very direction of your window as you watched.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she murmured with a scowl, “Just because you’re supposed to be hot shit doesn’t give you the right to be a fucking cheater.”

You stepped back quickly from the window, your heart racing, triggered terribly by what was happening, hoping to God he didn’t see you. Your body was trembling. It made you visibly angry, and ... sad for him... for them.

It wasn’t exactly a positive interaction, and seeing people like that didn't bring you any form of pleasure. Though you did hope that Satoru, specifically, was okay.

“You were over there too fucking long.” She yelled, surely loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear her. “Did you at least get what you said you would?”

“It’s only one check. She’ll send the rest next week.”

“More bullshit. If you can’t keep your promises, I really don’t want shit to do with you.”

“I told you; more is coming. Fucking calm down”.

“Just give me the card, then.”

“I’m not giving you my card. How you run it up so fast is beyond me, but it’s unnecessary if you have cash. Just take that.”

“It better be here Satoru.”

It was hard to watch. He didn’t seem very defensive, so it was difficult to tell if anything she said outside of the ridiculous accusation that he’d had sex with you was valid, and since you didn’t know them, it’s not like you were aware of exactly why she was upset. Regardless, that behavior was unacceptable.

You leaned in to close the window quietly, yet still trying keep from being seen. It was hard to concentrate on your reading after witnessing something like that. They continued to argue for a while longer, so you decided to give up on it, turned up your music to drown out the voices and went ahead to sleep.

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You spent the next week or so, working on various projects and preparing for a meeting with a wholesale client that you’d been looking forward to working with for months. You woke up the following morning with a bit of a headache, not realizing how dehydrated and stressed you may have been considering how much you’d done, and how warm it suddenly felt in your house.

You doused your insides by chugging nearly two full bottles of water, threw on your favorite kimono top over your tank and shorts, and headed to the front to check your mail.

Of course, there was a wad piled up on your doorstep. You grabbed the stack which was bundled together with a rubber band, pulling it off as you begin sorting through the jumbled mess. As you peered past the high bushes that lined the boundary of your yards, Satoru emerges from the front door of his home, closing it behind him.

Your homes were quite closely set … but not as close as brownstones or San Francisco rows. You had a considerable amount of space in your front yard for gardening, some pretty bushes lining your boundary, and a quaint iron fence that kept wandering pups from invading. But from this distance, you could see and hear him clearly enough. His keys jingled loosely in his hand as he saunters toward his driveway, apparently on the phone.

“So, what time do you plan to get back here?” There was a long pause as he listened, stuffing his keys in his pocket, followed by an exaggerated sigh … “you mean like last time? … You promised this wouldn’t happen again.” He kept his voice quite low, though visibly upset. “I understand you’re tired, but I’m tired too.”

You sort through the mail in your hands, pretending not to notice him, yet you see him from the corner of your eye as he ends the call. He turns toward you headed your direction.

“Fine. Okay. Bye” … “Good morning.” he says cheerfully, waving at you as he wanders toward your fence.

You reluctantly face him, allowing a small phony smile to spread across your face. “Good morning”. You wouldn’t call yourself “happy” to see him, seeing as how he’s quite literally more than occupied with a whole live–in girlfriend. With someone who looks like him, this kind of thing … these excessive “niceties” couldn’t possibly end well. You began to think he should stay as far away from you as possible.

He makes his way across the yard as you try keep your attention on your mail. That was a tall order, since he was business casual today in a white polo shirt, crisp as expected, Rolex on his wrist, in silver or... white gold? And his vintage shades. The sun caught in his shiny white strands, brightening them even more under its rays as if he were an authentic angel.

He really needs to stay away.

He was stunning, and the sight was blinding, yet severely irritating after what you saw. He seemed like an amazing person, but clearly there was so much more to him... to them. Well, obviously there would be... you’ve known him for no more than five minutes.

You shifted your gaze toward him as he moved within a foot from your bottom step, apparently wearing something close to Sycomore by Chanel, one of your favorite scents, but may have been a bespoke since it was a little sharper, nearly knocking you off your feet when your senses caught it.

He pressed his large hands in the front pockets of his khakis as he approached, peering up at you from behind his shades, an interesting perspective since he’s so impossibly tall.

“How’s your morning going?” he asked, his voice as smooth as his gait, unhurried and kind, yet maintained a nuanced undertone of arrogance that he managed to keep from being intimidating. And his smile was as intoxicating as his fragrance.

You took a deep inhale, finding it difficult to concentrate in his presence. “It’s um... it’s going well. Pretty relaxing so far.” you nodded.

“That’s good. I um... wanted to apologize for the other night. I’m not sure how much you heard of us, but … I’m hoping we didn’t disturb you.” he said, his tone as mild and genuine as they come.

“It was a little disturbing if I’m honest.” you replied, peeking up from your mail. “I just hope everything’s okay.”

“Yeah... everything’s fine.”

Your lips puckered just a touch. “Everything didn’t seem ’fine’.”

He shrugged, “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.” you replied, shuffling again.

He paused, nodding as he squinted behind his shades. “It’s complicated.” he said, his gaze stuck on you as you as you pretended to be interested in your mail.

“Isn’t it always?” Your eyes flicked up to meet his frames for a split second.

A small huff exited his nostrils as he grinned, and his chiseled arms crossed in front of his broad chest. “Stings but … somehow still refreshing.”

“What’s that?”

“Your candor.” He replied, his smirk fixed. “It’s nice to have that around here.”

You pressed your lips into a hard line. “I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just... how I feel. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Your mouth turned down in the corners as you shrugged a shoulder. “It just... made me feel bad for you.” you said, barely above a whisper.

He was a little surprised to hear that reply from you, especially considering how frank you’d been. “.... We don’t know each other.” His head cocked a little, as if trying to peek at your eyes from beneath the angle you held your head. He pressed his foot boyishly against the edge of the stair of your porch, feeling the strain against his shoe. “Why should you feel bad for someone you only just met?”

You huffed, “Why shouldn’t I? Is empathy a bad thing?” you met his hidden gaze hoping to make out his eyes again for a moment before returning to the pile of paper in your hands.

A faint blush crept across his pale cheeks as his gaze dropped back down toward his pristine Dior. “No, not at all.”

A silence fell between you amidst the rustling of the trees as his gaze migrated up to your exposed legs, the sun shining on your pretty brown complexion, reflecting its hues, emphasized from your body butter, as if there were tiny speckles of gold embedded beneath your skin.

He followed them up to your arms, now exposed from the elbow to your wrists, the same shimmery tint, which was covered when he’d seen you before. His gaze traveled up slowly, landing on a bit of cleavage, revealed from under your tank top, your skin perfectly smooth considering you created your very own skin care, obviously tailored to your needs.

His deep blues finally rested on the relaxed expression on your face, suddenly quite curious what else was going through that pretty head of yours; A head full of fluffy brown curls that were loose this time, brushing gently across your skin in each direction of the changing of the wind.

He decided that spending a little more time over here with you would be... nice. To say the least. “I uh... thought I’d ask if you still needed help with your painting.” he said, changing the subject.

A tiny smile tugged at your plump lips as you glanced his direction, just before pulling out a blue envelope from the stack as your brows furrowed upwards in the center. “You sure that’s something you can do?”

He shrugged, “That’s the kind of thing friendly neighbors often do, right?”

You snickered, “I suppose so.” you glance over again, doing a double take as you noticed him staring at something. “What?”

He nodded, “That envelope. It looks familiar.”

“You know it’s illegal to look through other people’s mail, right?”

“You gonna call the authorities?”

“I might. You seem a little out of control.”

“Tch, yeah. That’s me.”

You chuckled, “It’s an invitation from Mei. Some kind of social seminar event.”

“Think you’ll go?”

“Mei’s a good friend of mine so... If I can, I definitely will. I have a few events coming up myself, so I hope the timing doesn’t clash with any of them. Lots of merchandise to make.” you sighed.

“So ... it’d be better to get the painting done sooner rather than later, right?”

“Yup. I’ve called some painters. They’ll be by to work on it with me tomorrow.”

“You should save your money. I can do it.”

You frowned, “You?” All kinds of questions popped into your head about his experience with manual labor, or … lack thereof. “You can paint? Like... professionally?”

He scoffed, “You think I’m some lazy rich kid who’s never actually worked before?”

Your eyes scanned his silhouette under a hiked brow, “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

“I’ll have you know, my parents were adamant that I learn to manage more than just money. I’m a pretty handy guy to have around.”

Your gaze shrank into a squint as your lips scrunched into one corner. “Okay...” you looked him over again. “On one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“You accept the product you ordered from me for free.”

He held out his large hand for you to shake again. “You’ve got a deal, neighbor.” ’

You held out your hand, finding yourself excited to touch him … as bad as that seemed in your head. His hand was softer than expected, yet his grip was still strong and felt nice.

How lucky that girl must be. You thought to yourself as he shook your hand for longer than necessary, sliding his fingers across your palm as you let go, sending tiny tinges of electricity up your arm. You cleared your throat, inwardly pulling yourself together, then flashing him another smile.

“And uhm... One more thing Mr. Gojo... I’d like to ask that you take this job seriously. I have a vision in mind, and I need it to meet my expectations?”

“Okay.” he replied. “No worries. I’ve got it.”

“And … you’re sure coming here won’t cause any problems? I really don’t want to get into the middle of anything.“” ’ you shook your head. “It’s not worth you getti–”

“How does six pm tomorrow sound?”

“Sounds perfect. But...”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

You gave him one of those looks. That I-sincerely-hope-you-know-what-you’re-doing look. “Okay. Thank you.” you nodded. Accepting that he was a big boy and could handle his own problems.

“My pleasure”. He said with a hint of a bow, looking up at you with a smirk, still hiding those ocean eyes behind their vintage frames as he slid his foot off the porch stair, turning to leave your yard. He walked to the edge, snapping your gate shut, holding up a finger, “... Nice Kimono.” he called back to you without looking.

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You’d worked through the night and all day the next, whipping together more product, soaps, candles, butters, bath bombs, and a few body creams, using distilled water and some of your favorite oils to match the brand-new soap you’d created. Your house was full and fragrant with various blending lingering aromas.

You set the creams on the counter to air out until the heat escaped, allowing any condensation to evaporate before capping them to sell.

It was nearly six pm, so you wondered if your friendly neighbor still planned to make it. The doorbell rang at six on the nose, and you were far happier to see him than you thought you’d be. Maybe that was okay, but … maybe it wasn’t.

“Hey there.” He stood before you in a stark white V-neck tee and lightly ripped jeans, still managing to look like a billion bucks.

Your heart fluttered at his direct and very piercing gaze, this time devoid of glasses. And at that, you wanted to reach inside your chest, pull it out, and wash it clean to sate the uneasiness it accompanied.

You took a deep breath, “Hey.” you said, forcing a smile behind your blush. “Thanks for coming.” You averted your gaze to the floor again, stepping aside to let him in.

Satoru’s lids lowered over his eyes a touch as he noticed your tendency to become flustered the second your eyes met. Somehow, he was thrilled, and that worried him, regardless of how much fun it was. “Sorry I’m late.”

“But you’re not late.” you said behind a frown.

He shrugged, “You know what they say; ‘early is on time, on time is late’,” he sauntered in, turning on his heel as he hinged toward you with a hike in one eyebrow “and ‘late is unacceptable’.”

You snapped the door shut behind him. “I do know that...” eyebrows jumping once as you spoke. “... all too well. I guess I’m often ’on time late’ then.”

He scrunched his lips together, “Tsk tsk tsk … then you must need more help than you let on.”

“You’re probably right...” you admitted. “Though I don’t like to burden others with my responsibilities.”

Satoru scanned the room, noting how much work you had done, and how much you still needed to do, and for some reason felt determined to be the person to it for you. “It’s not a burden at all for me. Just say the word, and I’ll help however I can.” he said, holding a box of miscellaneous tools by the handle in one hand and a pole sander in the other.

“Thanks...” you started, looking down and around, again, observing his things, simultaneously doing your best to not make eye contact.

You decided his gaze was simply too much for you, making you feel some kind of way... the kind of way that made you feel … guilty. He was a delight. And the support he offered only made him even better, making you feel better, which made it worse.

“So um … I’ve prepped the area pretty well so far, I think.” you said, pointing out what you’d finished, wondering if he went out of his way to get the items he brought. “Did you buy things for this? Some of the stuff in there looks new.”

“Well, most of it, including the sander is mine, but yes, some of the other things I did pick up on the way home from work. Why?” He hinged over, setting the toolbox on the floor.

“You didn’t need to buy anything. You offered to help as a favor. I didn’t intend to have you spend your money.”

“It’s no biggie. It didn’t cost too much. I planned to bring some of my supplies from home, but they were a little worn out, so I bought more instead.” He rummaged through them. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take it all back home with me.” He stood, pulling gloves from the box, his eyes locked on yours as he towered at least a full foot over you. “It’s just... Whatever I do, I like to be thorough.”

You took a deep breath, hiking a brow, reminding yourself to keep calm and focus on your task. “Okay. So then... um...” you began as you turned to look around at the walls.

Satoru’s gaze followed you across the room observing how terribly adorable you were in your little tee shirt, denim overalls and converse. And your hair tied up again in that curly ponytail was just too cute. He was obviously used to girls finding him attractive, even being giddy around him, but though you were affected, your disposition was different. And he couldn’t remember the last time he had the opportunity to be this intimately close to such a beautiful black woman. It was exciting.

Everything about you was a change of pace, especially after working long hours with his stuffy clients and colleagues, talking about money all day. And unfortunately, even at home, where his girlfriend rarely stayed anymore, someone like you brought a brightness to his life where so much had gone dim. The only problem with that was, if he wasn’t careful, he’d get quite carried away. And likely take you with him.

It was also proving difficult to focus around you, but the way you made him feel, your honesty, sincerity, your compassion, your drive, he hadn’t been around someone like that in so long … not since … well, it was probably good not to think too much about that now.

“... so if you wouldn’t mind just starting on the sanding for me, that would be great.”

That was all he’d caught of everything you’d just said. He nodded, “My pleasure.”

You hand him a pair of goggles, and he gets to work, reaching areas of the wall that you’d likely have to ascend and descend your ladder dozens of times to reach alone.

As he worked, you sat on a small stool, drill mixing and blending some paints, creating custom colors you visualized for a faux stone finish, bringing the feel of a city loft, and a sense of some familiarity to your large new space.

Satoru worked diligently with very little instruction as you created various shades and hues, your eyes wandering to his corner to see how it came along, considerably impressed. He’d smoothed over many of the rough areas you’d worked on to the point you couldn’t see a single bump or blemish. It was nice to know he wasn’t just a pretty face, not that he had to know how to do any of this.

As your eyes followed each wave of the sander, they trailed along his large hands down his beautifully muscular arms, only to notice the way his body moved under his perfectly fitted tee. His clothes were hardly too small but fit him as though they were tailored with the exact amount of room for his chest and back, curving around them over his muscles as they flexed underneath.

His jeans fit like a glove, with a slight sag that caused them to slip just below his v-line, his smooth, porcelain skin, barely displaying the faintest lines from his veins at his abdomen as he raised his arm.

You swallowed thickly at the vision, your bottom lip disappearing behind your teeth as he reached heights on the wall that you could never, hoping to God that one day the man you choose would have a fraction of what you saw in him.

“Looks like that part’s taken care of.” he turns to you with a proud grin. “See, aren’t you just ecstatic that I’m here?”

You averted your gaze immediately as he turned toward you, hoping you weren’t caught ogling him. You cleared your throat, “Yea... it uh... definitely takes a load off, Mr. Gojo.” You said as you got up from your seat, preparing to take a break.

But he did catch you, turning his face away as he pretended not to notice, his grin melting into a thoughtful smile at the confirmation that at the very least, you’re definitely attracted to him. Of course, he knew nothing could come of it. Regardless of how often he waited for his woman to show up at home most evenings, and not only that, but also blush when she sees him the way you do.

She used to. Boy, did she used to. Unfortunately, despite his undeniable beauty, it’s been a while since Satoru felt the touch of a woman. And it damn sure wasn’t because he didn’t want to. Of course he did. But he prided himself on his own honor, his family honor, and his reputation, which was attached to both his career and his relationship.

He winced as he climbed down from the ladder, which he’d used maybe thrice, and finished priming the entire wall. “Oof... only the elders in my family are called Mr.” he mutters jokingly. “Please, call me Satoru.” he said, walking toward you as he pushed his goggles up on top of his head and his white strands back along with them, that tiny gesture managing to make him even cuter. “Or ... just ‘Gojo’... if you prefer formalities.”

You hesitated, wondering if it was appropriate, being on a first-name basis with someone else’s man. It certainly didn’t feel like it was. But you also knew nothing would transpire between the two of you so, “Yeah... okay...” you nodded as you twirled a paintbrush in your hand, reluctantly looking up at him directly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips under his hooded gaze as he seemed to anticipate you saying his name officially. “S-Satoru.” you said, the word softly slipping past your lips.

His eyes softened, “Atta girl.” he practically whispered as he grinned, clearly enjoying this little bit of fun he was having with you. “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

You huffed, snickering under your breath at his playfulness. “I suppose not.” you answered, “I just prefer not to overstep any boundaries if I can help it.”

The corners of his lips curled down as he nodded, “That’s understandable.”

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You decided it was time to take that break since itd had been a good hour and a half at least. “Would you like something to drink while you’re working for me?” You asked, turning toward the kitchen.

“Do you have any coffee?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning back his direction. “Coffee?”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t like coffee.” he quipped.

“I love coffee... I just... wasn’t expecting you to ask for that. And I have no idea why.” you giggled.

He chuckled with you as he walked closer, the both of you migrating to the kitchen where he sat at your island. “Well, I’m just full of surprises, I guess. And, what’s wrong with a guy liking coffee?” He leaned into the counter, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I dunno...” A thoughtful look gracing your face. “I guess I was expecting you to ask for a … beer, or … water. ‘Coffee’ just threw me off a bit. Sorry.” You said, still giggling as you covered your mouth.

He couldn’t help but laugh with you, finding your giggle infectious, and your reaction endearing. He couldn’t resist teasing you more. “So now you’re expecting me to be some jock who only drinks alcohol?”

“Oh god, no.” you said, rolling your eyes and smiling even brighter. I’ll get you some coffee right away Mr. Go – I mean … Satoru.”

He propped his elbow up on the counter, pressing his fist into his cheek as he observed you with intrigue. “Having a hard time getting away from it, it seems. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable coming up with a nice nickname for me.” he said, enjoying the banter.

“Hmm... yeah, no, that might be a little...”

“A little what?” He asked, hiking up an eyebrow.

“Intimate.”

He squinted. “You think?”

“I do.”

“Well, we are becoming friends, right? Getting to know each other, hanging out. Feels pretty innocent to me.”

You turned toward your cabinet to grab the sugar, and the cream from the fridge as his eyes trailed over your figure before returning to your face.

“I take sugar in my coffee.” you said as you looked down at your cup, adding a couple tablespoons. And... definitely some cream.” You stirred as you poured. “How do you take yours?”

“Black.” he uttered. “And sweet.”

You huffed. “You’re taken, Satoru.” You replied. Pushing the sugar toward him.

“Am I?” he muttered, watching pink flood your pretty cheeks, and feeling a warm sensation fill his chest.

At that, you immediately stopped stirring your coffee, complete silence overtaking you both as you murmured slowly, “Satoru... I hate to sound … blunt … and frankly nosey, but …”

“But, you’re gonna ask anyway.” he replied behind a smirk and his fixed gaze, adding a couple teaspoons of sugar to his coffee.

You took a deep breath, “I guess I just wanna understand. Why do you deal with that?” Your brows threading together in the center as you asked, still looking down at your mug, then flicking your gaze back to him. “I just... I realize it’s not exactly my business what’s going on internally between you, but... that looked pretty bad from the outside. Bad enough to eventually get even worse.” You said you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries but...

His smile faded a bit as he looked down at his cup, his hands moving to curl around its warmth. “We grew up together.” He started as he nodded slowly. “Our families have known each other since we were children... But it’s been like this for a while. Me and her.”

Childhood friends. Right. But... The hitting? In all seriousness, if she were on the other side of it, you’d be having this conversation with her instead no doubt.

“We’ve been best friends since the sandbox.” He smirked behind a quick exhale. “She wasn’t like this before. Well, she’s always been … feisty …” His blue eyes met yours, brows furrowing, but you refused to look away this time. “I’m sure she has her reasons, but... I’m hoping things get better.”

Your lips parted slightly as you inhaled. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sor–”

“It’s fine.” He shook his head, his finger tracing the lip of his cup... “I’ve gotta admit though... I’m kinda bracing myself for the day she decides to no longer come home.” He continued, “To be honest, I’m not even sure how I’d feel about it.”

You looked down at your hands, suddenly wishing you knew how to mind your own damn business.

“This coffee is perfect.” He took another sip, sitting the mug carefully back down on the counter. “Sweet and strong... but a bit sharp.”

Ouch. You chewed the inside of your lip as you reluctantly met his piercing gaze.

“We should probably get a move on before it gets too late, yea? Or... would you rather me come back later?” He suggested, moving to get up from the bar.

“I’d like to finish the first coat on all the walls at least... if you don’t mind, the primer should be dry... I have a busy schedule coming up... A couple trade shows and a meeting with a boutique. It may be a week or so before I manage to get back to it.”

“Okay.” he answered. “I’ll be more than happy to come back and help you finish up if you just give me a yell.”

You wondered if that was a good idea after prying so relentlessly. “Do I have to yell?” you asked, squinting one eye.

He huffed “No, you don’t, but … if it’s okay with you we can exchange numbers.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’d hate to cause trouble for you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

You hid your lips behind your teeth as you looked around to find your phone. You handed it over to him unlocked so he could add your number. He added it, then took a picture of himself, adding that, too.

“The picture may not have been necessary.” You said, snickering as you shook your head. “I doubt I’d forget a name like Satoru.”

“Maybe, but then your contact list wouldn’t have been graced with my beautiful face.” he grinned haughtily. “Besides, you’re giving me a nickname remember?”

“Hmm...” you scrunched your lips together. “Did I agree to that?”

“Not quite, but you should. And when you do, I expect a good one. I’m a man of high standards after all.”

“Of course you are. And slick too, apparently.” you said, flashing him a phony smile as your eyes fluttered. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He chuckled as he propped his large body up with his hand on the counter, watching you clean up the coffee supplies. “You’re cheeky. I like that. It’s refreshing to meet people who can keep up with my wit.”

“Well, I have my off days for sure.”

“Mmm... Do you mind if I take my coffee in the other room?”

“I don’t mind at all. Just try not to drink any paint by mistake”

“Tch... yeah, I think I can manage that much.”

You turned, grinning his direction as you led him back to the front room. You could call his presence refreshing as well, as you were usually so busy with work that you’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone around frequently to talk to. In the time you’d gotten to know him, he seemed warm. Calm. Inviting. A pleasure.

It didn't make sense to you how he could be in the middle of a situation as seemingly toxic as the one you’ve witnessed. But again, that’s his business. And really, you figured, you’re an outsider. Looking in on their relationship. Maybe that was the problem. And why it seemed to matter to you was the real question.

You turned on some music to lighten the mood as you both went back to painting, finishing the first paint coat layer by nine thirty.

Satoru gathered all of his gear, “Give me a ring when you’re ready for me.”

You nodded, “I will. Thank you, Satoru. I appreciate all the help.”

“Anytime.” he muttered, waltzing slowly out the front door, and a step down on the front porch, turning to have a good long look at you before he left for the night. “We’re neighbors after all. And you’re a young woman living here alone. It’s good to have a man around to help out you think?”

“Yes. Yes it is. It is. And I will.” You allowed your gaze to settle on his once more in an attempt to lock the look in his eyes into your memory for safekeeping.

“Goodnight.” He said, his smooth voice left ringing in your ears before heading down your walkway, closing the gate behind him. It was hard. Hard to see him walk away from your home, to his own, where a woman, one who loved him would be expecting him. You snapped the door shut behind you, almost sulking in the quiet. You told yourself to stop caring. He’s just a man. A kind, sincere, beautiful man.

And he’s taken.

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

The meeting with the boutique owner was exciting, and a complete success. They were one of the best in the city, and when they approached you to collaborate, you were more than just a little ecstatic about it. It ended in a consignment agreement that included three stores. A huge sell and an immense amount of exposure for your business.

You’d also managed to complete two of your trade show events, making far more profit than expected, but also depleting you of so much merchandise it was time to do some restocking. Which meant a lot of work from home, making even more product.

All that work you’d just done, packing everything, loading your truck, hauling it all there, unpacking it at the site, setting up your displays, performing most all sales alone, breaking the entire display down, packing up the truck again just to haul it all back, and unload it into the house. It was a shit ton of work.

It had been over two weeks since you’d seen Satoru, and you’d heard nothing from their home. You wondered if it was because of what you said, and he was simply hiding the chaos on the inside. But as you arrived at your home after the end of your event to unload your rental, Satoru pulled up behind your car in his Rover.

He hopped out of the cab, all smiles. “Hey there.”

You smiled brightly ready to say hello, just as your eyes met his girlfriend’s, hers, cutting sharply toward you as he walked around to open her door. Your smile faded a bit as you noticed her sneer. And you wondered if Satoru was open with her about how he’d been to your place helping you. If he had been, you weren’t sure you could blame her. She exited the car, her gaze raking over you roughly over puckered lips.

“H-Hello.” you said nervously, letting go of your heavy box of candles, walking toward her as you wiped your hands on the back of your jeans and leaned in to shake her hand, introducing yourself. “... I just moved in next door. It’s nice to meet you.”

She held out her hand behind the half-smile she offered, not a single word leaving her lips as Satoru grabbed their things from the SUV.

“I think that’s everything.” he said as he approached her from behind, his hands full of shopping bags, facing you and your uneasy smile as you waited anxiously for the chance to get back into your house. “Looks like you might need some help with all that, too.” he nods toward the stacks of boxes and equipment in your ride.

“Uh... thanks but that won’t be necessary.” you answered, your eyes flicking between her icy glare and his friendly blues, “I have a cart in the car, I can just –”

“No way, that stuff looks heavy, and I’m sure you’ve been lugging it around all day, right?” He frowned, his sights grazing over the load that would likely take you at least a half hour to manage. “I’ll be back to help you take it inside.”

You took a deep breath as he finished his offer, his girlfriend never taking her eyes off of your face. “I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

“It’s really okay. I can do it.”

“I insist. I won’t allow you to do all that alone. There’s no point when I’m right here.”

“Satoru, she said she can take care of it.” The woman sneered, looking through narrowed eyes at you, “I’m sure she’s used to manual labor. You don't have to help her with everything, do you?”

“Uraume.“ Satoru cut his eyes toward her. “It’ll take all of ten minutes.”

“She’s right. I’m used to –”

“I’m ignoring you, and I’ll be back.” Satoru rested his large hand on the small of Uraume’s back as they both turned toward their home, taking their belongings inside.

“Nice meeting you.” you called out toward his girlfriend as you grimaced, your eyes widening as you turned back toward the car, sliding out your collapsed cart. You pulled it out, popping it open on the street behind the car, and lifting it over the curb onto the sidewalk. You’d gotten one large box in the cart when you see Satoru power walking toward you. Your eyes flicked up toward him as you pressed your lips together.

“Wow... this bin is as heavy as it looks.”

“Yeah... those candles weigh about a pound each, twelve in each box, six boxes per bin.” you nodded, “but you seriously don’t have to do this.”

“I do. And I will.” He frowned, “you do this alone every time you have an event?”

“Yeah. I mean... I can't wait around for someone else to help me with everything. I have to take care of it myself if I wanna get it done.”

“True, but … you ever think of hiring some help?”

“I have, but that would require the person to make a commitment.” you placed the last box on top of your stack inside the cart. “Depending on others can leave you with a bunch of incomplete work, and my events aren’t exactly scheduled consistently at the same time each week.”

Gojo scrunched his lips into the corner of his mouth as his lids lowered over his eyes into a squint. “Well, you have someone to help you now. Please call me and don’t do this by yourself.”

“Satoru, I’ve been taking care of this alone for years.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” he grabbed the handle of the cart, pulling it toward your driveway and up to the garage. “It’s not necessary if you have assistance.”

“It doesn’t seem like your girlfriend is going to be okay with this. I’d rather not cross her if I can help it. it’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair for me to carry your boxes?”

You took a deep breath, “It’s not fair for me to impose on another woman’s relationship. If she’s not comfortable with it, I shouldn’t do it.”

He leaned in grabbing one of the heavy boxes out of the cart with the greatest of ease. “I can make my own decisions.”

You rolled your eyes as you opened the garage door. “I’m sure you can but – can you just put it on that shelf?” You pointed to an area it would fit. “– she didn’t look happy with it.”

He placed the box on the designated area, turning to look at you as you pouted, looking genuinely concerned with causing him, or his girlfriend any trouble. You had a few empty bins you had to bring into the kitchen that would be refilled after all the other items occupied their homes in the garage. He brought those to your space in the kitchen as you huffed, nearly completely out of breath.

“Haaaah … I think that’s all for now … ha~ah … Thank you.” you said, wiping your brow with the back of your forearm.

“You look exhausted.”

You huffed, “Thanks.” you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Don’t you have brothers? Family to come help?”

You finished guzzling your water, pulling the bottle down from your face. “I just moved away from them. Besides, they have jobs, too.”

He nodded. “Right.” he said, looking around at your bins, all the stuff in the garage, the unfinished walls, peering over at you in your spent state as he leaned on your counter, propped up by his elbows. “And what is this about imposing on another woman’s relationship?”

You finished your second swig of water, finishing the bottle. “What?”

He stood up straight, stepping toward you slowly. “You said … you’re ‘imposing’ on her relationship.” he stopped within a foot of you, crossing his arms in front of him, towering as his lids rested over his gaze. “How so?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, she didn’t look like she was okay with it.”

“And what do you care if she’s okay with it?”

“Satoru....” you shifted your weight, your hands moving to your hips, avoiding that insane gaze that you haven’t seen in weeks.

“Do you think that you’re a threat?”

You had no idea how to answer that, your brows furrowing in the center. “Tch... What kind of a question is that?”

“An easy one.” he tilted his head from one side to the other, his gaze locked on your flustered, pink-cheeked face.

“What imposition … on MY relationship … could possibly occur from me carrying a couple of boxes?” he continued, uncrossing his arms from in front of him, re-crossing them behind his back. “or … painting a wall?” he stepped even closer. “What’s going on here, between you and me, that you feel will cause my relationship to crumble?”

You shook your head, your gaze traveling up his torso, to his face, the center of your body squeezing itself together as your eyes finally met his.

He huffed, “You’re cute when you pout, you know that?”

“You can't say that stuff to me, Gojo”. you whispered, as goosebumps tingled all over your skin.

“You’re cute when you blush, too.” he grinned. “And I told you... I need you...

to call me ‘Satoru’.”

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘

M. List | Ch.02 (Coming Soon)

Thanks for reading! 💎🤍💎🥰

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖

©cocomanga 2025 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Borders by @cocomanga & @saradika-graphics Animated Border Lines by @cafekitsune Stunning Fanart Art by Yoon, @dmsco1803

Taglist: (if you dont want to be tagged, please lmk!!🤍)

@lavender-hvze @another365 @vantadaes @chosolover @242422rc @kashiiwi @mintiroo @melaniemartinezloverr @sakura-blxssxm @neurydyta @distractionforyourthoughts @strangegirl7892:) @jasmionerose @bfejp @chosolovers @asramin @destinyfleur @louanneeeeeeee @randomly12aqua @watermelon-19 @sketchy-business @spidergirlnr1 @sillyoverload @flwrbbyx @firebonbon @slutkoo @doomsday08 @scrumptiouscarrotcake @jayeke @minjizziee @stressedand-obsessed @imtheprintt @menwhere

@strvqtt @rowwyboi @i-think-i-have-a-fever @itsswageyamatobiyolo @ms-shoja @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @milleriverr @everythingfits-here @ph4n-7om @chaxtic-euphxria @mafertl @fatiguedcow @vxnus101 @honey69b @wisteriaav @lystee @hazeyeyes @iyyshlymg @shelov3sstars @sollasollaahh @animewhur @ghostnotlovergirl @lulubluu @sacredyoongi @sleeplrd @alter-bananant @yuhhh7899 @riverrrrrrrx @luckyperfectionsandwich @insecuregirlblog @npx2 @shyplaidalmondfriend @kill-shoot @milkyyboyy @choupijk @s0ulz4-20 @xiscaprinz @doomalot @alonahh @adastinks @mjmjmhmhmh @otakuzdreamland

#Satoru #Gojo #Satoru Gojo Smut #Satoru Gojo X Reader #Satoru Gojo x You #JJK AU #JJK Smut #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen satoru #CocoManga #Line of Sight

23 notes · View notes

izxz-is-deranged · 2 months ago

Text

Baptism by Fire | Matt Murdock x BAU!Reader

Summary: You love your position at the BAU, but your life is uprooted when Hotch sends you on a temporary assignment to the FBI field office in New York. Apparently, someone had the bright idea to make a deal with a crime boss named Wilson Fisk, and now it's your job to build a profile to determine if the information he gives can be trusted. As you realize quickly things aren't as they seem, you must find a way to protect yourself- If protecting yourself has something to do with a masked vigilante... That's no fault of yours.

multiple crossovers | slow burn

A/N: Starts about ep3 of S3 of Daredevil! Reader uses a fake name, and can be seen as an original character if desired. Future storylines may involve Reader's past coming back to haunt her (Supernatural) and the trials and tribulations of her day job (Criminal Minds)

< ao3 link > <Masterlist>

4: Vigilantism Makes the World Go Round

It takes another 2 hours of talking with Karen, 3 calls to Garcia, and one bitter office coffee to get everything figured out. Once she posed her initial theory about the previous owners, the Kazemis, you sat with her to help investigate. It was refreshing to dig with someone new, especially someone as quick as Karen. You had traced empty shell companies and offshore accounts around in circles, but it all lead back too two things- Red Lion Bank and Donvan and Partners…

Fisk lawyers.

As much as you wanted this to prove something, it was still speculative, but as you were leaving, you assured you’d bring it up with the other Agents. If there was even a chance Fisk was working the system, they needed to know. Karen promised to call if she found anything else, but couldn’t promise she’d keep it out of the papers. It was getting darker by this point, but all you could think about was getting across town to deliver your profile to Nadeem.

You rode in the back of the taxi cab and let your thoughts wander. Was it some sort of cosmic coincidence Fisk killed his father when he was a boy, just like Bobby had? You found yourself comparing the crimes, and the men they produced. How does one become the kingpin of a criminal empire and the other save people’s lives on the regular?

It got to be in the Mothers.

Bobby had gotten drunk one day, very soon after your Mom died, somewhere in your early teens, and spilled everything to you. The effect of the bottle made the confessions come hard and fast. He didn’t know how to be a parent, was scared to death of having kids. That he was afraid he’d turn out just like his father: Mean and drunk. When he told you about that night, with the spilled milk and the gun and his 10 year old finger wrapped around the trigger, he said his mom told him that God would punish him.

And looking over at Fisk, a man who took a more hands on approach. A physical attack with a hammer. Close up. Personal. Angry. A man that learned his rage from his father, but was then affirmed by his mom. She told him he did the right thing, helped him cover it up, and the trauma that would’ve left on a child… Piece by piece you dispose of your father into the river, and when you walk in the door after it’s over, your mother smiles and praises you for a job well done.

A shiver runs up your spine. No wonder Fisk was the way he was.

There was more traffic than you bargained for, and you got out about 2 blocks from the hotel. Almost as soon as you step out onto the night streets, a call comes through your phone. Nadeem. You answer. His voice is quick and out of breath.

“We have a situation. A man just attacked Fisk’s lawyer in the parking garage. We have agents on the way down, but you’re the only one on the outside- How close are you?”

Shit. This was the last thing you expected.

You quickly give an answer, and break off into a sprint, thanking some unseen force you wore boots instead of heels. The parking garage fed out onto the street, but you assumed the attacker would duck into the alley if he tried to escape. You unholster your firearm, leveling it in front of you as you reach the dim opening, sterile luminescence from the garage not quite reaching far enough.

Striding through the center, calm and collected, was a figure clad in black.

“FBI! Don’t move!” You yell, subtly catching your breath as the figure stops. You readjust your grip on the gun, heart kicking up. “Hands where I can see them. Step into the light.”

Surprisingly, he listens.

The man that steps backwards to you was dressed head to toe in tight black athletic gear, fingerless black gloves and combat boots. Even in the low light you noted the toned muscle barely cloaked by the fabric. His hands raise above his head, with his back turned to you. The most notable thing about him however isn’t the slow, calculated movements as he turns his head towards you, or even the blood glistening on his knuckles, no… it was the wrapped, black mask covering the upper half of his face.

You let out a shaky breath, muttering under your breath, “Shit, it’s you.”

You swear you see his lips twitch upwards.

Digging into Fisk’s history, it was impossible to avoid the tales of “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” aka… “Daredevil”. You’d seen photo after photo (Mostly blurry surveillance screencaps, like he was some sort of cryptid) of a man either dressed in all black with a mask, or a deep red devil suit. If you hadn’t been so one track minded with Fisk, profiling him would be a field day. Who goes out and intentionally dressed like the Devil to beat up criminals? Somebody with issues.

He stands still, expectantly, almost like he can hear your thoughts.

“You gonna arrest me or what?”

You can’t help the way your eyes widen at his voice, deep and a little rough. It suited him, and it stirs something within you, deep inside.

“Actually, I’m gonna hold you here until my backup arrives,” You lie through your teeth, though you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s cause you learned all about his help in arresting Fisk, and people he’d saved… You didn’t really want to be the dick who arrests a hero.

He tilts his head. “You haven’t called for backup. You don’t have a radio.”

How the hell does he know that?

“Are you trying to convince me to arrest you on my own?”

“No. I’m stalling.”

The man moves quicker than you’ve ever seen, and your heart freezes. He goes for your gun, spinning round to grab it. You brace yourself for the shot, stumbling backwards, but he just disarms it, and tosses the useless hunk of metal off to the side.

You both stand quietly.

“...Well, I wasn’t going to shoot you anyways,” You snark, lightly rubbing the wrist he twisted.

“Can’t be too careful. Have a good night, Agent,” He says, casually before turning and walking down the alley.

Your face contorts in confusion. The audacity of this guy. “Hey!”

You spring forward to catch him, but as soon as your hand lands on his shoulder, he pushes you off, arm swinging wide. You hurriedly take the opportunity to jam an elbow into his shoulder, and land a hit directly onto his chest, giving him his own turn to stumble backwards. He groans.

A surprised but tired laugh escapes him. “You don’t want to do this,” He grumbles, straightening.

“Well, I can’t let you walk.” You take your defensive stance. Look, you took your basic self defense classes at the FBI, but those had nothing on the ‘fight for your life’ sparring matches Dean would make you do. You could take him. “I’ve got a job to do.”

His mouth quirks, like he’s smirking. It burns a hole inside of you. You needed to get inside his head.

“I’m not gonna punch you,” he breathes out.

“Bullshit! Why? ‘Cause I’m a woman?”

“No-”

He drops down, a rotating kick sweeping you off your feet and knocking you on your back. You gasp, all the air leaving your lungs.

“-It’s cause you’re expecting it.”

Fuck. Ow.

You see him stand over your for a moment, while you find your breath. For being a strange man who just kicked your ass in the middle of the night, something inside you didn’t find him scary. With all your work with serial killers, this fight could’ve been much worse. The fact he hadn’t used your gun against you told you he didn’t want to kill you, and jesus, to be dark, he had every opportunity to do something worse while you were laying flat on the dirty concrete of the alley. Your brain ticks a mile a minute, trying to understand the vigilante as he begins to walk away.

“T-Typical vigilante profile states that they or someone close to them, a friend or family member, were a victim of a violent crime where…” You croak out, sitting up slowly with just enough time to see him about to scale a fire escape. “Justice wasn’t served.”

He stops, cocking his head to the side.

“Mostly, they work in the justice system. Cogs in the machine, trying to do good… Cops, judges, Lawyers,” You continue, rolling onto your knees almost in a prayer position.

“What are you doing?” He demands, a gritty urgency lacing his voice.

“But it’s not enough. It doesn’t help. Their sense of justice is too heightened, and the system fails, time and time again-”

“Stop it.” His feet are back in the alley, all focus locked on you.

“So they have to take matters into their own hands. They alone can deliver the evil. They alone dole out punishment. They believe it’s their God given duty to-”

Without warning, his hands are on you, gripping your jacket lapels to pull you forward to him. His knuckles are white under the drying layer of blood. Kneeling on one knee in front of you, his breathing deep and ragged. You’re close to his face now, and can trail your eyes across his stubble encrusted jaw as his breath caresses your own.

“Don’t,” He starts, tone low and a dangerous, “Don’t pretend you know me.”

You eyes flick across his face, trying to map where his eyes would be under the mask. “My mistake,” you half-whisper, “I was just wondering why God cursed the Devil with the burden of vigilantism.”

It was quick, a blink and you’ll miss it tightening of his jaw. Profiling on the fly wasn’t hard, it doesn’t take a professional to assume this man had a complicated relationship with religion. You think he’s about to respond, until his head perks up, attuning into something behind you, a few seconds before you hear the shouting of other agents.

“I got eyes on her! She’s in the alley!”

Like lightning, the Devil sprints from you, dropping you without thought and scales the fire escapes of the alley to reach the rooftop. All you can do is blink in awe.

The next hour is a blur. You weren’t significantly hurt, but the agents that went toe to toe in the garage looked like they went through a trash compactor. He had the capability of doing that to you, especially after you provoked him, so why didn’t he? After a long, drawn out report, Nadeem tells you to call it a night. The Fisk profile can be delivered in the morning.

You agree.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. You lay awake in the unfamiliar bed of the hotel. Your life wasn’t exactly normal, so why the hell did today feel so surreal? Perhaps it was the stakes of this job. Typically you shared the weight of it with your team. It’d only been a day away from them. It boggled your mind that this time last night, you’d been given the assignment from Hotch. God. Maybe the days coming would be calmer…

You had a feeling they wouldn’t.

Whenever you closed your eyes, the inky black of the back of your eyelids morphed into the black mask of the Devil. You’ve never encountered a vigilante before, at least, one that wasn’t a serial killer. Hell, he could be, but god, he had every chance to land a killing blow or steal a gun in the garage. Even with you, he could’ve killed you the second he disarmed you. You wonder what information he’d wanted out of Fisk’s lawyers, but it wasn’t surprising he was interested in what was happening. Imagine you’re a hero, and your arch nemesis, the person you loathe more than anything in the world, went from a jail you threw them in to an Architectural Digests ad.

Still, the more you thought of him, the harder it was to pull your mind away. Before he’d been a foot note in the files, now, you can’t get the sound of his voice out of your head. Perhaps it was the mystery. You were a sucker, an investigator, hell it was your job to know. The scene replayed over and over, and you couldn’t help but wonder who was under the mask. Your profiling instincts said you hit home with just the basics earlier, especially with his reaction. You tap your fingers on the bedsheets.

Maybe a little research wouldn’t hurt- After all, you were sure this wasn’t the last time he’d make himself known.

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #criminal minds #matt murdock x bau!reader #matt murdock x you #izxz writes

19 notes · View notes

shaotie · 4 months ago

Text

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

sick + bored = mindless art, enjoy! 💚🐢

If you're interested, there's a poll at the bottom that might help me decide what fanfic to work at posting on ao3 next🙂 (ETA: I decided on Broken Bonds then Where You Belong)

This post contains **SPOILERS** for some of my rottmnt fanfics, including spoilers for future chapters of Seven Years that haven't been posted yet.

- masterpost for my rottmnt ao3 fanfics and art

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

Broken Bonds Leo (Onii) (just started writing, not posted online yet)

After the krang invasion when everyone is getting back on their feet, Leo is blamed for a portal accident that almost killed one of his brothers.

Leo refuses to accept blame for something he insists wasn't his fault, and Raph insists he's tearing the family apart with his lies and eventually kicks him out of their home, demanding he not return until he is willing to admit fault and apologizes for his error, thinking this is a quick and effective way to force Leo to stop the lies so their family can come back together again.

Leo ends up never reconciling with his family and six years later - after having suffered much over the years he was alone and losing his mystic powers - he is living outside a hidden yokai village in the mountains, where he befriended a wolf with which he shares a ninja mind meld connection, and named himself Onii (meaning 'alone' in the native yokai language).

One winter day he comes home to find the siblings who accused him of wrongdoing waiting for him inside his little cabin, bringing with them bad news, and a severe snowstorm that night results in the only way out being blocked by snow, so they are forced to try and get alone, even though his brothers still blame him for what happened and he still insists: "It WASN'T MY PORTAL!"

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

Seven Years Leo

Leo is rescued from the prison dimension where he spent seven grueling years - in a dimension where he doesn't age - being beaten by Krang Prime and unable to die, to discover the portal Mikey pulled him through was (unknown to everyone but him) a time portal and it was only two minutes for everyone else.

Leo insists he did the right thing to protect the earth and ends up turning to Draxum as the only person he can confide in because he can't open up to his family who are angry with him for jumping into a suicide mission without giving them a chance to discuss it as a family. Eventually he moves in with the goat alchemist to get away from the arguing. After seven years of suffering, all he wants now is peace and quiet.

While living with Draxum, Leo is diagnosed with a terminal illness from the effects of being in an alternate dimension not designed for life on this planet. Unfortunately when he eventually dies, he is horrified to discover Krang Prime did something to him so he can't join with his ancestors in the mystic realm.

Leo is left alone on earth, inaudible, intangible, and invisible to everyone, not knowing what to do or where to go from here, until something unexpected happens one year after his death that changes everything.

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

Where Loyalties Lie Leo (X, Experiment Alpha 002-2) (Foot mask)

Separated from his family as freshly mutated baby turtles, Leo is raised as Draxum's slave in the Hidden City, where slavery is legal and commonplace among the yokai. When he meets his brothers he wants to draw close to them, but Draxum wants them dead and slashes his face as punishment for disobeying the command to kill them.

Leo plans on escaping his servitude to live with his family but a series of unfortunate events forces him back with his cruel owner, who sends him out to work for the Foot Clan, helping them collect more pieces of the dark armor that infected his ninpo.

He feels that he's not someone worth saving, but he underestimates how strong the bonds of family can be, and his siblings stubbornly refuse to give up on him.

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

Life: The Ultimate Sacrifice Leo (masked and mystically cloaked 'Cerberus')

Trapped in the prison dimension where he can't permanently die, Leo is slowly driven insane from a combination of Krang Prime’s torturous attacks and the harsh conditions in that alternate dimension. Eventually he escapes to earth with much of his memory missing, still partly insane, and suffering hallucinations, only to discover he is infected with the krang parasite and mutates into a half krang beast.

He takes upon himself the responsibility of guarding the key to 'hell' (the prison dimension) for all time to protect the earth and the entire dimension from the krang threat, names himself 'Cerberus', and wears a disguise to conceal his identity from his family who he thinks are better off believing him dead, and who he regularly has interactions with - some in fun ways (for him) and others not so much.

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

Two Minutes . . . And Counting Leo

After receiving a gift from Donnie that shocks him for telling his jokes, Leo heads out on his own to clear his head, only to be followed and ambushed by the Foot Clan.

By the time he escapes, Leo is badly injured and in need of imminent medical attention, but he ends up collapsing outside the door to his sewer lair home, where he succumbs to his injuries and passes away.

In his mystical form, Leo doesn't understand why his brothers didn't come help him before it was too late, but when his Gram-Gram Hamato Atsuko comes for him, he discovers he can't pass on to the mystic realm because he has unfinished business on earth, and she opens a pathway that takes him to Donnie's lab.

At first Leo blames his brothers for his death, but once he comes to find it was all one big accident, he forgives them and must find ways to reach out to them and lead each of them to forgiving themselves before he can pass on to the mystic realm.

Unfortunately, some turtles are easier to convince than others.

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

A Ninja's Greatest Weapon Leo (mind-controlled Alligator)(not posted online yet)

an alligator yokai villain named Kaiman who previously had a runin with the turtles seeks revenge, injects Leo with a mind control mutagen, and orders him to kill Donatello.

After having 'fun' with his brother and stabbing him in the back, thinking the job is 'as good as done' Leo portals to Kaiman and serves him diligently as his ninja assassin, is given a new mask to wear with protective eye covers, and names himself 'Alligator' after the yokai he admires and looks up to.

But there is a flaw to the mind control mutagen and every morning at 5:00 am Leo wakes up as himself for exactly two minutes. He refuses to escape back home because he fears as soon as the mutagen takes control his 'Alligator' personal will try to kill his family, so instead uses the time wisely by sending notes through his portals, warning them of Kaiman's plans, to keep them safe.

Leo's family never gives up on him, but once Alligator discovers Donnie is still alive he tries time and again to finish the job.

Eventually his family finds a way to bring him home, but they are unable to find a cure and their efforts accidentally gives birth to a new persona named Shatter (pictured below)

*Takes place after the krang invasion.

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

A Ninja's Greatest Weapon Leo (mind controlled Shatter) (not posted online yet)

a mind-control mutagen accident melds the Alligator persona (pictured above in the dark blue mask) with Leo's personality, giving birth to an entirely new persona, who aptly names himself Shatter, and wears a mask with a red stripe over right eye, that was blinded from Krang Prime's attack.

Still under the influence of the mind control mutagen to a large degree, Shatter goes out on his own and becomes a rogue mercenary for hire. Although he understands that this is a part of his life he cannot control - he kills because the mutagen makes him kill - he takes great enjoyment in what he does, but only goes after those who he feels is 'deserving' of death (thus retaining a warped sense of honor from his Leo personality).

Shatter winds up working for Big Mama as her Battle Nexus Champ in exchange for protection for a fox yokai named Aurora (with whom he shares a mystical bond) and their unborn child. But he keeps rubbing her the wrong way with some of the choices he makes, so she calls Kaiman to town - who is the only one who knows how to make a mind control mutagen - to make a deal with him to put her champ under her thumb, where he belongs.

When he comes across Kaiman in the Hidden City, Shatter tries to kill him for ruining his life, but can't make himself finish the job because of the mutagen. Meanwhile, five years have passed, he has befriended one of his 'Big Mama assigned' guards - a gorilla yokai named Ben - and his family is still trying to find a cure, with Donnie going to great lengths even to the point of taking his five year old neice, Penelope's advice by seeking the help from an alternate genius version of himself (2012 tmnt crossover).

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

Where You Belong Leo

A few years post krang invasion, after Leo saves the life of a deer yokai the villain (a doberman pincer yokai named Excalibur, along with his mystical pet yokai, an oversized gecko named Geralt) is enraged at his meddling and hits him with a mystic attack, depositing mystic energy inside Leo's head. As a result, he is left is unable to use his ninpo, wield any weapons, and stripped of his ability to communicate - both verbally and non-verbally, so he can't tell anyone about the wicked yokai or what he did.

A series of unfortunate events results in Leo being taken by the dog yokai, mystically afflicted so he cannot escape or fight back, branded as a slave, put to hard work, severely abused by the temperamental dog with a quick temper, and kept locked away in a location deep underground inside a pocket of mystical rocks that blocks the signal from the subcutaneous tracker Donnie placed on him years prior.

The harsh conditions he is forced to live eventually results in the rise of dissociative identity disorder (split personality disorder) and come close to taking his life, so instead of tending to his injuries, Excalibur dumps him in a New York alley with the intent of purchasing another slave, where Donnie's tracker picks up on him and his family brings him home, where they do their best to help him heal.

Although the mystic energy deposited inside his head was removed when he was left for dead, Leo is still unable to talk because of something else that mystical attack did to him, so the entire family learns sign language.

To cover the many scars on his face and body, Leo asks Mikey to make him a hood and a new mask - one that symbolizes his connection to his family and another oc character he cared about who died.

When he is well enough, Leo insists on resuming his hero work, but doing so mostly in the Hidden City, helping to free others who have been forced into the life of harsh slavery (which is legal in yokai society). Because Excalibur reported him as a runaway slave, one of their missions when Leo is by himself, he is discovered by the police, arrested, and has his tracker and mystic powers removed by them.

Instead of being returned to that disgusting dog, Big Mama shows interest in the ninja hero and purchases him as another slave fighter for her Battle Nexus, having a shock device attached to the back of his neck as 'encouragement' for him to do as he is told.

Leo refuses to take the life of another but agrees to fight when he discovers killing in the Battle Nexus was made illegal by the Council of Heads. Now, when the killing blow was to be made, a mystical system automatically portals the loser out of the ring.

In the underground slave quarters, Leo befriends a fellow slave yokai who understands sign language (including his three-fingered adaptation), but is devestated when, a few months later, a fight is rigged and he is killed in the match.

Leo become so despondent he gives up on life. Since a 'broken' slave is not profitable in the ring, Big Mama sends him to a business associate of hers named Kaiman to 'break him Big Mama style,' but the alligator discovers he is different from all her other slaves because of retaining his Hamato honor, and deviously keeps him for himself, separated from his family, not only on a different planet, but in a different dimension.

*Includes a 2012 tmnt crossover.

*The oc character Kaiman in this is modelled after my same oc villain in 'A Ninja's Greatest Weapon' but they're not the same person. This Kaiman isn't a yokai, he's part of a super-intelligent alien race inhabiting a planet in an alternate dimension and is modelled after the 2012 Leatherhead.

*This fanfic ends as a tragedy, but if I post it I'll be willing to change it to a happy ending if that's what most of the readers want.

🔷 🔷 🔷 🔷

23 notes · View notes

whalyrae · 1 year ago

Text

THE OLD GUARD - CHAPTER 4

"We don’t get a say on how it ends, we never have. But we can control how we live."

Summary : You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her)

Genre : soulmate au, demons bts au, witch y/n au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : eventual smut, angst, mention of depression, death, suicide, past trauma, violence, blood, past (sexual) abuse, past torture, PTSD, scars, self harm, and more.

Tag list : @blackrockshooter780 @babyymeme @starrlo0ver @suckerforv @mushroom-main @m1sss1mp @prettydancingdamzel @i-have-no-life-charlie @avadakadabra93 @veronawrites @kawaiikpoplover268 @didi-9310 @ghostlyworld @carolinexkpop @gooooomz @00ihatesnaku

A/N : After months of struggling with life, health, mental health issues... I can FINALLY POST AGAIN !! This chapter was really hard to write (I cried a little at the end ngl :D), I have constant writer block, constant impostor syndrome... I have the perfectionnism trait but in a toxic way really TT.TT Don't hesitate to like and reblog !! Also don't be afraid to leave a little comment or if you have any questions, here or in anon in my inbox !! they are really really welcomed, I love reading all your impressions and thoughts !!

Also thank you so much !! I was inactive for a very long time and I still got daily alerts with people who liked/kudos the chapters and the story :(( I can't express (yeah i'm an author and i can't express through words LOL) how much i'm grateful :(( ♥♥

ps : ah and sorry if there is any mistakes or anything it's almost 2:30am when I post this and I had an really emotionnal day fgkfdhlfk LOVE YALL MUAH ♥

Playlist link : The Old Guard Playlist

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

She was wondering whether it would be better to ask Handong to stay with her. She had assured her that she would handle the situation and that Handong could go home. She knew that Gahyeon would need her at their coffee shop.

However, now that she was in the living room of the seven boys, her soulmates’, after bringing one of them in an utterly unconscious state for a reason as unknown to them as it was to her, she was starting to regret this decision.

She couldn't understand what had happened with Jin the moment their eyes met. She couldn't say anything, the words were stuck in her throat as they stared at each other without a word. He parted his lips as if he wanted to say something, but just like her, nothing came out.

He'd known she was his soul mate, of course he could feel it. Just like her. But had he recognized her? Did he know that the two of them were the firsts of their soulmate bond to meet, long before any of the other six were born? She couldn't be sure and didn't have time to find out.

She had seen his features contort in pain, and without a word, he had collapsed. Luckily, Handong, who had seen them, was able to catch him in time, preventing him from falling to the ground and potentially injuring himself.

Thanks to a spell that increased her strength tenfold, she could carry him without Handong’s help and any difficulty to the place where he lived with his mates. But she couldn't stop herself from hurrying, worried sick about him.

And that's where she is now. Jungkook helped her carry Jin to the living room, laying him on the sofa. While Yoongi woke up Taehyung and Namjoon. Jimin and Hoseok hurried to get a damp cloth on Jin's forehead.

Namjoon and Taehyung stormed into the room, not hiding their surprise at seeing her there in total panic.

However, they didn't ask any questions. Yoongi probably had to explain to them what happened and what was going on.

She was standing in front of the sofa where Jin was lying, staring at the unconscious demon, his features distorted by pain. The sight of him was enough to make her stomach twist with soreness.

"Hey, Noona..." Jimin's soft voice startled her. He was standing next to her, a comforting smile on his lips, "Everything’s going to be fine, don't worry..."

She didn't even know what to say. She didn't dare to look him in the eye, or any of the other boys. The guilt she'd been carrying around with her all these centuries was only getting stronger.

She could hear voices behind her, probably the boys talking amongst themselves, or maybe they were trying to talk to her. She didn't know. Nothing around her was clear and precise. Her vision was blurring, her heart rate had been racing for a while and she was getting worse.

She gasped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round abruptly, facing Namjoon. The other boys were behind him, except for Yoongi who was next to Jin.

"Hey," he greeted her with a gentle smile, "don't worry, everything's going to be fine,” he repeated Jimin’s words, “You're having a panic attack, I'm gonna help you, okay? Look at me."

His voice was soft and reassuring, it had a calming effect on her. His presence and warmth invaded her whole being, despite the anxiety attack she was having.

She raised her eyes to meet him. Slowly, he tells her to take long, deep breaths. The first time, she breathed in and breathed out. Then a second time. And a third.

Finally, her breathing returned to normal and her heart rate calmed. Seeing this, Namjoon gave her another smile, his fingers caressing her shoulder to calm her down.

She had the strange impression that Namjoon probably possessed some kind of power capable of influencing the emotions, feelings, or even bodily reactions of the people he touched. Or maybe it was just the soulmate effect.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes... Thank you..." She replied with a small smile, seeing Hoseok approach her with a glass of water. "Thanks… and sorry, I wish we'd met under different circumstances..."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm enchanted to meet you."

Hoseok gave her a big, bright smile, which he succeeded in communicating to her.

"I guess you guys have questions... and why did I show up with Jin in this state..."

She turned her attention to Jin. A wave of emotion suddenly washed over her as she realized that yes, he was there, in the same room as her. Her soul mate, the first to cross her way, the one she'd lost so suddenly and brutally centuries ago. A mixture of joy, sadness, guilt, and apprehension.

"Do you know what's going on with him? And why is he in this condition?" Hoseok asked curiously, taking back the glass she'd just drunk in one long sip.

She bit her lower lip nervously. She had to tell them. Jin was their soulmate, just like he was hers.

But where to start?

"Come on, settle down here."

Yoongi straightened up to install her on the sofa, right next to Jin still unconscious. He'd then sat down next to her, while the others had taken seats in front of her, Namjoon and Hoseok on the low table, the maknae on the floor, clinging to each other.

The sight made her smile gently. But quickly the smile disappeared, replaced by apprehension. The words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. She knew that the moment had come, that once she'd told them everything, they'd hate her, reject her, and she’d lose the people she'd waited for all her life.

"Noona... I can smell your fear all the way up here..." murmured Jimin, her eyes landing on him with surprise, "I'm an empath, by the way..." he explained with a shrug.

"You don't have to be an empath to sense the fear radiating from her." chuckled Taehyung, teasing his companion who gave him a nudge on the shoulder, "Oops, sorry sweetie."

"I know that from the moment you will know the whole story, you'll never want to hear from me again and I... argh that's the last thing I want," she admitted with a sad smile. The events of the last few days had paralyzed and overwhelmed her in some ways when it came to making the right decisions, and she was extremely upset with herself about this.

"But I think I need to stop being scared, and selfish like I have been."

"We could never hate you," Hoseok said firmly, the others all giving signs of approval, "no matter what you've done."

"Tell us all the horrible things you ever did, and let us love you anyway."

She recognized Namjoon's words. And she wasn’t surprised that he could quote Edgard Allan Poe, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

She couldn't deny that his words made her feel a tinge of comfort, because he was sincere, and every one of the other boys thought so.

But they didn't know the whole story yet, so the chances of them thinking differently once they knew the whole truth were pretty high.

"Where to start..." she took a long breath, "Jin... I met him before I even knew I was immortal. That was... uh... it seems like an eternity now, at the beginning of the 15th century."

She expected the exclamations of surprise that followed.

"Wait... you mean you and Jin hyung..." Jungkook fell silent to think.

"Why didn't he ever tell us about you then? And why have we never met you before ?” asked Yoongi skeptically, "You're our soulmate, his soulmate, how could he..."

"It's more complicated than it sounds..." she sighed, scratching the back of her head nervously. "I always knew I was a witch, my mother was a witch herself. I lived in a village in France during the period when the witch hunts began. It was also during this period that the Malleus Maleficarum was written."

"I know this book," Hoseok sighed loudly as he shook his head, visibly annoyed, "this pile of garbage written in the late 15th century, which supposedly explains what a witch is, how to recognize one, interrogate them, and kill them."

"A load of bullshit yeah," Namjoon added with a chuckle, "I rarely waste my time reading books, but this one..."

"Tell me more !" Jimin exclaimed, "I read it too, well, not all of it, it's so... misogynistic and sexist!"

"I... was one of the witches who had to go through all the torture and experimentation to write this... book or whatever it is. And most of the women who suffered all that crap were just ordinary mortals," she admitted with a little restraint.

Horrified exclamations were heard from the maknaes and Hoseok. Yoongi and Namjoon closed their eyes for a few seconds, repressing the anger rising within them.

Talking about these events did not leave her indifferent; these memories were among the worst she had ever known, and she still sometimes had nightmares about them.

She remained silent for a few moments, before finally speaking up.

"That's not the point. Jin is the point. When I met him, he was a merchant passing through the village." A small smile appeared mechanically as she recalled this memory, "It was love at first sight. Of course, it was. He knew I was his soul mate, but I... I didn't even know what a soulmate was. He taught me. He taught me so many things..."

She turned her head towards Jin, still unconscious beside her. Oh, how she'd missed him. He hadn't changed a bit.

"I immediately sensed that he wasn't human, just as he'd guessed that I was a witch. So much better in a way, it made things easier."

Delicately, she let her fingers stroke his forehead, brushing aside a few strands of hair, a tender smile on her face.

"He stayed in the village after that. I had taken over the bakery from my parents who had passed away from an illness a few months before I met him. We weren't the richest, but we were happy.”

The other boys couldn't contain the grins on their faces. Of course, this story was beautiful and worthy of a fairy tale. But they all knew that fairy tales were only fantasy stories. The reality was not nearly as lovely.

"We lived... two years like that before everything went to hell."

She felt her hands tremble as she recalled what she was about to say.

Jimin sensed her nervousness, fear, and sadness. He left Taehyung and Jungkook's embrace to kneel before her, gently taking her hands in his for comfort.

Her gaze met his, and he offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. But she couldn't relax.

"The witch-hunt had begun and was becoming increasingly virulent and violent. The villagers had always thought it was strange that I hadn't suffered the same illness as my parents. I knew the rumors about Jin and I. But until now, we'd managed to keep a discreet, almost unnoticed presence. Until she came along."

Jimin squeezed her hands a little tighter as he felt her anger rising.

"That demoness... came to our village, supposedly a cloth merchant. She fell for Jin. Was it love, or just a physical attraction? I don’t know. She succumbed to his devastating charm, like so many others before her." She chuckled, imitated by Yoongi.

"As you would expect, Jin did nothing but ignore her and rebuff her advances. She didn't appreciate it at all… I learned later that this half-succubus demoness was renowned for finding prey and not letting go until she got what she wanted."

"A real nasty leech..." muttered Jungkook.

She noticed, however, that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok expressions had changed. They had exchanged glances, seeming to pass a message to each other that she didn't understand. She decided to ignore it for the moment.

"Things got worse after she arrived, after Jin's rejection." She took a long breath. "She's the one who delivered me to the villagers, who exposed me. When we realized her plan, that she was planning to take Jin with her by force, by any means necessary, we wanted to run away. We'd go to Asia, or America, or wherever, to another continent, away from her, away from all of this. But that demoness had planned everything… We were young, unaware, and inexperienced, unlike her. I was barely 25, and he was 23... we just wanted to..."

She paused to calm herself, her heartbeat quickening again. Fortunately, Jimin was able to calm her, just by being here, his soft hands on hers, and she was grateful for that. She thanked him with a small smile, which he returned by stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. How could a demon be so angelic?

"She specialized in memory magic..."

"Oh, I'm getting the hang of it..." muttered Namjoon, clenching his jaw.

"That bitch…" added Yoongi, making her huff.

"The villagers arrived in the middle of the night. We didn't see it coming. The demoness took advantage of this moment to attack Jin and cast a spell to erase me from his memory. The last time I saw Jin was before they put a bag over my head when he was unconscious in her arms."

She lowered her head, and it was only when she felt Jimin's soft hand on her cheek that she noticed a tear had rolled down.

She knew what the demoness had done, she knew that she'd erased Jin's memory, simply because she'd come to see her a few days later in the cell where she was being held captive. She explained everything, adding that she had offered to give her over to the Catholic order of Dominicans who wrote the Malleus Maleficarum. Which happened, the day after she came.

"When I finally escaped... After several months," she continued anyway, her voice trembling, "I looked for him, I... crossed France from top to bottom, and Europe... I looked for him everywhere, for many years... I never found him... until now..."

Jimin's hands gripped hers a little tighter. She looked up at him, then at Yoongi, who had moved a little closer to her. Their shoulders were touching, his way of showing her some comfort.

"So that's what happened..." muttered Namjoon, who had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed, looking thoughtful.

"I hate humans..." blurted Jungkook as he hugged Taehyung tightly, his companion nodding in agreement.

"And so, you thought we'd hate you, or I don't know what other nonsense might go through your little head when we know the truth?" Yoongi asked, holding back a laugh. “I don’t see why. I mean. It’s genuine, really.”

She arched her eyebrows in confusion. She thought that it seemed logical. She hadn't been able to protect Jin, she’d left him in the clutches of this demoness who'd probably done a thousand and one things to him that she didn't even want to think about. She hated herself for it.

"Hyung." Hoseok sighed, shaking his head, "stop."

"I failed to protect him, he's my soulmate and... I abandoned him and..."

"You didn't do any of that, Y/N."

Namjoon approached her. He took Jimin’s place and knelt down facing her, placing his hands on hers.

"You're both the victims. You've met someone stronger, older, more experienced than you and she took advantage of it. You did everything you could. You did your best. You could never be blamed for that. We could never blame you for that. ."

"And Jin hyung won't blame you either, I'm sure," Hoseok added with a small smile. "When he will regain his memory, when we will give him back what that demoness stole from him, he'll be the happiest man in the world to have you back with him, with us. Believe me."

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to cry, not yet.

Yoongi wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"It's over now," he whispered against her hair, "you're not alone anymore, you won't be. We've found you, you've found us."

She couldn't hold back the few tears that had started to fall. How could she not break down, after all those centuries spent alone, thinking that her soulmates didn't want her, living with the guilt of having abandoned the only soulmate she’d ever known.

They said the same things as her friends when she told them everything a few days ago.

None of them thought for a second that what happened to Jin and her was her fault.

That feeling of being understood, of not being judged, of being accepted despite her past mistakes and scars.

That feeling of being in the presence of her soul-mates.

She hadn't felt so at peace in what seemed like an eternity. Ever since Jin and her were separated.

°°°

"Noona... I have a few questions..."

"Here we go... the kid and his questions. Wait, I'll get you an aspirin and a big glass of water."

Jungkook glared at Yoongi, who had gotten up to go into the kitchen, a sneer on his lips.

Jin still hadn't woken up, but after a simple soothing spell and an herbal ointment she’d carefully placed on his temples, he was calmer, his body more relaxed.

She hadn't wanted to stay, not wanting to risk another attack if Jin woke up again. She learned through Yoongi about the migraine attacks he'd had since the day she met Namjoon.

But the boys convinced her to stay. Namjoon and Hoseok had disappeared into their library, explaining that they were going to rummage through their books after a potential counter-spell. She wanted to go with them, but they insisted she stay with Jin and rest.

It didn't take long to realize that Jin's seizures had a direct link with her.

As her soul mate, and despite his forced amnesia, his subconscious knew who she was. But it wasn't strong enough to bring back the memories the demoness had made disappear. Well, they hadn't disappeared, technically; she'd just hidden them very well somewhere in his psyche.

her scent on the clothes of Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook had been the trigger for his subconscious to awaken, for his memories to struggle, to resurface and make Jin realize that yes, he did know her, as his intuition suggested. Yes, the person on the hill was her, yes every memory he thought belonged to someone else was his, and that the blurry person sharing them with him was none other than her.

The migraines, the loss of consciousness... were only signs that his body, mind, and soul were fighting to bring his memories back to where they belonged, to finally give him back what that demoness had stolen from him.

Or at least, that's what she’d come to conclude on hearing Yoongi's explanations.

"Ask me anything Jungkook, don't worry," she replied with a small smile, still sitting next to Jin.

Yoongi had returned with some drinks (no aspirin, to Junkook's great relief) which he gave to the three maknae, still sitting opposite her, and to her, then sat down on the coffee table.

"I was wondering, how did you find out that you were... immortal? I mean, what does that actually mean?"

She'd been expecting this question. Even for demons, immortality was still a rather vague concept. Nobody is immortal. Demons and vampires aged slowly, very much more slowly than human beings. But they weren't really immortal.

"I died for the first time after the Malleus Maleficarum experiments, they sentenced me to be hanged to death, like all the witches at that time."

She heard the exclamations of surprise from the maknaes. Yoongi remained silent, listening to her attentively.

"I actually died that day. Except... except a few seconds after I took my last breath, my heart started beating again, and I came back to life."

None of them could believe their ears. Yoongi couldn't hide his surprise either, and she knew that a thousand questions were forming in their heads.

"The second time was a few days later. At a bonfire." she continued, bowing her head, "The thing is… I feel all the pain, all the way to death. But for some reason, I live again and again. No matter how people try to kill me, no matter how I die, my wounds heal themselves, my organs reform."

"Is it due to a spell?" finally asked Yoongi with his eyebrows furrowed, "or maybe some kind of witch, a hybrid with a phoenix..."

"I think you're going a bit far, hyung..." Taehyung chuckled slightly.

"Hey, every proposition can be plausible, gamin."

She couldn't hold back a smile. It was obvious that they'd known each other for several decades now, that they'd been through a lot together. In a way, she was relieved that at least they hadn't had to go through all that alone.

"I've never known the reason, or why I became like that," she finally continued, scratching the back of her neck, "I just am. Several times I thought I wouldn't get up this time from certain injuries, especially during the wars, but I always got up again. And just like that, more than 600 years have gone by."

"Maybe it's just that fate didn't want you to die before you met your soul mates, who knows." Yoongi chuckled, shrugging.

"If you think the universe and destiny are that kind of romantic..." Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"I'm tempted to believe that theory, it's much sweeter and more romantic than a curse put on you..." added Jimin with a little pout.

"Sometimes things just happen, and they're impossible to explain. Even for creatures like us." she let go with a sigh and an embarrassed smile, "In any case, I've stopped looking and obsessing over it, I've just accepted it."

"Still, it must be painful to die, over and over again..." Jimin cocked his head to the side, feeling a wave of sadness as he thought of all she'd had to go through in her long life. As an empath, his reaction hardly surprised her.

If they knew. She didn't want to dwell on how some humans and even other creatures had taken advantage of her immortality to put her through the many horrors she’d experienced. This wasn't the time to talk about all those things.

“Our pretty soulmate is strong and courageous.” Yoongi finally broke the silence after a few seconds, “She’ll talk about it when she feels ready.”

She bites her lips. She wanted to tell him to not call her pretty, but she felt that it was destined to fail. Yoongi seemed to be stubborn, maybe a little too much.

“Do you guys think Joonie and Hobi will find something ?” Asked Jungkook, looking at Jin with worry.

“For sure they will!” exclaimed Jimin, “Namjoon has books that are centuries old and unique, Hobi and him are the most intelligent demons ever! They’ll find something, surely!”

Jimin was passionate, his trust in his partners was blind and absolute. It was probably the same for all of them, she was sure about it, but Jimin was the one who showed it the most.

“In the worst case…”

“Taehyung don’t start…” mumbled Jungkook, as the others sighed.

“Let me finish! In the worst case, if we don’t find anything for Jin hyung, the solution is simple, very simple. We’ll create new memories, so many new happy memories all together!”

“If something was robbed from you without your consent, I think you'd like to have it back. Don't you think so?" Yoongi asked, his voice softened as he ruffled Taehyung’s hair who nodded with a sad pout.

He was just as worried as the others. There were so many unanswered questions, so many theories without explanations, so many problems without solutions yet.

“Namjoon and Hoseok always find a way to resolve problems, you should be used to it now.”

That voice startled all of them. All five heads turned to the sofa beside Yoongi and her. To everyone's surprise, Jin was staring at them, or rather, at her.

“Jin you’re awake !”

While the younger hurried towards their eldest, their faces racked with worry and relief, she reflexively stepped back.

She couldn't get very far, as her back bumped into a chest. She turned to face Yoongi, who placed his hands gently on her shoulders. He could read the stress and apprehension on her face. He couldn't imagine what she must be feeling right now, coming face to face with the one she'd lost centuries ago.

"Where are you going like this?" he asked at first in a slightly teasing tone, before he leaned towards her and whispered, his voice softening, "Relax, everything's fine."

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. She'd spent her whole life looking for Jin and his other soulmates. Now they were all here. They were all in the same house. Everything still seemed so unreal that she didn’t know how to react or what to do.

“Y/N ?”

She froze when she heard her name coming from Jin's lips. The others in the room gave him a surprised, confused look.

"Hyung, do you..."

"Remember her? Us? Unfortunately not, I don’t. But I heard you guys talking earlier, I wasn't totally unconscious. Thanks for the herbs, by the way, they really appeased my headache."

Her eyes widened at his words. Had he heard everything? Did he know the whole story, just like his other soulmates? In a way, she didn't know if she could handle a new explanation, which was a bit of a relief. On the other, she was concerned about his reaction, since he was the one who was affected.

Jin straightened up to sit on the sofa, helped by Jimin. Yoongi was still standing behind her and gave her a gentle nudge, so that she didn't push herself aside.

Jin's eyes landed on her. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her. She could feel the stress twisting her stomach, her legs going limp as cotton. She felt weaker than she had ever felt before.

"Can you come a little closer, please?"

Jin's voice was soft; she perceived no anger, no resentment on his side. He had kept his comforting aura, the same one she'd known so long ago, the same one that had reassured her countless times.

She soon faced him and lowered herself slightly to be at the same height as him.

How was someone supposed to react to finding their soulmate and youthful amnesiac love, lost in tragic circumstances centuries ago?

She was torn between tears of joy and relief, but the guilt that consumed her seemed to be the most dominant feeling at the moment.

"Jin I..."

She pursed her lips. Her voice trembled. For sure her body would betray her right now.

Jin offered him a tender smile and shook his head.

"Shht, it's all right." he murmured his words as he gently grasped her hand, "come here."

Without waiting for a response from her, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

At first, her eyes widened in surprise. Quickly, she couldn't hold back any longer. Her arms followed and she hugged his waist as if her life depended on it.

"I know what you're thinking," he began, his hand running gently through her hair, "I'm not angry or anything, how could I be? It was never your fault, nor mine." He paused before letting out a small sigh, she could hear all the pain, the sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry you've had to carry this burden all alone all this time…"

Her whole body was shaking. His voice was shaking, as if he were holding back his own tears. She was fighting inside. She was fighting herself not to break down. But her traitorous body still betrayed her, and she couldn't even control her tears, which had started to flow uncontrollably.

But his words. His words resonated not only in her heart but in her entire soul. She didn't know how much she needed to hear those words from him until now.

"We'll find a way, and everything will go back to normal, it will be even better, I promise."

After all these years, these centuries of living with the weight of guilt, the weight of regret, the feeling that she'd never be able to meet her soul mates... she felt all this weight recede, making way for a quietude and lightness like she'd never known before.

An eternity of torment, torture, and pain was finally over.

It was as if she'd been deprived of oxygen all her life, until now, as if her breathing had been cut off, and now she was finally getting it back.

And even though she was currently crying her heart out in Jin's arms, she could also feel Taehyung's warm, reassuring hand on her back, Jimin's, Jungkook's, and Yoongi's presence in the room, Namjoon's and Hoseok's, even if they weren't in the same room with them.

Her cries were no longer cries of sadness. There was only relief, and it was becoming more of an evacuation from all that time of pain and isolation.

All those smells, all that warmth that invaded her body at that moment, brought her calm and relief she'd never be able to explain, not even in a day, a year, ten years, or even a hundred years.

The reunion with Jin that day, feeling him against her again, as well as having the presence of her soul mates around them, those who were destined for her. After all this time where her heart and soul had been crying out for help, she had finally been heard.

The darkness was finally disappearing, as the clouds and obscurity finally allowed the sun a chance to shine.

And despite her tears, she couldn't help smiling, because at last, she knew that happiness really was within her grasp.

138 notes · View notes

batfan-01 · 2 years ago

Text

So I was watching panda redd and I came across a video on legacy characters and whether or not average citizens know legacy characters are legacy characters. It got me thinking about an AU idea I've had for a while. In this AU gothamites know there are different Robins and each Robin is known for something different. Like Jason Todd would be called the Robin of Crime Alley because in this AU Jason would patrol around crime alley a lot and would befriend the street kids and protect them (sorta like in that ao3 fic Jason Todd: The Not-So-Outlaw). So here's some headcanons:

(Jason's 12 years old when he's picked up by Bruce)

On school nights Jason wasn't allowed to patrol, but Jason would sneak out anyways and have a secret patrol of his own

At first, he just ventured where ever, but after while, he started hanging around crime alley more and more until he just stopped going anywhere else

Jason would play basketball with the street kids and all of them would want him on their team and get really competitive about it.

He'd get to know everyone on the block pretty well (including the street kids, the sex workers, bodega owners, etc)

He'd tell street kids the best places to sleep to avoid the rain and all the warmest places to go during the winter

When he catches one of them stealing instead of stopping them he'd whisper "hey, if you keep that up your going to get caught" and they'd spin around to face Jason who was perching on the fire escape and Jason would then procede to school them on the ways to steal without getting caught

He'd never turn street kids over to the cops, knowing how bad the foster system was, so he'd always try to find them safe places to sleep, protect them as much as he can, and keep them out of gangs and gang violence

Whenever he'd encounter a kid caught up in a gang during patrol, during his secret patrol, or on a mission he'd would always try to talk them out of it and share some of his own experiences.

Bruce found that Jason, having been a street kid, was great on missions with gangs that mostly recruited street kids or human trafficking rings that take street kids, because he understood them and could gain there trust easily

Jason, while he was living on the streets fending for himself always felt like no one cared if he lived or died, if he was safe or not, or if he was healthy or happy. He saw as adults who were supposed to help him (like cops, social workers, foster parents, etc) instead beat him up, ignored him, and just got him out of the way as soon as possible.

Jason found the most rewarding part of being Robin, was being able to assure kids once like himself that they are seen and cared for, like no one did for him (until Bruce)

Jason would dramatically recite stories from patrol to the kids

He Definitely brags about how he stole the tires off the Batmobile

"I would have gotten away with it if I hadn't come back for the last one" - Jason

Jason is also known by the sex workers which all think is the cutest kid ever and have practically adopted him

He makes sure that nobody disrespects them and beats up any perv that tries to hurt them

During Jason's run, crime alley became a sort of safe haven for street kids after word got out on the streets that the new Robin was protecting street kids there

One night, Jason catches a bunch of no-good cops beating the crap of a street kid he knew and he loses his crap on the cops and beats them into the ground. After a few events similar to this one, Jason starts to gain a bad reputation around the GCPD (mostly just around the corrupt ones)

Each of the Robins have a style to them that sets them a part from the rest, they wear more or less of one color, they rely more heavily on one weapon, and have different hair types/styles. This is what cues gothamites into the fact that there are different Robins.

Jason's suit was red and black with a touch of gold. He would rely more on his fists and a batarang he used more like a switch blade since he got used to having to fight with one when he lived on the streets, and he had very curly hair he'd keep medium/short and messily parted in the middle

He was also a pretty dirty fighter, as slick as a alley cat (also got that from his time on the streets)

While Dick Grayson's was known for making puns and witty remarks to make fun of the rogues during fights, Jason was just a straight up asshole.

He had a ✨talent✨ for pissing the rogues off

Bruce supposed it was useful because it tends to throw them off their game

Dick and Barbara found it hilarious

Gothamites found it hilarious

Few videos of Jason's time as Robin existed on the web, but the ones that did were comedy gold.

Batman catches Jason on his "secret" patrol one night and they have a huge fight about it. Bruce doesn't want Jason out on patrol by himself because it's dangerous (and he has school in the morning which he needs to be awake for) and Jason argues his grades are fine (more than fine actually) and he's been out on his own enough times and can take care of himself.

But Jason is still grounded and benched for two weeks.

Incidentally, after Jason got caught, a post starts to circulate online with images of Jason playing basketball with street kids, talking and hanging out with them, and even of Jason casually leaning on a counter while making small talk with a cashier at a bodega. The post is captioned "Robin in crime alley" it goes viral and the Gotham Gazette even writes a story about it. The article calls Jason "The Robin of Crime Alley" Soon media outlets start to refer to Jason as "The Robin of Crime Alley" whenever there's a story on Batman and Robin

Part two:

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd #batman #robin #dick n jason #robin!jason #batfam headcanons #headcanons #jason todd headcanon #bruce wayne #bruce and jason #batman and robin #dick grayson #barbara gordon #red hood #Robin of Crime Alley AU #park row #crime alley

107 notes · View notes

arty-chase · 2 years ago

Text

Who Made Me a Villain (5)

To the ppl who read my fics only on tumblr, I am sorry. I have been posting a lot on ao3 and I keep forgetting that I have a tumblr acc. I will try to be more mindful in the future.

--------

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Here) (Part 6)

-----

“B, what’s all this?” Dick asked during one of his visits to Gotham. He was here for Alfred’s cooking.

Upon seeing the eye bags on Bruce, Dick was understandably worried. “Have you slept at all, Bruce?”

“A few days ago, Rebel brought something serious to my attention.”

Bruce had spent days working on the case Rebel had dropped into his lap. He felt that she had summarised the situation too simply. Or she was unaware of what the full extent of the situation was due to her lack of experience and knowledge.

John Constantine was unhelpful in getting more information on the Miraculous but did confirm their presence in Paris in the same period Rebel had given. Rebel had given more information than him.

Zatanna said that she would sort through her father’s journals to give him a definite answer but told him that it was likely Rebel was telling the truth about Paris. There were surges of the magical equivalent of earthquakes from Paris which her father had gone to check out a few years ago.

Diana had overheard their conversation and talked about how her mother used to wield the Ladybug Miraculous. She promised to talk to her mother for more information. Bruce decided to ask Doctor Fate later if his research wasn’t enough.

However, the thing that had Bruce tearing apart his training dummies like they were paper was the good-for-nothing, sham of a man that Paris had for a mayor.

Mayor André Bourgeois had blocked all news about the akuma from getting out of the city. He didn’t report about it to the Justice League European branch and blocked all attempts to prevent others from reporting it. His reasoning was that the child heroes were enough. That was just the political side of things.

To further make things worse, the heroes who were stationed in France all claimed to have been told to be relocated to other cities by the Justice League Headquarters. They did as they were told under the assumption that someone else would be filling in for them. Just before Hawkmoth struck.

Bruce investigated that lead and it appears that someone had sent out that order but Bruce hadn’t figured out who it was yet or whether it really was sent by one of the Justice League. Either they had a mole or the JL Headquarters needed a new update to their systems.

Then, one of Zatanna’s contacts in Paris had informed her that magic helped in preventing news of akuma reaching outside of Paris.

By the time Dick came to the Manor, Bruce was hours deep into the many footage he had spent the most of the day collecting from the internet. He started with the first akuma where Ladybug and Chat Noir were practically strangers shoved together and forced to rely on each other. He didn’t like that the Parisians were forcing the love narrative between the two of them. Ladybug had the sense to focus on her job and remain professional while Chat Noir tried to enforce the love story. He was not pleased with that interview.

The Ladyblog that was run by a very dedicated teenager was very helpful in getting raw footage of most fights, albeit a bit shaky and blurry. He was currently watching the blog owner’s interview with Ladybug. How she got an interview with the very elusive heroine Batman doesn’t know. There was something about the heroine that caught his attention. It felt like he had met Ladybug before.

Dick skimmed over the notes Batman had taken. He whistled. “This is pretty crazy.”

“Why are you doing all of this research?” Dick asked.

“Hawkmoth. I am trying to track him down.”

“Wait, you are telling me that there is a powerful supervillain in Paris and these kids are heroes? They look like babies. They don’t even know how to properly fight.”

“We are already too late. Hawkmoth has been defeated and stripped of his powers.”

“So what’s the problem? Is he coming back?”

Bruce sighed heavily and showed off his days of research to Dick.

“Rebel had been planning something for months. Something big. I asked the reason behind it all. She asked me to bring him to justice and she would call it all off. Apparently, the leader of the hero team, Ladybug, gave Hawkmoth the equivalent of the slap on the wrist and Rebel doesn’t agree with him being off the hook that easily. He got his wife in exchange for giving back the Miraculous under his possession and didn’t face consequences for his little foray into villainy.”

“How does she know what happened to Hawkmoth?” Dick asked, “It just says that no akumas was seen for a month and then, Ladybug announced that Hawkmoth was defeated before disappearing forever.”

“According to her, Rebel used to be one of the heroes going against Hawkmoth.” Bruce told him.

Dick nearly fumbled the file in his hand due to the surprise.

“Oh. Um. That- That explained a few things. The experience in fighting. Those acrobatic stunts. Former hero, huh.”

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of somebody who was once a hero turning to the dark side.

Dick changed the subject. “Any luck finding him?”

“I have one suspect. He’s the one that fits the profile.”

Bruce handed Dick a file.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Dick looked through it. “He’s a fashion designer. That doesn’t exactly scream evil to me.”

“Even without Rebel’s hints. He’s still suspicious.” Bruce said. “I am meeting him in a month to get a feel for him.”

Dick closed the file. “Even if he is Hawkmoth, it’s been a few years since his defeat. We can’t just take him in.”

Bruce suddenly looked very tired.

Tim popped up from where the pile of blankets besides the Batcomputer that Dick hadn’t noticed. Dick’s and Bruce’s voices have woken him up.

Dick definitely did not scream.

“Tim! How long were you there?” Dick asked, putting his escrima sticks away.

“A few hours I think.” Tim replied and yawned.

“Anyhoo,” Tim started, “Rebel had already taken care of that part. She had been using different accounts to sow seeds of conspiracy theories and rumours for people online to find Hawkmoth’s true identity. No mention of Gabriel being Hawkmoth or it won’t be taken seriously if the truth comes out. I think she is trying to spread the idea that Hawkmoth must be taken in to face the legal system.”

“Why is she going that far?”

Bruce was silent for a moment. “Hawkmoth was part of the reason she was framed for murder.”

“Framed? Why do you think that she was framed? Her father is the Joker. The Joker. The one who killed Jason.”

Bruce stiffened. Jason had left Gotham after their last showdown. Last Bruce heard of him, Jason had teamed up with Roy Harper to form his own mercenary team.

“I know. But children are not their parents.”

Bruce handed Dick another file.

“Her case file and the transcript of her trial. Read it and draw your own conclusions.” Bruce instructed.

Dick took it.

“You are not going to like it, Dick.” Tim said.

—--

A day later, Dick came back, storming into the Batcave.

He slammed the file in front of Bruce.

“What the fuck is wrong with people? How did something like this get past you?” Dick demanded furiously.

There was the last thing that was cherry on the icing of the cake that was this whole situation.

Rebel was not supposed to be in Arkham Asylum. She was not supposed to get a life sentence. She was not supposed to have fourteen charges of first-degree homicide to her name.

Dick read the trial proceeding.

It was way over exaggerated and very dramatised. He thought that he was reading the script for a courtroom soap opera drama. Dick even went as far as to hack into the French government to get the untranslated copy of the files and it was just as bad but in French. It didn’t take him long to find the blatant amount of bribes that were tossed around. The very obvious abuse of power. Every odds was stacked against Rebel. The unnecessary DNA test that unfortunately brought her to Gotham.

No wonder Marinette Dupain-Cheng turned to a life of crime. Everyone was dead set on labelling her the bad guy.

Then, he read Gabriel Agreste’s involvement in the case. His son was part of Rebel’s old class. Their classmates spoke about Rebel’s stalker tendencies towards him. But Dick kept an open mind, knowing how exaggerated everything was. Gabriel had blacklisted Rebel from every company in the fashion industry he had connections with. That move confused Dick until he found out that Rebel was trying to be an aspiring designer. It was essentially salt in her wounds.

Dick simply couldn’t understand the witch hunt against Rebel.

“Bruce, we have to do something about this.” Dick said.

“The only thing we can do right now is bring Hawkmoth in before Rebel takes it into her own hands.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dick asked.

Tim injected. “You already know that Rebel had been acting suspicious for the past few months. She had been meeting up with several different villains and secret projects we couldn’t figure out until now.”

“We found a warehouse in Washington connected to her that contained these strange stone statues.”

Bruce pulled up a picture of the stone statues in the warehouse.

“Now look at the clip of the first akuma attack.”

Bruce played a clip of Stoneheart attack. The monster looked similar to the stone statues in the photo.

“Going through the akuma fights and her movements in the past few months. It is obvious what she is trying to plan.”

Picture of Rebel talking to many different ice villains with a powerpoint presentation and a clip of the Glaciator attack.

Picture of a machine that could create floods that the Teen Titan had managed to shut down a few years back and picture of Paris being flooded.

Picture of Weather Wizard, next to a picture of Stormy Weather.

“She’s trying to recreate akuma fights.” Dick concluded. “And making it seem like Hawkmoth was back.”

Bruce nodded gravely. “I wouldn’t have figured it out if Rebel didn’t deliberately let me in on her plans. She exposed a great problem we had missed. She is giving us, the League, a chance to rectify our mistake.”

Rebel was not counting on the legal justice system to bring Hawkmoth to justice. She was counting on him as Batman to make sure that Hawkmoth ended up with the same fate as her. His reputation torn apart and dragged through mud. Behind bars for the rest of his life with the supervillain mark following him everywhere.

Or she will forcefully do it by bringing the whole world down to force the Justice League in carrying it out.

“Without Ladybug’s miraculous power, it would be disastrous for us and we would have a lot of civilian casualties.”

“I don’t think she would do that, Bruce.” Tim argued.

“Then, lock her up.” Dick suggested.

“Arkham is currently in no position to take her in.” Bruce said. He looked resigned.

Dick looked at Tim for an explanation which he helpfully provided. “It was being renovated a few months ago to put in a new security system. In the chaos, her records were wiped out from the system and her physical reports went missing. Every copy was gone. So even if we arrest her now, we have to find a pretty good justification to keep her there legally. We only have these copies because Bruce regularly back-ups the Arkham database onto the Batcomputer and the Bat-net.”

Dick cursed. While they could just put it back, it wasn’t worth the headache if it was erased again.

“What about the police? Won’t they have her records?”

“Same thing. We think she did it when Clayface attacked the police a while back.”

“How about her original case that sent her to Arkham?”

“It was erased too. We need to get to Paris in order to access their database or if she erased her case, then we need to get the physical copy and we would have to go through so much legal bullshit to get it. That will take months.”

“She covered everything.” Dick said, amazed.

“She thought of all the possibilities and covered all of her bases. She had been staying under the radar and not getting caught.” Bruce said.

“He means that he got caught in her traps if we try to catch her.” Tim said with a shit eating grin on his face.

Bruce grumbled.

“You? How did you even get caught?” Dick asked.

“Rube Goldberg machines.” Tim answered.

“Rube what?”

“Here.” Tim opened up Youtube and showed Dick a video of a marble rolling down a pipe and then knocking down a row of dominoes in a spiral which continued to set off a chain of reactions that ended with a ball going neatly through a hoop and triggering a banner that said ‘WOW!’ to pop up.

“So that’s what it is called.” Dick commented. “Aren’t these like super complicated to do? She couldn’t have set them up that quick …unless she had them set up beforehand.”

“According to my research, she has at least 50 of these set up in different locations around Gotham. There are videos of people setting these off on purpose. Rebel is always making more. They usually have victims stuck in a net or a hole. Or have water, paint or liquids splashed onto them.”

“She did that? That picture you sent me where Bruce had yellow pain all over him?”

Bruce glared at Tim.

A derisive snort came from the entrance of the Bat cave.

They all turned to look at the newest addition to the house.

Damian Al Ghul. Well, Damian Al Ghul Wayne now.

“I find it hard to believe that this one petty criminal got the better of all of you.” He said mockingly.

“Damian.” Bruce said. “Even if she is just a petty criminal, she cannot be underestimated. You must never underestimate your opponent, no matter how deceiving they look.”

“Perhaps Father, you and Drake aren’t good at doing your jobs.”

“Like you would be any better catching her.” Tim said under his breath.

“If it was up to me, she would be killed on sight.” Damian continued.

“Damian, we do not kill here. People deserve another chance to redeem themselves.” Bruce explained like he had a thousand times before.

Damian scowled. “I don’t need to kill. I have brought in targets alive before.”

The way he said it implied that those targets were in a state where their hearts were the only things that could still move.

“Do you really believe that you can catch Rebel?” Tim asked.

“I don’t have to believe. I know I can.” Damian answered, disdain in his voice that Tim dared to doubt his skills.

“I bet you can’t.” Tim taunted.

Damian lunged but was stopped by Dick who grabbed his shoulder.

“Boys!” Bruce shouted. “Tim, stop antagonising him. Damian, you know you aren’t allowed to go out on patrol.”

“No!” Damian demanded. “Drake has issued me a challenge. I will not back down. I will prove to him and you that I can catch that petty criminal that goes by Rebel.”

His declaration was filled with the determination and stubbornness that all eleven year olds seemed to possess.

Bruce rubbed his head at the oncoming headache.

He knew that despite whatever he gave, Damian would go behind his back and against his orders to fulfil his self-assigned mission of capturing Rebel.

“Tim, this is all your fault. I am blaming you for this. You will be washing the Batmobile for a month.” Bruce said after some thinking.

“Bruce!” Tim complained. “What did I do?”

“You started it. And Damian, I will let you go after Rebel.”

Damian gave Tim a smug grin.

“However,” Bruce continued. “There will be a few conditions.”

Damian stood up straighter and paid attention. “One, Nightwing will be with you.”

“What? Why, Bruce?” It was Dick.

“I am busy with the Hawkmoth case. Tim and Damian shouldn’t be together. Cass and Steph are busy with their own things. I don’t think Jason wants anything to do with me and he’s out of town. Babara has no desire to watch Damian.”

“Thank you, Bruce.” Oracle’s voice came from the Batcomputer.

“Tch. Grayson is an acceptable choice.” Damian said with a sniff.

“Fine. I can stay for a week or two. Give me a few hours to sort some things out.” Dick threw up his hands in defeat.

“However, he will not be helping you. He is going to be monitoring your every move and he will intervene if it was a life and death situation.” Bruce added.

“Fine.” Damian replied.

“Two, when you bring Rebel in, she should not have sustained any life-threatening and fatal injuries. She should also possess all of her limbs intact.”

Damian scowled harder. “I know my limits. Anything else?”

“Three, do not kill anyone to achieve your goals.”

“Got it.”

“Your deadline to bring her in is in three months. You will report to me on your progress every morning. That’s all. Any questions?”

“No. I will not fail you, Father.” Damian said seriously.

“Does anyone else find this funny?” said Dick. “Son of Batman hunting down daughter of Joker. Children of two arch-enemies repeating history.”

“That only means that I am destined to bring her in.” Damian further solidified his mission.

—--

Forty-eight hours later, found Damian, currently going by Redbird, tied up, covered in green paint and dangled upside-down over a vat of something that smelled utterly foul.

Rebel landed near Nightwing and asked, “So what’s the deal with the new kid?”

Nightwing extended a hand dramatically towards Damian, “That’s Batman’s blood son.”

Rebel frowned. “Is this going to be a thing now? Child of Batman versus child of Joker. Because I really don’t want to hurt the kid that much.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD.” Redbird yelled as he struggled against his restraint. “Nightwing, help me get untied and catch the villain!”

“Would a dip in that kill him?” Nightwing asked, pointing at the vat of whatever that was. He wanted to stay more than 20 feet away due to the smell alone.

Rebel shrugged.

“Probably not. It’s just water from the Gotham River with the contents of the nearest dumpster emptied into it.”

Nightwing shivered. He had taken a dip in the icy cold waters of Gotham River before. It was not pleasant. And the amount of showers he had to take to finally get rid of the smell.

“Good news, Redbird.” Nightwing shouted back. “You won’t die if you fall.”

Redbird threw some words in Arabic that sounded a lot like swears.

“So… I ask again. What’s up with the kid?”

“He thinks that Batman would accept him as the one true heir of the Batman title if he catches you.” Nightwing explained. “It has nothing to do with the blood rivalry thing. He’s trying to prove Batman wrong by trying to succeed in catching you when Batman and Robin - especially Robin - couldn’t catch you.”

“It’s there like a deadline for this? Because I really don’t want to play cats and dogs forever with the gremlin.”

“Oh yeah. There is.”

Rebel smirked. “That means I just have to up my game then. Thanks for the heads up, Bluey.”

Nightwing’s smile faded as he realised his slip-up. “Damn it. Baby Bat is going to kill me.”

“Hey, can I use that nickname?”

“Does it matter if I say no?” Nightwing said.

“Nope.” Rebel said with a laugh as she slipped away into the shadows.

—--

A Bat signal shone in the night sky. Calling Batman to action.

However, it was not Commissioner Gordon who met Batman on the rooftop that night.

“Commissioner-” Batman immediately went on guard as a petite figure of Rebel greeted him instead of the broad shoulders of the Commissioner.

“What did you do to him, Rebel?” Batman growled out.

“Chill, Mister Bat, he’s dealing with an anonymous tip off for his latest case at the other side of the city. I just flipped the switch to your nightlight to get your attention. Less messy than other methods, don’t you agree?” Rebel explained as she switched the Bat-signal light off.

He glared at her. “What do you want?”

“A week is up. So what are you going to do?”

Batman gave a tired sigh. To be honest, he had forgotten about the deadline. There were so many things he had to take care of. Starting with the possible Justice League breach. An entire city being under attack and no one noticing until the problem was gone. The investigation into who Hawkmoth was. Finally, dealing with a testy Damian who didn’t take his loss against Rebel well.

“My conclusions showed me that you were telling the truth about akumas. I would like to apologise on the behalf of the Justice League for our massive oversight. You were a child that had to fight a war without support.”

“I won that damn war. Without your help.” Rebel said defensively.

“Yes. You did. I am not criticising your achievement, Rebel. I am just pointing out that you were a child fighting those monsters everyday and some of those monsters had been a family or a friend. You shouldn’t have to carry a burden like that on your shoulders. Even Nightwing had me to look after him until he could step out of my shadow to fly on his own.”

“We weren’t alone.”

“You weren’t. You had other people who were as clueless as you about what to do. No one taught you the basics. You had to learn how to fight all on your own. You had to learn to do it right on the first try because a mistake would cause you everything. I am sorry that we weren’t there to provide that guidance.”

“Why are you apologising for that? You didn’t know.”

Batman’s frown became deeper. “That is exactly the problem. Something this big slipped under our radar.”

He went on to explain about how the oversight occurred. If anything, Rebel looked surprised by the news.

“So you're telling me that I could have had help. I wouldn't have to do it all on my own if it wasn’t for a lot of people meddling.”

She sounded angry. The comment about her doing it all on her own confirmed a theory Batman entertained. There was a little evidence that pointed out otherwise but with magic there was no telling if the evidence wasn’t faked.

“We never realised until now. We have failed you.” Batman apologised.

“Kwami. All this time. I thought you were too busy with your own world-saving to pay attention to Paris. Fucking Mayor Bourgeois. Fuck Magic. Fuck whoever mess with your systems. Fuck Hawkmoth.” Rebel screamed. “What else? What else do I have to know that I didn’t know?”

“That’s mostly it. I am here to get your account of what exactly happened during those years.” Batman paused (Dramatic bitch) “I also need you to confirm the identity of Hawkmoth.”

“Well…” Rebel inclined her head for him to continue.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Rebel smiled from under her mask. “Bingo. As expected of the World’s Greatest Detective.”

She pulled out a flash drive from her pocket and handed it to Batman. “Here’s everything I wrote down from what I remembered.”

“How did you know I would ask for it?” Batman asked as he took it and put it away in his utility belt.

“I didn’t. I was going to send that to every news station when I start my Armengeddon plans.”

Batman stared at Rebel, waiting for her to hand over her Armengeddon plans she had given the other villains.

Rebel stared back at him defiantly.

“Hand them over.” Batman demanded.

“I already gave you what you needed.” Rebel said with a raised eyebrow, pretending to be oblivious about what Batman wanted.

“What about your Armengeddon plans?”

“Oh. Those plans. Yeah. Gimme a minute.” Rebel reached into her jacket inner pocket and took out a slim notebook. She tossed it to Batman who expertly caught it.

He flipped through it and noticed the jagged edges of pages torn out. He also noticed that none of the plans that involved other villains were in the book.

“Where are the missing plans?” Batman asked harshly.

“You thought it was going to be easy?” Rebel said amused. “I want definite proof that you are working on taking him in.”

“How long do I have to get you proof?” Batman asked cautiously.

“When is the deadline for your son to catch me?”

Batman knew that tone. He had heard that tone from the clown before Joker pulled out the punchline.

“In three months.” He answered.

“That’s around when the plan is supposed to start anyways. Then, if you don’t have it by the time Redbird catches me, you won’t get the plans. However, if he doesn’t catch me by the three month deadline, you will get the plans and I will tell the others that everything is called off.”

Batman had a feeling that if Rebel wasn’t wearing her mask, there would be a smile on her face identical to the one Joker would usually wear for his maniacal plans.

Children aren’t always their parents. But they sometimes inherit their parent's worst traits.

“Deal.”

What other options did he have but to play along with her games.

—-

After Rebel was gone, Redbird came out of the shadows.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” He demanded. Redbird had been hiding to unleash a surprise attack when Rebel proposed that inane condition to Batman.

Batman sighed. “We will talk more back at the Cave.”

“I want an explanation now.”

“Just hold off trying to catch her for at least a week, Redbird. I am not going to stop you from your task. Maybe use that time to observe her instead.”

Redbird huffed but nonetheless accepted the compromise.

“Fine. It gives me more time to make more well thought out plans.”

“Since she would mostly be at school, you won’t have to do much.”

Batman grappled off the roof and Redbird followed.

When they reached the Batmobile, Redbird turned to his father and said.

“Father, I have been thinking. Perhaps I should infiltrate her school in order to get closer and gain more information on her movements.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise, remembering the first time he suggested Damian going to school and being told that he was never going to step foot into a subpar teaching environment.

“Are you sure, Damian?”

“I am sure.” Damian said firmly.

“I will call the principal in the morning and arrange everything.”

—

“Come back here, you-” The insult was lost as Redbird comically stepped on the rake. The handle hit his face like those old cartoon gags.

A slew of Arabic curses were unleashed.

"Tick-tock, birdy." Rebel taunted as Redbird held his broken nose. "It's nearly midnight and I am not still not in chains or behind bars."

"I should have your tongue cut out for your insolence."

"That threat lost its charm about two months ago." Rebel replied in a bored tone.

"Be more creative. Like ‘I will slowly take a small piece of your tongue a day, roast it and force feed it to you’." Rebel declared with an imitation of Redbird’s voice but slightly higher pitch than it actually was.

“I will gladly do so.” The threat probably would have sounded more intimidating if Redbird wasn’t still holding his broken nose and didn’t sound like he had a very bad nasal problem.

Rebel covered her mask with her hand as if trying to hide a smirk.

“Well, little bird, if you are done with your threats, I will be off- WHAT THE FUCK!”

Rebel didn’t look where she was going and had fallen down the hole in the roof that was hidden with a tarp..

Redbird grinned as he peered over the hole where Rebel had fallen into a cage he had set up to work like a bear trap.

“You aren’t the only one skilled with traps in this city.” He boasted.

Nightwing landed, giving Redbird an appreciative whistle and applause.

“Good job, baby Bat.”

“Call the police, Nightwing. Tell them I have the fiend, Rebel, in custody.” Redbird said.

“Sure thing.”

Redbird turned to give Rebel a smug look at his sure victory. It immediately got wiped out as he saw Rebel dangling her legs over the hole she fell down a few minutes ago.

She gave him a cheeky wave.

“HOW?” Damian exploded. “HOW DID YOU ESCAPE MY FOOLPROOF TRAP?!”

“It’s not foolproof if a fool like me could get out of it that easily. Nice setup though. Gave me a few ideas for my next project.”

Redbird growled and launched himself at her. Rebel rolled out of his way.

Landing nimbly, Redbird charged at her and threw a few attacks. Rebel effortlessly dodged every one of them.

Nightwing watched with a bored look on his face as Redbird chased Rebel around the rooftop.

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk. I'm a woman's man, no time to talk ....”

Rebel took out her phone and turned off her alarm as she ducked a birdarang.

“It’s midnight! And you know what that means. You just failed your mission.” Rebel announced cheerfully.

Redbird yelled in anger and charged at her.

Nightwing stepped in between the two to restrain Redbird.

“Chill, baby bat. You need to calm down. She won, fair and square.”

“And just as promised, I will send over the plans I made for the other villain to the Big Guy.” Rebel continued as she walked backwards to the edge of the rooftop.

“See ya around, Birdies.” She said as she jumped back off the roof while giving them a finger salute.

Nightwing hurriedly let go of Damian and ran to look over the parapet wall. Rebel appeared to be perfectly fine after a five-storey drop and was calmly putting her helmet on. She got on her bike and drove off.

“Um… guys.” Oracle’s voice came over the comms. “There is actually fifteen minutes left until midnight. She lied.”

The two vigilantes looked at each other and cursed. They grappled off, trying their best to catch the cunning villain.

—

“I am sorry that I failed you, Father.” Damian reported.

Three months should have been more than sufficient for him to complete his assigned task successfully. He even had subjected himself to the establishment called a school in order to catch Rebel.

Each time, he thought that he was close to capturing the most slippery villain in all of Gotham. Something would interfere in his plans and Rebel continued to walk free.

Head down ashamed as he kneeled on the cold floor of the Batcave to receive his punishment. Damnit, why was his vision getting blurry?

The shadow from his father’s cape moved closer and blocked out the light. Damian braced for the pain.

Damian was confused when he felt his Father placed his hand on his head. It felt… odd and comforting.

“It’s alright. You did your best. Even with the restriction I placed on you.” Bruce said.

Damian’s confusion increased.

“But… I failed.”

It did hurt to admit his failure but he was more confused by his father’s actions. Grandfather would have given out some sort of punishment by now. Like going against some of the League’s Finest on his own.

The hand moved from his head to his shoulder.

“Look at me, Damian.”

Damian obeyed and met his father’s blue eyes. The colour reminded him of the flowers his mother would sometimes wear in her hair when Grandfather was out of Nanda Parbat.

“Even if you had failed in your task, you still had helped me.”

Damian was flabbergasted.

“How?”

“In order to capture her, you monitored her every move. Because of you and your reports, I knew her every move. Avoiding your attempts kept Rebel so busy that she wasn’t able to work on her plans as much. Which gives me more time to work on how to bring Hawkmoth in.”

“I still failed.”

“And I am telling you that you still did a good job. You can learn from this experience and learn how to do better.” Bruce said.

“Aren’t you going to punish me?”

“No. I am not going to punish you for this.”

The answer seemed to have shifted Damian’s worldview. It broke Bruce’s heart to know how Damian had been treated. Being punished for failure which made Damian scared to fail.

“How.. how can you…”

Damian didn’t seem to comprehend that there would be no punishments for failing.

“Damian.” Bruce said gently. “I know that this is hard for you to comprehend but we do things differently here. We do not kill. And we do not punish people for simply failing.”

“But Drake… Batmobile.”

Oh right, grounding.

“I will reiterate. I will not physically hurt you as punishment for failing your mission. I do not like raising my hand to people I call family. Yes, you are part of it now, Damian, no matter how unexpected your arrival was. I prefer giving you chores to do instead. Like washing the Batmobile. Giving Ace a bath. Organising the case files. Helping Alfred around the Manor. Even then, it’s only if you misbehave and go against the rules of the Manor. And you may see them as pointless but they were put in place to keep you safe. I don’t want to see any of you hurt. Yes, including you, Damian.”

Bruce hoped that he got through Damian. Made him see that things were different now but they were a good kind of different. Maybe now Damian would let him in and be the better person Bruce knew he could be.

Bruce thought all of this as he hugged the slightly shaking boy in his arms who hid his face with Bruce’s chest. ------ (Part 6) ----

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls, @just-a-random-girl-loves-anime, @maddiesupdates, @the-dumber-scaramouche,

#who made me a villain #biodad! joker #cue bruce being a good dad #introducing insufferable damian #morally grey marinette/rebel #mlb x dc #ml x dc

22 notes · View notes

wizardingworldlibrary · 5 months ago

Text

Christmas Fluff (2) Masterlist

part one

And a Hedgehog in a Pine Tree (ao3) - eyra sirius/remus, james/lily T, 8k

Summary: The door swings shut behind them, blocking out the howling wind and the bitter chill and instead there’s a gently crackling fire and a patchwork sofa and layers and layers of tapestry rugs spread out over an old oak floor. The air is so toasty Sirius could weep, and he can smell chocolate and woodsmoke and something that might be peppermint, and then someone is taking his coat and grinning at him and he thinks, maybe, he did die out there on the icy roads. Maybe this is his own personal Elysium, and as he blinks stupidly at the man in front of him and takes in his freckles and his hat-flattened curls and the way his jumper has little knitted reindeer woven into the pattern, he thinks death maybe isn’t so bad, actually.

Remus is the owner of a Christmas tree farm deep in the New Forest. Sirius is a curmudgeonly writer who doesn’t believe in Christmas. It’s snowing, there’s a roaring fire, and we all know how this is going to go.

a pretty boy with a pretty voice (ao3) - hello_there_darcy regulus/james, sirius/remus M, 30k

Summary: "It was December 12th, just another Monday. But as with most unexpected circumstances, at the drop of a hat (or the ring of a bell), just another day can suddenly, without warning, and very magically so, transform into a day that changes the trajectory of one’s life. For James Fleamont Potter, Monday, December 12th turned out to not be “just another Monday” but rather the single most important day of his life."

James is so in love with Regulus that he forgets the alphabet even exists

baby, it's cold outside (ao3) - potterheading draco/harry M, 2k

Summary: in which harry just wants to go flying, and draco shows him the pros to being snowed in.

Golden Rings and Special Things (ao3) - emlohamora hermione/draco M, 14k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a personal goal to keep his wife as happy as she can be. He gives her everything, will always do anything to bring her more joy than she has at the present. This, unfortunately for him, includes going full out for her favourite time of year— the first, might he add, of which they are spending together while married.

They’re her special things.

They're his special things too.

Holiday Traditions (ao3) - MoonCat457 sirius/remus T, 23k

Summary: Thirty-one winter moments over the years between Remus and Sirius.

Mistletoe (ao3) - Merchling draco/harry E, 3k

Summary: Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco is invited to spend Christmas at the Burrow with Harry and the Weasleys, and Harry can’t seem to take his eyes off Draco.

Shooting Star (ao3) - Musyc hermione/draco G, 1k

Summary: Accidentally locked on a balcony. In winter. In Scotland. Sometimes you don’t need to see the shooting star to get your wish.

Sirius + Remus (ao3) - DemonBanisher sirius/remus T, 70k

Summary: Sirius, a holiday cynic, is spending the season alone this year with his friend away with his family. Remus, a Christmas fanatic, is looking for love. When Sirius finds the red notebook Remus has left in a bookstore, the two start writing to each other. Maybe this year, they won’t have to spend the holidays alone.

The Coldest of Days (ao3) - Anonymous draco/harry, hermione/ron E, 54k

Summary: At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart.

But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry.

That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

the oldest recipe for parsnip soup (ao3) - eyra sirius/remus M, 32k

Summary: There's something blazingly incongruous about Remus in the wintertime. He's golden: sunshine and honeybees, caramel curls and freckles like dappled sunlight. Even his clothes seem borrowed, and temporary, as if he might've just thrown on an extra layer for a moment in the knowledge that his own innate aestival nature would be quite enough to stave off the worst of the chill. Something at home in long balmy nights, and mornings when the gardens teem with life and song. Wonderfully out of place in the winter: a happy visitor to the season, an ember in the frost.

Christmastime in the Cotswolds: cold hands, crackling fires, and Remus's indefatigable quest for parsnips.

#wizardingworldlibrary #harry potter fanfiction #masterlists #christmas #christmas fluff #christmas fluff masterlist #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #regulus black #draco malfoy #harry potter #hermione granger

0 notes

janetbrown711 · 2 years ago

Text

The World is Not a Nice Place (to those of us who breathe)

Pigsy has a pretty good gig for himself: a nice little restaurant, a cute regular customer (who's name he keeps forgetting to ask), and a place to call his own. However, his life changes forever when two orphans hide out in his storage closet to hide from the police.

AKA Pigsy adopts MK and Mei as kids AU <333 This will be a whole series, so prepare for a lot of cute dadsy content and lil Mei and MK (as well as some divine intervention bc why not).

Part 1 Part 2

Ao3 Link

Pigsy was the proud owner of a little noodle shop his grandma helped him set up called “Pigsy’s Noodles'' and it was his pride and joy. He’d been running it alone for two years now after a teenage and young twenties-hood of running around, getting into fights, and getting severely traumatized with his best friend. It was his grandmother’s suggestion when Sandy threw in the towel leaving Pigsy aimless, and he couldn’t thank her enough for it.

It was different without her around, certainly not any easier, but being a local business in a city that was only being more commercialized by the second gave his place an identity and authenticity no chain restaurant could ever replicate, so business was stable.

Sure, he didn’t exactly live a life of luxury, but his studio apartment above the restaurant was all he needed. He was a pig of the simple life, according to his grandma anyways.

That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the chaos and Sandy, whom he hadn’t seen since… well.. a while, but that didn’t mean he was completely alone. He had this one regular who came in to work on his capstone for his masters and applications for doctorate programs who was kinda funny and cute and smart. Granted, he rarely ever paid his tab, but Pigsy liked listening to him ramble about the Legends of Sun Wukong, so that kind of made up for it.

If only Pigsy could ever remember to actually ask for his name.

Today was going to be a slow day, Pigsy knew that. Grey storm clouds covered the sky, giving the city an almost haunted feeling. It would probably rain soon enough too, so any hopes of foot traffic were dashed. His regular was still there, of course, but something was off with him too. He was quiet, reading something on his laptop with a worried brow, which worried Pigsy too.

“You– uh– readin’ the news?” Pigsy asked, drying a glass off with a towel to mask his concern.

“Yeah– there was a huge fire last night. You know that ancient ancestral home to the descendants of the White Horse Dragon?”

Pigsy nodded.

“It burned down, as well as an apartment complex nearby,” The regular turned his laptop around to show the chef. Pigsy got a good glance at it before cringing.

“Yeesh– is everyone okay?” He asked. The semi-stranger shook his head.

“The owners are both confirmed to have died, but no one can find their daughter, and there are at least ten dead from the apartment fire,” he turned his laptop back around.

“Dang, how old is she?” Pigsy asked, setting the glass down.

“Seven, I think.”

Goddamn.

“Hope the kid’s okay,” Pigsy looked out the window, staring at the neon glow of his sign against the dull gray sky.

He should probably close.

“Hey um– you got any more dissertation writing to do today? I’m thinkin’ about closing early” Pigsy asked.

The man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up as he did. “I don’t know if I can focus on that, but I know I can’t really go home– it reeks of smoke since I live a block down from all that.”

“O-oh, right, yeah– uhm… feel free to stay as long as you need then, I won’t close til you’re all good,” Pigsy blushed, thinking about how stupid that idea was.

The stranger gave him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“Ah, no problem– so long as you actually make a dent in that tab of yours,” Pigsy tried to tease but got something in his throat halfway through that made him cough and therefore sound like a flustered idiot.

The stranger laughed a little and went back to his laptop, while Pigsy went to clean the grill, desperate to scrape away his embarrassment.

Almost twenty eight and he was out here blushing like a piglet.

The pair were silent again for a while, except for the occasional siren or two as police drove down the street, which was hardly an unusual sound for Megapolis. However, after a bit of this, Pigsy and the customer both jumped when they heard pots and pans crash to the floor in the back.

“Was that a rat?” The man asked.

“No-! That’s ridiculous-!” Pigsy defended, his face red as a tomato. “I’ll go check it out– I swear this place is sanitary,” Pigsy quickly turned off the grill, grabbed a broom and prayed he was right.

He went back to the back of the restaurant, frowning when he saw the back door was open, though only a crack. With a sigh, he went and shut it, sure to click the lock this time and now really really praying there wasn’t a rat or any other pests.

“Anyone in here?” He called out. He wasn’t exactly shocked when there wasn’t a response, but as he got closer to the storage closet, he could swear he heard something shuffling– probably an animal like he suspected (he was usually so vigilant about the door dammit– this was so stupid). Now holding the broom like a weapon, he approached the closet door carefully and quietly, listening to more shuffling before quickly grabbing the doorknob and flinging the door open, causing two shrieks of children to ring out.

“Pleasepleaseplease dont’t hurt us-!”A little boy cried out, shielding his friend– a girl– with his arms and trembling.

Kids??? What the fuck were kids doing here???

Quickly, Pigsy flicked on the lightswitch and set the broom down.

“What’re you two doing here? This is a private business and I don’t–” Pigsy was going to lecture more but noticed the girl who was crying a lot and looked oddly familiar.

“S-sorry, Mister, w-we didn’t know– we’re sorry about the pot i-it’s just–” The boy apologized but the girl interrupted.

“I-i didn’t mean to do it, I-i was just trying to c-clean a-and– a-a-and n-n-now m-mom n’ d-dad are– a-a-are– a-and so we just– and then the cops– a-a-and–” The girl couldn’t get through her sentence before choking on her tears.

Wait a minute…

Holy shit.

“You’re the missing dragon girl, aren’t you?” Pigsy knelt down. The girl nodded her head as she hugged her knees close to her chest.

“D-don’t tell anyone, please,” The boy pleaded. “ ‘specially the cops, they’re spooky.”

Pigsy snorted. “Yeah I know that, but you can’t just hide here kiddo, people are looking for you– maybe even your family.”

“MK’s my family, I don’t have anyone else,” The girl sniffled. “A-and those guys are scary, th-their eyes are all red.”

“Red eyes? Kid, I know cops are bastards, but they don’t have–” Pigsy stopped to think for five seconds before suddenly getting very, very worried.

Demons.

“Look, I won’t tell anyone you’re here, but how’s about you move to the kitchen where I can keep a better eye on you two, okay?” He said, looking over his shoulder at the backdoor. As the kids nodded and slowly stood up, he grabbed the padlock on the high shelf and put it around the back door for extra security, before going back to the kids, who were watching nervously.

“Look uh– just keep your heads low and stay behind the bar, there should be some room for you two if I shift some boxes around,” Pigsy scratched his head and went out to the kitchen, but the kids didn’t follow him.

“Everything okay back there?” His regular asked, lowering the lid of his laptop.

“Y-yeah-! Yeah, just– um… keep studying,” He smiled nervously. The semi-stranger gave him a curious look before raising the lid and getting back to work. He quickly went back and found the kids still standing in the doorway of the storage closet looking down.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you two?” Pigsy asked softly. The girl pulled on her long black hair nervously and sniffled.

“I-i’m scared they’ll see us,” She confessed.

Pigsy immediately got on one knee and placed a hand on her and the boy– MK–’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you two, okay? You have my word.”

The kids exchanged weary glances before nodding. Pigsy gave them a weak smile before standing, reminding them to stay low before leading them out to the kitchen where they remained creeping low, but not before the regular saw them.

“Um… hi,” His customer gave a wave to MK and the girl, who froze.

“It’s okay kiddos, he’s a–” Pigsy glanced at him.

“A friend,” The man finished his sentence for him, which made Pigsy blush a little.

“Oh– hi-!” MK waved a little before getting on his knees and hiding under the bar like Pigsy instructed, which the girl shortly followed.

“Mind telling me why you have kids hiding under your bar?” The scholar teased a little.

“Ah– well uh–” he glanced down at the pair, who were having a silent conversation with hand signals he didn’t know.

“There’s some trouble stirring up right now and they needed somewhere safe to stay so I figured why not keep ‘em in my line of sight, you know?” He shrugged at the half-truth.

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you,” The man said with a smile, going back to his laptop so he didn’t notice Pigsy’s face turning dark red once more before he turned around and got back to cleaning.

After a while of casual silence, Pigsy heard the bell ring and muttered to himself when he heard them say “Megapolis Police, we’re here looking for a little girl, Mei Dragon. She’s long black hair and was last seen in a green jacket with white shorts and sneakers.”

“You see any kids here?” Pigsy scoffed as he scraped off the fond from a pot.

“Look here, wise guy, we’re gonna search this place whether you like it or not,” One of them snarled, but Pigsy just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, setting the pot down to dry while picking up an iron skillet. One of the cops– a slightly smaller but still plenty muscular one– eyed him.

“This’ll be quick anyways,” The officer said.

“Better be, or else you’re gonna scare off my customers,” He crossed his arms and stood in front of the cupboard where the kids were hiding. He glanced at his regular, who seemed just as annoyed at the presence of police as he was.

The officers huffed and began snooping around, looking under tables and in the bathrooms, getting huffier the more and more they didn’t find the girl– Mei.

Man, Pigsy was really bad about asking for names.

When the cops went to the back, Pigsy heard the girl start crying again. Pigsy bit his cheek before crouching down again and asking what the matter was.

"S-sorry, Mr. Piggy, I-I don't know why– I-i just keep–"

"Hey, it's okay kid, you just gotta be quiet for a little bit longer and then the scary guys will leave and we can find you somewhere a lot safer to be, okay?"

The girl rubbed her eyes with her jacket sleeve and nodded, which was when Pigsy noticed her eyes were glowing emerald green.

So uh… that was interesting.

"Does she normally…?" He turned to MK who nodded.

Alrighty then.

“Hey– there’s the dragon brat-!” One of the cops shouted from the doorway to the back.

Shit.

“Yeah well if you want her, you’re gonna have to go through me,” Pigsy huffed, gripping the pan and going into a fighting stance. Just like that, the cops shed their skins to reveal they were actually just a massive tiger and the larger one leapt towards Pigsy, who knocked him as hard as he could in the jaw with the skillet, sending him into the grill.

“Woah-!” The girl watched in awe, bringing Pigsy way back.

“Oh my stars– Are you okay-?!” The regular closed his laptop and shoved it into his bag frantically.

“You good at running?” Pigsy asked as the smaller one jumped to attack, but he whacked them away too.

“Can be under pressure-!” The man quickly slid his bag around his shoulder.

“Great– take the kids and run,” Pigsy said, taking MK’s arm and pulling him out of the hiding spot before placing him on top of the bar, then doing the same with Mei.

“Right uh– Let’s get going then-!” He said, helping the kids jump down as the bigger tiger demon got up and tried jumping towards Mei, but Pigsy got a hold of his neck and was able to hold him back and thankfully the kids and sexy customer were able to get out. However, he must not have hit the second guy hard enough because he was back and instantly tackled Pigsy to the ground and gave him a nasty gash in his shoulder with his claw, tearing through his chef’s shirt. Pigsy was able to kick the guy off of him, and when he saw the bigger guy was making a run for it, he grabbed the nearest bottle of rice vinegar and threw it at him, which shattered against his head on impact.

“Ha-! Take that ya bastard-!” Pigsy was pleasantly surprised his aim was still good, especially with his arm stinging severely from the previously mentioned gash.

“Alright, piggy, you wanna do this?” The tiger turned away from the entrance.

Ah, fuck– Where’s Sandy when you need him?

He hit the smaller in the face with the skillet again, before having to duck to avoid the bigger one leaping at him once again. Thankfully, his size and strength failed him when he overestimated how much power to put into that and he went crashing straight through the wall (which was not good for Pigsy’s bills, but priorities).

Jiangjun– we need the dragon, not the bacon,” The smaller tiger growled and stood.

“You were the ones pretending to be cops,” Pigsy growled and leaned against the bar, trying not to wince in pain.

“This is a mercy, Pig Man,” The big demon got up and snarled. “You can’t kill us, but we can kill you.”

Before Pigsy could protest again, the tigers bolted out of the restaurant, and Pigsy scrambled to keep up.

The street quickly turned into a mad panic as people bolted out of the way of the tiger demons, which was kind of good because there was a clear path for Pigsy to follow. Did he have a plan? No. Did his arm hurt with every attempt at running? Yes. Did he even know why he was sticking his neck this far out for these kids? Kind of– He wasn’t heartless– if kids are in danger he’ll protect them, that’s how normal people responded.

He also hoped his regular was okay– if they lived he was going to make sure he asked for his name.

When he caught sight of the trio, they were dashing around a corner, and the demons quickly followed. Pigsy was starting to fall behind and so said a quick prayer to whatever and picked up the pace, mortified when he turned that corner and found they got themselves backed into an alley.

“Nowhere to run, Little Dragon,” The bigger tiger licked his lips and got on all fours. Pigsy scrambled for something to grab, but the smaller tiger pounced on him and that quickly became a struggle of its own.

“Mr. Piggy!” Mei cried out, her eyes still glowing but flickering to a wine red. She balled her little hands into fists and stepped away from MK, who was forced to let go of her arm and so grabbed onto the man.

“Get away from him!” She shouted, and a rush of hot air flooded the alleyway, causing the tiger to stop fighting Pigsy, though he still had him pinned and with claws at his throat.

“B-boss, you said she was too young,” The small one said.

The bigger one growled, “She’s supposed to be, but something’s… different.”

“I saidget away!” She screamed, and Pigsy couldn’t believe his eyes– she was suddenly surrounded by an aura in the shape of a very, very large Jade Dragon, who’s eyes stared menacingly down at the two tiger demons. There was something else too– sparks of that red from before, but whatever that was it was clearly restrained, despite her anger.

“C-c’mon boss, let’s get out of here,” The small tiger let go of Pigsy and scrambled away. The larger remained, staring down the beast until it opened its massive jaws as if to spit fire or water, and then he ran.

“Wow-! That was so cool Mei-!” Her best friend cheered for her while Pigsy forced himself to stand.

“Yeah, not too bad– kid-!” In the middle of Pigsy’s compliment, all of the glow faded from Mei’s eyes and she passed out, thankfully caught by the regular.

“We should get you– you two– to a hospital,” The man said, his face going pale at Pigsy’s appearance.

“What? I’m not that roughed up,” Pigsy denied, despite feeling so dizzy from blood loss he had to rest a hand against the wall of the alley.

“C’mon, I’ll call a cab,” The man rolled his eyes playfully before calling the car and then they were off.

.o0o.

Once they were at the hospital, things quickly got awkward as it became more and more apparent to the staff that they had no relation to Mei and didn’t know any of her medical information. Thankfully her situation was a lot less serious and she was awake and had perfectly fine vitals in just a few minutes, whereas Pigsy had to get stitches and a blood transfusion, and was put under observation for a while.

The observation period was boring, of course, and it had him wondering just what the hell he was doing with his life. He didn’t know these kids– he didn’t even know that customer’s name– why was he out here destroying his very livelihood and fighting for them like they’re his own kids?

“Are you doing alright there? You're almost done” The nurse, “Ming-Hoa” according to his lotus-shaped name tag, suddenly spoke up. Pigsy blinked and shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, just… thoughts,” He shrugged.

“Getting into life threatening situations often does that to a person,” The nurse laughed a little, checking all of the monitors and writing something down on his clipboard. “What you did was very brave. That girl could very easily be dead, her family is indebted to you.”

Pigsy sighed and closed his eyes. “That’s the problem– the kid doesn’t have a family.”

The nurse nodded a little. “Well… I’m sure they’re happy wherever they are.”

“What’s– uh–” Pigsy looked down at his hands. “What’s going to happen to the kid now?”

The nurse had a small smile on his face. “Well, custody of her will be decided by her parent’s will and the boy will undergo a similar process, though if there’s no will, he’ll be placed into foster care.”

“Wait– him too?” Pigsy tried to sit up.

“Oh, you didn’t know? He was also orphaned in the fire the other night, though he was in the apartment buildings.”

“But they can’t split those two up, they’re practically siblings– joined at the hip and apparently all they have." An expression of sad realization washed over the chef's face.

"Yes, yes, but unfortunately that is how it goes unless the person taking in the girl was willing to take the boy too," Ming-Hoa explained.

"How could anyone not? I know I sure would," Pigsy huffed as the nurse checked the monitors once more and started unhooking all of the devices.

"Well that's what we like to hear," He said as he took off the heart monitor from Pigsy.

"Sure..?" Pigsy raised an eyebrow as he stretched. The nurse continued to type something into his computer as Pigsy stood and gathered his things, which was really just his torn up chef’s shirt.

“The Dragon Family Lawyer will meet you just outside to discuss a few things, Mr. Zhu,” He said. Why exactly the nurse knew about Mei’s lawyer when he wasn't even her nurse was something Pigsy didn’t have the energy to question.

“Uh… thanks,” He nodded, throwing on the torn shirt over his white tank top and bandages before heading out to the waiting area, which was strangely cleared out except for Mei, MK, his customer, and a woman wearing a white pantsuit and high heels with lotuses on them– the lawyer, most likely.

“Ah, Mr. Zhu, I’m Gatita, the lawyer for the Dragon Family Estate,” The woman stood, but before he could go to shake her hand, Mei jumped from her seat and gave Pigsy a hug.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Mr. Piggy,” She apologized profusely.

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re okay kiddo,” Pigsy patted her back before she let go and joined MK back by the bead maze.

“I’m glad to see Miss Mei likes you already,” The woman smiled fondly before going once more to shake Pigsy’s hand, which he did before taking his seat next to the regular.

“So… what exactly do you need to talk to me about?” Pigsy asked.

The lawyer reached into her bag and pulled out a large manilla folder. “Well, there was a peculiarity in Mr. and Mrs. Dragon’s last will and testament, which says that if no one remains of her immediate family, then it would be up to The Dragon King of the East, and it appears he has chosen you,” she said, pulling out the document that stated just that.

Pigsy blinked.

“Mr. Zhu?”

“S-sorry there, i just– what???” Pigsy shook his head. “I-i’ve never met any Dragon King and I know damn– dang well that I am not better for her than any king in an actual castle would be.”

“Well, mystical beings often have their ways of looking around. Plus, Mei is merely a descendant of Ao Lie, she’s not as draconic as her great uncle and his family. It would be better for her to be raised in a more humanoid environment,” Gatita said, pointing to a specific paragraph of the paper Pigsy still couldn’t hope to read.

“You know I ain’t exactly human myself, right?” Pigsy snorted.

“I suppose you truly haven’t spent any time with dragons then,” The lawyer laughed to herself like Pigsy didn’t literally just say that.

“Well, either way, you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have my number for any emergencies, and plus your husband here will be of great help,” She smiled at the man next to Pigsy and both of their faces turned red.

“Woah– wait now– we’re– I’m not–” The man protested.

“Oh! My apologies, I just assumed because both of you were present– it doesn’t matter. Custody would primarily be given to Pigsy for both the boy and the girl–”

“Both of them? I didn’t think you were in charge of both of them,” Pigsy sat back in his seat, his head beginning to spin.

“Are you suggesting you’d want to split the two up?” The woman frowned a little, glancing back at the two seven-year-olds.

“N-no! I just–” Pigsy rubbed his forehead. “It’s… a lot. I’m not exactly rolling in money here and I just–”

“There is a sum of money set aside for Mei and the boy’s childcare, as well as Mei’s inheritance, but that won’t be available until she is eighteen for safekeeping, and as far the academy goes, her and the boys admission has been paid in full for the next eleven years already so that’s not a concern either,” She said, pulling out more documents and Pigsy was still not going to read any one of them– though it didn’t matter because it seemed like his customer was doing it for him (probably because he actually understood them because he was smart and stuff).

“I understand it’s a lot, Mr. Zhu, and if you truly feel uncomfortable, you can turn the offer down. However, if you do, they will without a doubt be separated and live very, very different lives,” The lawyer said with an earnestness the chef didn’t expect.

Pigsy glanced back at the kids, seeing how happy they were in each other's company, and then thinking back to how fiercely they protected each other and– hell, even him.

He’d have to be heartless to tear that apart.

“I… I’ll take them,” Pigsy said.

“Are you certain?” Gatita asked seriously. Pigsy nodded.

“I am.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” She smiled, taking out a pen from her bag and handing it over to the chef.

“Wait, that’s it? No evaluation, no checking bank accounts or backgrounds or anything?” Pigsy took the pen nervously.

Gatita laughed. “We did all of that beforehand; you’re all clear Mr. Zhu.”

Pigsy blinked again. He glanced at the man to his left.

“I’m no lawyer, but everything looks legit and–... and I can help a bit too, if you’d want that– like around the restaurant and stuff,” His customer said, his hands pulling on his scarf nervously.

Pigsy smiled a bit, probably like an idiot, before glancing at the lawyer and covering his mouth and mouthing “I don’t even know your name.”

His customer laughed a little before copying his motion and mouthing, “it’s Tang.”

Tang.

It was perfect for him.

“Right,” He smiled more, lowering his hand and turning back to the documents.

He had no idea what it took to raise a kid– let alone two.

Then again, he’d have to be an idiot to turn down what was probably a small fortune.

But he shouldn’t just be doing this for money.

And he wasn’t– he cared about those kids and couldn’t imagine forgiving himself for separating them.

Plus it was technically her family’s wants, and who was he to say he knew better than literal celestial dragons?

With a breath, Pigsy gripped the pen tighter and signed his name across every dashed line Gatita pointed to, and then it was official.

Pigsy just adopted two kids he barely knew, one who was a descendant of a literal dragon.

He hoped he had even a clue of what he just got himself into.

#my fics #lmk #lego monkie kid #pigsy #dadsy #freenoodles #spoiler free #mei lmk #mk lmk #mei dragon #adoption #whoops guess I'm a dad now #uhhhh #idk how to else to tag this thing #fjdakls;fjdaksl #it's cute stuff #so uh #read it #<333

56 notes · View notes

slytherhys · 3 years ago

Text

Beautiful Boy

AO3

Prompt: Nyx's first birthday party.

A/N: I tried to write some feysandnyx x ic fluff but I'm not sure I like this

Early spring in Velaris was a sight to see. The days were still cold, the nights colder still, but the sun already shone bright in the sky, clearly lifting the spirits of the people. The entire city was still cleaning up after Starfall a few days earlier, but flowers already bloomed in front of the shops and marble and red stone townhouses, the Sira river already returning to its deep sapphire sparkle as it flowed through the city. People greeted Feyre as she crossed the bridge from the Rainbow to her house, where the party had already begun.

The great manor greeted her as she reached the end of the bridge, the marble façade covered in beautiful, lush ivy as well as a few different blossoming flowers that covered her front garden – all Elain’s doing, of course. Opening the front door, Feyre was immediately greeted by the warmth of her home as well as the accompanying sound of laughter and chatter coming from the sitting room. Her friends were already there, sitting and standing around the fireplace as soft music played in the background, but the laughter of her baby boy was the only thing she could focus on.

Nyx was in Cassian’s lap, being repeatedly thrown in the air. His little wings would flex for 2 seconds before he fell again into the awaiting hands of his uncle, who watched him with a proud glint in his eyes. Nesta was smiling as she watched them both, scolding Cassian whenever Nyx reached too high. Azriel stood by the wooden table as he watched Elain sort all the presents, a soft smile on his lips as she got more and more flustered at the ridiculous amount of gifts Nyx had received for his first birthday. Feyre felt her heart warm at the sight of her family.

“There you are,” she heard him before she felt his arms wrap around her waist. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Feyre turned swiftly, her hands immediately cupping Rhys’ face as she rose to her toes and kissed him softly. Twice, just because.

Rhys grinned. “Did you get it?” She nodded and held up the paper bag in her hand, unable to keep her own grin out of her face.

They had gone to the Rainbow a few weeks earlier to a small shop just a few blocks away from Feyre’s painting studio to buy Nyx a custom gift. Ressina had been the one to speak about it, having known the owner, and knowing Nyx was about to turn one. They had already bought a series of presents for their boy, but this one just felt…right.

Feyre groaned, dropping her head against Rhys’ chest. “We’re going to spoil him rotten.”

Rhys chuckled. “It’s nothing he doesn’t deserve.” He said, turning Feyre around so she could see how Nyx now crawled around the floor, still too scared to stand for long periods of time. Feyre pulled away, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. She was feeling entirely too emotional. Today was for happiness and celebration, no one needed her crying over gifts and cake.

Rhys pulled her in again, kissing her softly. “We’re okay.” He said gently, a promise between the two. Feyre nodded once, finding comfort in his presence. A day didn’t go by that Rhys didn’t promise her the exact same thing. She couldn’t be more grateful for it.

She gently settled the paper bag at a little side table, saving Elain from yet another colourful package to sort. Az was trying to coax her away from the mess, since there was really no need to do such a thing, but Elain kept glaring at him whenever he grabbed her hand. Feyre pressed her lips together to fight a laugh– there was something amusing about the shadowsinger bending to another’s will.

“Thank you for coming.” Feyre said as she reached the back of the couch, pulling both Cassian and Nesta for a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Nesta replied softly, her eyes on Nyx as she squeezed Feyre’s hand once before letting it go. Feyre felt her lip turn up at the small display of affection. They still had a long way to go but having Nesta by her side as she raised Nyx was a gift she would forever appreciate. Having both her sisters after everything that happened last year gave Feyre a sense of comfort, one she didn’t even realize she had been missing all her life.

Rhys swept Nyx to his arms, taking him to the overflowing table as he kicked out Elain and Azriel back to the couch.

Cassian watched Nyx over the table, his little arms flapping around as he tried to reach for his presents. “I can’t believe the amount of shit people sent.” He snorted, yelping when Nesta slapped his hand, chiding him for his foul mouth. He looked chagrined before his face turned into something else. Feyre quickly looked away.

“He doesn’t need all this stuff, it’s ridiculous.” Feyre sighed, sitting on the armchair by the fireplace.

“It’s a good sign, love.” Rhys said as he made his way back towards her, sitting on the arm of the chair. “Helion, it appears, has sent at least 4 different gifts. Tarquin and Kallias also seemed to spare no expenses. I’d say our little man is quite popular.” He said, blowing a raspberry on Nyx’ cheek, making him chuckle loudly, squirming away from his dad. His chubby little arms reached for Feyre instead, who didn’t even hesitate before grabbing him. Rhys had a look of feigned outrage on his face, muttering a small traitor before he leaned back, his face pure adoration as he watched them both.

“Well, at least you guys didn’t get him anything.” Feyre sighed, her hands holding Nyx as he played with her necklace. However, when her statement was only met with silence, she looked. Why wasn’t anyone agreeing with her? “You didn’t get him anything.” She was a bit alarmed now. “Right?”

They had agreed there would be no gifts for Nyx. Rhys and Feyre had only wanted a small celebration between their family with dinner and cake, maybe a few drinks after Nyx had fallen asleep. Small, yet meaningful.

But as everyone in that room avoided her gaze, she knew they had all ignored her request. Big time. “Cass?” She called, making the male flinch. He reluctantly looked over at her and Rhys who, much to Feyre’s annoyance, was watching the entire interaction with entirely too much amusement.

“I wasn’t going to get him anything, I swear. But then I just saw the perfect gift and I couldn’t help myself. And then-”

“He got him a onesie that says uncle’s nº1 babybat.” Nesta deadpanned, her face neutral even if she was trying to fight a smile. Cassian frowned at her. “And a baby winger, whatever that is.” She added, a smirk on her lips.

“Wait, you got him the baby winger set?” Azriel’s low voice interrupted Cassian’s mumbles. “I told you I was buying him that.” Az crossed his arms, looking as intimidating as he intended. Elain simply rolled her eyes as she reached for a glass of wine.

“It’s fine, we also bought that-” She started, stopping when her eyes found Feyre’s with an apologist smile.

“Elain.” Azriel snapped. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“For whom?” Nesta raised an eyebrow, nodding her head towards Nyx who was now drooling all over Feyre’s necklace. Feyre gently removed it from his mouth, reaching for the bat plushie Mor had offered him last year so he could play with that instead.

“Wait a minute,” Rhys said, a furrow to his brow. “Why are you guys offering my son a baby winger?” Cassian fully grinned while Azriel had the decency to look a bit sheepish. Feyre wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about, but Rhys didn’t seem fond of the idea.

“By the Cauldron.” Feyre muttered. “What is a baby winger?” She asked the three Illyrian babies fighting over presents. They all looked at her like she was insane. Was she missing something? Elain was fighting a smirk, but Nesta seemed as lost as she was.

“It’s only the best thing you can have to teach your son how to fly.” Cassian leaned forward, an excited gleam in his eyes. He looked like a kid on Solstice. “This one even comes with a security system so that he gets to ground safely.”

“You’re not teaching my son how to fly, Cassian.” Rhys rumbled, before looking at Azriel with a raised brow. “And neither are you.”

Both men started complaining as soon as the words were out of her mate’s mouth, Nyx becoming immediately enthralled by their loud voices going back and forth. She was just about to scold them when both Cass and Az went still at the exact same time. Feyre looked at Rhys, knowing he was telling them something through their minds – something that made both warriors pause, blushing furiously. Cassian started coughing, muttering something about water under his breath before leaving the room to the kitchen. Feyre raised an eyebrow at her mate, who was already smiling devilishly at her. She’d have to ask about that later.

“Where’s Mor?” Elain asked. “Isn’t she coming?”

Rhys frowned. “I think-”

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Mor’s soft voice sounded through the sitting room followed by the sound of the entrance door being closed. She appeared as swiftly as one could be, as if summoned by Elain. Wearing a long jacket over her usual casual attire and…carrying a giant bat plushie with a purple bow on its neck.

Feyre could only stare at her best friend, her mouth hanging open. Rhys was already rubbing his eyes and groaning about headaches. Nyx, however, seemed delighted by Mor’s gift.

“I said no gifts.” Feyre groaned, throwing her head back as she watched Mor set her gigantic gift on the floor before stealing Nyx from her arms. She couldn’t exactly say it bothered her how loved her son was among his family, but this was too much. It had to be too much. Right?

She wanted to give him everything she never had growing up, but she didn’t want to overcompensate. She knew Rhys would be careful too, even if he had to be reminded to pace himself. Frequently.

Rhys grabbed Feyre by the waist, sitting under her with such ease she didn’t even notice until she was already sitting on his lap, his lips pressing against her temple.

It’s his first birthday, love. Rhys’ soft timbre sounded inside her mind, startling her slightly. He held out his hand and Feyre happily intertwined her fingers with his. Let him be loved by his family.

He won’t even care for most of these things, Feyre said, watching as Nyx threw himself towards Mor’s gift, bouncing back and giggling as he fell on his butt.

And when the time comes, we’ll teach him to care for all things. Rhys pressed his lips against her hand. You’re his mom, Feyre. There’s not a single thing in this world that could make him anything other than kind and caring.

Feyre looked back at him; her vision blurry as she looked at the man she loved. It wasn’t a secret Rhys adored her, but most days he still couldn’t fully understand the type of man that he was. The amazing, loving father he was to Nyx. “There’s no doubt in my mind, Rhys, that he will be gentle and selfless. He’s half of the man who saved me and loved me on my darkest days. How could he be anything less?” She spoke softly, for these were words he needed to hear – the man who had given himself to protect the people he loved; the man who had saved her, over and over again and had wanted nothing in return. No, she didn’t need to be worried, not when Nyx was surrounded by the incredible people she had the pleasure to call family.

He was going to be okay.

“You think this is a bad time to tell them we also got him a toy dagger?” Cassian asked Azriel.

…

Their bedroom was glowing with the light of the night sky, glowing stars held by magic as they swirled softly around the room. Every once in a while, the shape of a little boy would fly by, followed by his parents as their twirled with the stars. It was like living inside a dream, one where things were simple and calm and only love mattered.

It had been a good gift, Feyre concluded once she saw how Nyx’s eyes followed the boy with wonder and curiosity.

Rhysand was sprawled on their bed, his hair longer and curlier than usual, a lazy smile on his lips as he read a book to Nyx – a tale about Nephelle, gifted to him by Elain and Azriel. The baby eyed both his dad and the stars surrounding him with adoring amazement, fighting hard not fall fast asleep.

Feyre felt herself settle, a smile on her lips as she watched the men of her life read a tiny book. Had it really been a year since her baby boy had been born? She simply couldn’t wrap her head around it. How they had gone from frantic nights and painful recoveries to gentle smiles and peaceful living. Just a year ago everything seemed so fragile, and now Nyx was starting to flex his wings, walking all around the house as he tried to follow his dad around, his little legs clumsy even when Rhys slowed down his pace.

Time had gone by too fast.

Everyone had left moments ago, just a few hours after dinner. They were all chatting over drinks when the baby monitor came alive, and Nyx’s cries filled the living room. Everyone had taken that as their sign to retreat back to their own homes, leaving with tipsy smiles and happy memories. Feyre had been retreating every single toy to Nyx’s room while Rhys tried to put the baby back to sleep – to no avail, apparently.

Rhys looked up, smiling as he spotted Feyre making her way to bed. “Did you enjoy the day, love?” Rhys asked in a soft voice, his large hand holding Nyx close to his chest as the baby sucked on his pacified, his little head resting against his dad’s chest. Feyre kissed his soft cheek, making him smile as he fought to keep his eyes open. She lied on her side, settling against Rhys as she played with Nyx’s dark hair. She couldn’t help but smile at the picture they painted – both sleepy, a lazy smile on their lips as they stared at her. She would paint it tomorrow and hang it someplace where she could see it every day for the rest of her life.

“He’s okay.” Feyre whispered, watching as Nyx finally succumbed to sleep. Understanding flashed through Rhys’ face. He smiled at her, his hand softly stroking Nyx’s back.

“He’s okay.” His voice was soft. “We’re all okay, love.”

#pro feysand #domestic feysand #feysand fic #feyre archeron #rhys x nyx #pro rhysand #rhys acotar #rhys x feyre #high lord rhysand #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #feysand fluff

74 notes · View notes

tootiredmotel · 4 years ago

Text

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

353 notes · View notes

lvnatiq · 4 years ago

Text

Modern!au Felix Escellun x tattoo artist!gn!reader | Headcanons

a/n: Hey!!! I’m back at it again with my beautifully fucked up request fill. I’m still working on three other things, while I make you wait I took it upon myself to not starve this fandom. So here you have it. Please reblog or comment so that I have a crumb of motivation to keep up.

Should I do a smutty pt. 2 ? Who knows lmao.

Your hand slipped through the pile of designs that your colleague (and your close friend) had sent you to choose and pick apart from.

Unfortunately you were spending the night at the beautiful library of your uni, trying to balance off your school work with your actual work.

You didn’t mind spending your time under the faint scent of books and the mere sound of wood beneath you feet, but what you ‘do’ mind is the fact that the library is way colder than you thought it would be after the midnight.

Good thing that the yearning for finishing your work and leaving as soon as possible made it easier to concentrate on the task at hand.

It also made it easier for you to not notice the presence of an unexpected company.

That was until you felt the warm floral yet musky scent invade your senses as you felt the weight of cotton drape around your shoulders.

You slowly turn your head towards the owner of the coat who’s already making their way out. Desperately trying to find a way to make them stop but failing to raise your voice because of the circumstances.

The last picture of the person buried in your head was their hair caressed by the wind and their quick steps.

Fast forward to a week later, going completely out of luck with finding a place to stay you decide to ask help from your friend whom interestingly has a lot to offer.

With things going a lot smoother than you expected you stopped by the tattoo shop to finish your appointments with couple of customers before you left to meet up with your possible candidate.

“Don’t bother I’ll just call him here so you could talk comfortably.”

Your work seemed to take a lot longer than usual. So you kindly accepted your friends offer as you wrapped up the leftover stuff, finishing up the last customer.

“Hey, oh-“

The sight of your guest tickled your memories as you kept glaring at the glorious figure in front of you.

Felix, completely avoiding eye contact, placed the fallen hair strand behind his ear as he kept his eyes on the table of the tattoo equipments.

You quickly got up as you grabbed his coat from the hanger and walked back where you left him.

“Thank you for the coat, you really saved me back there.”

“Oh- no problem.”

That day you two chatted and melted the ice in between. Deciding to rent the close by apartment and start your roommate era.

Your friend smiled to themselves knowing all too well that felix was completely crazy about you.

Your encounter at the library wasn’t a coincidence either, well don’t think of him as a stalker now, he just dumped a couple of coins in the fountain wishing that you would be there that night. That’s all.

As you two moved in together you realized that there were a lot of things to be ‘caught off guard’ about him but you were most baffled by the tremendous amount of books felix owned.

“Hey Lover boy ! Would you mind recommending me some of them ?”

Felix blushes terribly and you love it so much that you constantly bother him in order to catch a glimpse of his flustered state.

Unbeknownst to you, the pile that felix left on the doorstep of your room was consisted of the books that he thought of you as he read.

Felix, abandoning his night owl habit, decided to fix his sleeping schedule for the better. Definitely not because he wanted to see you at morning before you got off to the work.

Insisting on offering you a ride on your way back home with his nice car.

Nearly every single day.

He knows that it may annoy you but he knows how much you are devoted to your responsibilities so he at least wants for you to save a bit of energy before you dive into the work.

Speaking of his nice car, it tickled your curiosity so you decided to check the price tag on the web and... well...

“Felix... you don’t so some sketchy illegal shit for a living right ?”

“It’s nearly impossible for me to work at the moment because of my studies. Why did you ask ?”

“Your car costs more than the apartment we are living in right now.”

With that, you discover that Felix’s father owns one of the most prominent chains of pharmaceutical companies and that he basically flee from his fathers mansion because he was pressuring Felix to take over his position in the future.

Being his puppet was not a thing to be tolerated in Felix’s book.

That being said, your domestic life with felix was pretty soft to say the least.

Cleaning together, cooking while talking about how your day went or getting to enjoy his expressions while he spilled his frustration against authors that didn’t affect him well.

Occasionally noticing the new cooking books appearing out of nowhere

and the delicious smell of food welcoming you after work, quite often than you expect.

Finally, more skinship.

One day whilst you two got through the gates of your apartment block you noticed the open doors of the elevator so instinctively you held Felix by the hand and ran into the mirrored box.

What you didn’t notice was the fact that you didn’t let go of his hand as you two went up.

From that day on Felix used every single opportunity to sneak his hand into yours.

Don’t blame him, it’s just that your hands are warm and the feeling of security that radiates from your fingertips is his medicine.

You absolutely avoided to tease or point it out to him because you knew that he would never do it again so you went with the flow.

You really enjoyed it though.

Snaking your arms around his waist while he is organizing the bookshelf. Feeling him shutter into your arms.

Nights became more and more enjoyable once he started to accompany you.

Everytime you caught him slacking on the sofa, you used his lap as a pillow.

Felix is extremely easy to figure out, mainly because he can’t hide anything.

Also, well

He is ticklish and you use his weakness against him, a lot.

Diving your fingers down to the sides of his tummy you started to tickle every possible sensitive spot you could catch on.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I wan’t you to- give me my first tattoo.”

Telling his words apart from his adorable giggles, needless to say you were ecstatic.

“Alright. What do I get in return ?”

“Name your price.”

You thoughtfully stared at the ceiling, humming as you blurted out your very obviously well thought out response.

“I want you to show me what keeps you up all night.”

You can’t be serious.

If you asked for an organ, he would’ve been more compliant.

You didn’t know what you got yourself into.

You basically asked for him to show you his ‘masterpieces’ that he showcases on AO3. Something that you were already well aware of.

“Deal ?”

“No !”

“Good ! Let’s see what you got.”

Felix anonymously contributed to the community by writing some of the most famous slow-burn stories on the web.

Just so you know, his author persona blew up thanks to the mind blowing, earth shattering smuts he wrote.

Yeah you heard that right

Smuts

Well he is fucking panicking now.

Nonetheless days kept on going as felix prayed each night to every single deity that you forgot your ‘deal’.

The days go on even if his worries don’t.

Did I say that Felix is a whimpering, whiny mess ? he struggles to stay in one position as the needle drags upon his skin.

“If you plan to keep on moving, I might as well strap you down felix. 5 more minutes and then we are done. Please behave.”

When you put it like that how can he refuse I mean you made things worse he is internally screaming at what you just said but he is not going to refuse a command when it’s given by you.

In exchange for giving him a tattoo you decide to let him give you one even though he’s inexperienced.

He’s terrified because he thinks that something would go wrong, his hand would slip or something and he would scratch that pretty skin of yours with a horrendous tattoo.

But you assured him nevertheless and offered him to draw something very minimal and easy. He accepted eventually.

As it turns out Felix is a natural. His hand is extremely steady and the tattoo turns out great.

Throughout the process he’s constantly asking if you’re hurt because he thinks that he’s doing something wrong but in fact he’s very delicate and gentle with the strokes and his touch.

You decide to be evil and use it against him. After you touch up your tattoo you lean in very closely and turn your cheek towards him.

“What are you doing ?” He stutters.

“I can’t possibly ask you to kiss my freshly made tattoo, so won’t you give me a kiss so that it heals faster.”

If his hands were steady before they weren’t now.

As soon as his lips left your cheek you held him by his wrist and pull him back close again so that you can lean in onto his ear.

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten our deal. I am excited to see what you have in store for me tonight.” You winked.

Then the worst thing happened

The “tonight” came.

Felix was running in circles around the living room with one hand on his forehead wondering what could get worse after this.

Maybe you’ll be disgusted or scared hell if he knows.

He wanted to do nothing to harm your relationship in anyway because you and what you two have is all he ever wanted.

...and he believes that he has a tendency to ruin things.

But what happened was beyond his expectations.

Your eyes followed every single sentence throughout the screen, the white light traced your expressions as your eyebrows raised up and down and the corners of your lips inched closer to your ears. Your lower lip became a victim of your teeth’s assault.

He was so confused. Still waiting for you to lash out or make fun of him, at least.

“I used to think ‘what am I gonna do with you’ when it comes to you. Mostly out of frustration.”

Yet here you were with the laptop closed shut and your arms behind your head as you closed your eyes and groaned.

Slowly the smile plastered on your face grew.

”Now I know what to with you.”

#felix escellun #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #felix fictif #nyx hydra #fictif #mc

90 notes · View notes

snarglepop-content · 3 years ago

Text

MASTERPOST - Literally Everything I Have Written

You probably know me from AO3, in which case, hi! Here's my fics:

All the Things Left Unsaid - Pokemon SV - (WIP) - This is my Julinems fic

Every day, she thinks of a million things, but she never really knows when to say these things. Bubbly, little Juliana, eager to meet new people and Pokémon, never knows what to say. She says a million other things, except those which she badly needs to express. She wants to comfort Arven, she wants to cheer up Penny. She wants to tell Nemona how much she appreciates her, and how she feels about her. She's still learning. There's always next time.

woefully cataclysmic - Wednesday (2022) - (WIP) - Wenclair

"You are expecting me to prance around in a silly, bright red costume and 'save the day'? I would rather drink battery acid." Tikki sighed, munching on her cookie. "The Addams family has been steeped in positive energy for centuries! Believe it or not, you would be the best holder for the Ladybug Miraculous in over a hundred years." Wednesday just eyed her sleeping werewolf roommate, currently clad in brightly colored pajamas. "Are you absolutely certain that there is no other choice?"

A black-clad figure landed beside her, flashing her a cheery grin. "Howdy, partner!" she greeted, waving enthusiastically. "You should be more careful, you know?" Wednesday—Misfortune—stared blankly at her before putting her head in her hands. "Enid, please tell me this is just a new Poe Cup costume and not the Cat Miraculous."

Passion Project - Wednesday (2022) - (Complete) - Wenclair <33

For as long as Enid could remember, her hands were never still. Maybe it was nervous energy, maybe it was the wolf sitting restless inside her. She put those hands to work, always trying new hobbies and creating new crafts, but nothing seemed to stick, except perhaps expressing herself on her blog. But since her gloomy roommate moved in, an untapped well of inspiration seemed to have opened up. Maybe her new projects had been following a certain theme, but Enid certainly hasn't noticed...

Writer's Block - Wednesday (2022) - (Complete) - oh no it's Wenclair again <//33

Words came easily to Wednesday Addams. She wove words and paragraphs into a macabre tapestry. She spoke her mind freely, forming barbs and stings from the sentences that she deemed worthy to express. Whatever her mind supplied, she could always find a way to express them in prose. So, damn it all, why did all her words lead to Enid Sinclair?

Counterpart to Passion Project. Can be read as a standalone.

inadequacies - Miraculous Ladybug - (Complete) Ladrien moment

two different nights, Adrien finds Ladybug in his bedroom. a beginning and a half truth, with a sprinkling of self-doubt and reassurance.

---

Original Fiction

Know That I Know - The novel I have been planning for quite some time, with supporting oneshots written below

cottoncandy - Piper and Monique on their second date; Piper reassures Monique that he wants to stay with her

caramelpopcorn - Piper and Monique watch Princess Diaries at 2 A.M.

cinnamonroll - Felix and Madeleine as they get together, then drift apart after one stormy night

cremebrulee - Piper and Monique on their first date; someone was very inspired by Amélie

chocolatechipcookies - Charlie has an experience with Anne that is too good to be true

cheesecake - two things are on your mind as a bakery owner: baking a cheesecake and your pretty cashier

chewinggum - Anne's story on being chewed up and tossed aside

cappuccino - Anne and Charlie, take two; two people addicted to drinks

cosmopolitan/charlotte - Charlie's sister catches up with Anne and Felix

#masterpost #know that i know #writing #art but my art #fanfic

4 notes · View notes

keilemlucent · 5 years ago

Text

lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

||||||||||||||||||

You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day.

It was hardly dawn.

Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did.

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you.

When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move.

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

“On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink.

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

Keigo was a bit stunned by you.

You were cute, one.

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter.

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work.

You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside.

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk.

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments.

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop.

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him.

Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you.

“You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost.

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself.

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted.

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored.

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body.

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe.

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider.

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin.

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw.

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you.

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could.

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time.

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you.

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?”

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying.

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again.

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands.

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold.

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this.

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten. He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings.

#salem writes #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #reader insert #mha x reader #my hero x reader #mha smut #hawks reader insert #my hero academia #bnha x reader #takami x reader #mha lemon

984 notes · View notes