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griefabyss69 · 1 year ago

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Ample Fire Within

Hello everybody I hurt my feelings about Steve and so I've decided to inflict that on all of you as well <3

[AO3] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

Platonic Stobin - Rated: G - 1.7K

Angst with a happy ending It's short enough the full thing is under the cut!

"For all of the late night wishing on a star type of bullshit he does, when he's alone in the dark and doesn't even have to properly face himself, let alone anyone else, you'd think he'd be able to handle it when he finally gets what he wants."

You'd think that all of the near-death experiences and injuries and horrible secret knowledge they’d all had would make a group of people like, forthcoming about their feelings.

But when most of those people are hiding deeply under too many layers of irony, insecurity, and maybe an affected teenage distance, feelings come out in stupid little arguments and the decision to be as annoying as possible instead of like.

Talking about it.

The affection is just like that too – drenched in demands - and just like anything, Steve has to assume that being asked for shit means that someone somewhere cares about him.

If they need him, that means they'll think about him, remember him.

It means they won't leave and won't spit his feelings back in his face, drunk off of either expensive wine or spiked punch – he's since forgiven Nancy, and they're good friends, though she could never love him.

Forgiving his mom is something he thinks he'll get around to one day, if she ever gets around to deciding he exists again.

His dad is a lost cause, so he doesn't bother.

---

Robin's hand is tight around his, her nail polish alternating between a shimmery blue and a stark black. It works on her, makes her look cool in the way only she can be.

He studies the difference in their fingers, his nails are neatly trimmed out of habit, though the skin around them peels like he hasn't been taking care of the skin. Hers are doing pretty well, considering she's once again trying to fully kick the habit of biting them.

Despite how much smaller her hands are, he feels like the one who's protected, a bracing grip that keeps him grounded as some of his neighbors head out of the store, the sour feeling of being degraded by nothing but polite conversation about where he might go to school next year and “What are your parents up to these days?” sitting heavy in his guts.

"You want to pick the movie?" Robin asks, adding her other hand into the mix, squeezing his tightly.

He shakes his head, can't stomach the thought of having an opinion on anything right now, on being some kind of real boy who has to make a decision harder than breathe in – good – now breathe out.

She lets go of him to go wander around the shelves, and he misses the comfort deeply, but doesn't say anything about it because he needs to find a way to earn the next one, this one finished with it’s job even if it’s prematurely. He’ll find the next emotional punch he can take and will hope it makes someone notice he could use a hug or something.

He wants to think he's got people in his life now that notice him at least some of the time, really notice him, not like before when he'd sat concussed through his exams and managed to pass because the teachers didn't want to face down the wrath of Harrington Sr.

He tries not to mope, tries to shake everything off, and goes to poke fun at Robin for whatever movie she picked.

---

For all of the late night wishing on a star type of bullshit he does, when he's alone in the dark and doesn't even have to properly face himself, let alone anyone else, you'd think he'd be able to handle it when he finally gets what he wants.

But maybe it's the unexpected timing, or just the way he didn't think they'd ever be those people – but when Robin hugs him goodbye one night, the last one out of the house as Nancy waits up outside to take her home, she murmurs a quiet "Love you" into his shoulder and he only manages to hold himself together by a fucking hair until the door is shut behind her.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that it would make him crumple to the floor beside the neat rack of shoes he never wears, but he finds himself flat on his ass with his forehead on his knees like someone's packing him away in a box.

Ugly tears already brimming and spilling down his face as his throat closes up around what might just be a banshee's wail.

He knows he's supposed to be happy, and he knows there's a part of him that is, but the rest of him is just hurt – there’s an empty hole that had dug through him until it had grown into a deep well of loneliness, and every little offering of care and attention and love drowns in it.

About thirty minutes and a big pounding headache later, his phone rings, and his voice is rough when he picks up.

"Steve," Robin gasps, out of breath like she'd run to the phone. "What's wrong?"

He frowns, wondering if he sounds that bad.

"Nothing, why?"

"Oh, you just sound… And I'd thought – I just had a feeling in the car and then it got worse and I got worried and I'm sorry I'm sure you're so ready to go get your beauty sleep and I know we'll see each other at work tomorrow – but you sound terrible, Steve. Are you really okay?"

Robin's voice is as soothing as much as it picks at him, all the little threads he'd found on the floor to put himself back together get snatched back up by her soulmate premonition feelings or whatever, and he feels his sore eyes start to sting again.

"Rob, everything's fine," he says, heading to the sink, stretching the phone cord so he can get a cold glass of water. "Just took a little nap."

"Oh, that's good," She sighs, clearly relieved. "I guess… I'll let you go?"

Steve's heart feels full of something that aches, but maybe it's not really in a bad way. He can't tell right now, but he blinks and blinks and blinks until his eyes aren't threatening to un-convince Robin of his fine-ness.

"Yeah, I'll see you in the morning," he says, and pauses, digging his toes into the tile floor to brace himself. "Have good dreams, love you."

Robin's voice is warm and thready when she replies, the phone doing a bad job of replicating it but he can still imagine she's speaking into his shoulder again.

"Love you too, goodnight Steve."

---

He does more crying in the shower, though this time it’s more of a relieved thing.

The little worry in the background of his mind that Robin had said it accidentally earlier is gone – and the larger worry in the front of his mind that he'd somehow ruin their friendship by saying the same thing back at her is gone too.

He's almost excited to get to work tomorrow, though his self esteem hasn't been doing all that great lately, with summer vacation and everyone he went to high school with coming back home from college.

Logically he doesn't care about the judgmental questions and the superior airs they put on, as if surviving another year of schooling could hold a candle to the crazy shit he's survived, but it still like, hurts.

At least the store’s been too busy for them to be scheduled for solo shifts, so he's mostly just working his full day with Robin, and aside from the retail hell of it all, it's been kind of nice just getting to hang out together for hours and hours.

---

Robin's too good at reading him, and he regrets his excitement to see her so soon after his weird love induced meltdown on the welcome mat.

"Oh my God, you lied!" She hisses as he takes his place behind the counter, leaning beside her. "Clearly something was wrong last night."

He knows his eyes are slightly fucked up still, but he's had nights of bad sleep that had him looking worse, so he's truly confused for a moment, and lets her know that, his perplexed frown out in full force as she sets her hands on his shoulders.

"C'mon, the puppy dog eyes aren't going to work," she says, squeezing and shaking him a little bit. "You let me think I was an over-worrier! That I was thinking too much. Tell me, Steve."

He sighs, closes his eyes, and wishes desperately they weren't at work for this.

"Any chance of letting me talk about it in eight hours?"

Robin scoffs, and digs her fingers into the meat of his shoulders.

It's probably meant to hurt, but it's a pleasant pressure, his muscles feeling a little sore from all of the tension he’s been carrying.

"No, tell me now before we have to flip the sign," she says, the little crack in her voice betraying her whole pissed off act.

"Fine just. Don't laugh," he says, wondering if it's more pathetic to ask her not to or more pathetic to experience it if she does.

She raises her eyebrows, eyes lasered in on his as he opens them, and she just looks sad.

"It hurt, you know, in the car. I just… I knew something wasn't okay but I had no idea what it was, but I was sure it was something to do with you," she says, subdued.

The soulmates thing gets pretty freaky sometimes, but Steve's heard of this happening to like, identical twins. So why not him and Robin, honestly?

"Sorry," he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Just uh, when you. Said you loved me."

Robin winces, loosens her grip on his shoulders.

"Not good?" She asks, and Steve frowns.

"No, it was good," he says quickly, doesn't want her to feel bad for saying it, or worse, take it back. "I'm…"

He thinks about it, the little bright spark in his chest that's been flickering, fighting against all of the heaviness and general stress he's been feeling. It grows a little stronger every time he sees her, and he hopes that one day it can be a proper flame.

"It's just been a while," he whispers, thinks that this isn't fair to even tell her. "Since someone's told me that."

It sounds depressing as hell, and truly, despite whatever his 3AM wallowing would have to say about it, he's been doing fine, has a full enough social calendar with his friends.

"Oh," Robin says, the way it hurts as plain as a clear day on her face. "Well, I love you."

Steve finds himself blinking back tears again, and the smile that sneaks up on him feels like the lightening of a burden, an unpacked suitcase.

"I love you too."

#griefabyss69 writing #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stobin fanfiction #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin

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kaphyr · 1 year ago

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Mirko x Gang Orca x Izuku | The Long Defeat | Excerpt

Day 2 of Rankings. Izuku meets Mirko and Gang Orca.

CW: Hand cuffs, Gang Orca has 2 cocks, squirting, DP, threesome

Mirko frees him and stands. Izuku opens his mouth to apologise, but she takes off her shirt and bathing suit top. She beckons him with a finger. Her tits aren’t that big but her nipples are dark and large and Izuku thinks,

I must have a concussion.”

“No, this is really happening.” Gang Orca puts a hand on his shoulder and Izuku startles. “Only if you want to.”

Izuku nods like that was a question, like he could have ever said no when this is fucking Mirko.

She doesn’t sit on his face but she does straddle him and hold his arms up as Gang Orca clasps leather cuffs around his wrists.

“Good?” Gang Orca asks, a finger at Izuku’s pulse, beneath the leather.

“Yeah?” Izuku’s eyes keep flitting between them.

His eyes go to Mirko’s tits and the nipples she tweaks until they harden. Gang Orca’s eyes that bore back into him. Mirko’s white trail that’s trimmed like an arrow pointing down at her pussy. His abs that flex, a stray drop of water travelling between them. Her pussy that’s dark on the outside. His crotch that looks like it’s packing under his swimming trunks.

Izuku looks away. I don’t even know if he’s into guys. Shouldn’t creep him out―especially when they could really hurt me and I’m tied up and―

“You’re breathing a little fast,” Gang Orca notes.

“That’s what bunny prey do, isn’t it. Get scared―” Mirko drags her nails down his stomach and he flinches; it doesn’t hurt, but he’s so wired he can’t help it. “―and fuck like the world’s ending.”

Gang Orca hands her a condom and without breaking eye contact with Izuku, she slips it on him. And then she’s sliding onto his cock.

Izuku moans. It’s been ages since he’s fucked someone. Weeks since he’s had a warm pussy around his cock. Months since he’s had a woman ride him. And Mirko is good at it.

She’s not fast or forceful. She takes him as deep as he’ll go and her hips do this twist when she goes up or down. And when she rises, she lifts till his cock is nearly out. When she comes back down, he feels like he’s fucking in from scratch. It’s the perfect pressure at the head. And when she’s taken him to the balls, she squeezes and Izuku can’t help but buck into her, into that heat.

“Yeah? What else does the little bunny like? Wanna call me mama bunny?” she asks, her hands squeezing her tits.

“Ah―no, that’s―sorry.” Izuku blushes, but at least he still has his mask on.

“Well, what the fuck do you want? Because I’m good. Or… is that what you like? Get used all night, put away wet?”

Izuku swallows. “Ah, like touch, please,” Izuku says, high and breathy.

“Yeah? Want me to touch you? Or you want Orca’s big hands, big claws?”

Izuku looks at Orca and looks away. “Don’t―sorry. I don’t want to weird you out.”

Gang Orca laughs gently. “I just cuffed you.”

Izuku snorts and his shoulders relax a bit. “Um. Both? Please?”

“Fucking greedy, I like it!” She rests her hands on his pecs and her fingers dig in.

Izuku hisses but doesn’t move away, doesn’t complain. It feels good.

She hurries a bit, her tits swinging. She looks down at him and it’s exactly like Kacchan. She’s looking at him like he’s a villain and she gets to do whatever she wants to him.

Her nails dig in and her pussy squeezes and then she frowning a little as she bites her lip. Izuku bucks back and then black fingers clutch at her. Gang Orca’s behind her, one hand stroking Izuku’s thigh, tracing the marks Kacchan left. They go lower but never quite reaching his ass. His other hand goes to her cunt, where they meet. Izuku almost cums.

She does. Her ears shoot straight up then flop down. She keeps riding him as she moans, still biting her lip. Gang Orca’s fingers―still on her clit―stroke in circles. Her scream is muffled, but Izuku can feel the way she squeezes and her hands that scratch like she’s trying to peel off his skin.

When she comes down, Izuku lets out a breath. He was this close to cumming, but even he can tell this is nowhere near over.

She looks back at Gang Orca and they share a look, both of them breathing hard. She looks back down at Izuku. “Wanna get fucked?”

“Can I?” And even to Izuku’s own ears, he sounds pathetic.

“Want a real cock or want me to get my strap-on?” she asks.

Both!? But Izuku knows he’s not gonna last long; he’s already tired from being hung over all morning, coming way too many times, and getting beat into a mat. “Real cock?” Izuku whispers.

Gang Orca smiles behind her and despite knowing he’s a good man, knowing he would never hurt him, Izuku is terrified―and so fucking turned on.

Mirko starts rocking again, teasing and taunting him. Behind her, Gang Orca opens him up with so much lube the sheets are wet beneath his ass. The whole time, Gang Orca leans to the side and squeezes his thigh before asking,

“Good?”

“More lube?”

“Can I add another.”

Izuku nods and nods.

Every time, Mirko turns his face back to her.

“You want to eat me out don’t you?”

“Want my slick dripping down your chin?”

“Want me to cum on your tongue?”

Izuku nods and nods.

When Gang Orca slides in, Izuku sucks in a breath. He’s tapered but so fucking big and just getting bigger.

Mirko clicks her tongue and Gang Orca stops.

“I’m okay, I’m okay―just―big. I can take it.”

Gang Orca’s hands go on on his thighs and then he’s sinking further in. He keeps going and Izuku bites his lip.

“You like that, dirty bunny? Not enough to fuck a cunt, is it?”

Izuku’s head rocks yes and Gang Orca keeps sinking in and in. She grinds her hips and Izuku screams.

“No, wait, wait, I’ll cum, wait, please.”

She laughs and her nails drag over his chest, tweak his nipples, pulls at them harshly and then he’s not so close to the edge.

Gang Orca finally stops and Izuku finds himself breathing hard and he’s so sure that if he looked down, there would be the shape of him.

“Are―is it―?” Izuku pants, eyes barely able to focus on Gang Orca’s.

He laughs deep. “As deep as it’ll go.”

Mirko joins him and her pussy squeezes and Izuku moans.

For a while, they stay like this. Mirko moaning and scratching at him. Gang Orca filling him to bursting.

“Ready?” Gang Orca asks and Izuku doesn’t have the space in his head to answer. But Gang Orca doesn’t pull out, doesn’t fuck in.

Instead, Mirko rises until she’s completely off his dick. Izuku looks down at his cock that’s hard and standing up, waiting for her. Behind it, there’s Gang Orca’s second cock. It’s long and thick and white. She sits on it and her ass swallows all of that cock like it’s nothing.

Then she takes a hold of Izuku’s cock and guides him in.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Izuku breathes.

She stills and Gang Orca reaches for his cock and holds him tight, for a long minute. Izuku squirms, but it helps.

Mirko takes him in, now. She sinks all the way down and this time, there’s no stopping it. She grinds down and Izuku cums into the condom.

But she doesn’t stop. She starts riding him, leaning forward. Izuku pulls at his cuffs, staring at her face, her manic grin―Kacchan’s red glare. Izuku shuts his eyes and focuses on the sweet squeeze of her pussy.

And then Gang Orca’s cock pulls out a little and fucks back in.

Izuku isn’t even in his body anymore. It’s like there’s so much he can’t even pick what to feel, what to think. All he can focus on is the cock carving a way into him. Her pussy clenching around him. He can’t do more than moan and twitch and pull at the cuffs.

Then, Gang Orca goes faster and Izuku feels like his organs are being bruised. Like it’s punishment. He thinks he cums again ,but the tightness doesn’t leave his stomach as Mirko keeps grinding, one hand on his mask, forcing him to keep his eyes on her.

At one point, she fucks harder and squeezes and squeezes. There’s something rushing all over him. She shakes and Gang Orca holds her up and keeps fucking them both. When he pulls her back until she’s sitting straight, her hair loosens out of her bun. Her ears twitch where they lie flat against her head. Izuku can see the faint outline of that thick cock pressing so big and so far inside her.

He looks further down, at where his stomach bulges. He cums again.

They don’t stop. Izuku just floats. They keep riding―fucking―and he just moans and cries and eventually, he’s too soft to stay inside her. He slips out as she writhes, and then drenches him. He groans. Gang Orca is still fucking him.

She lifts and then she pulls his mask. She twists his nipples. “Come on, work that tongue.”

Oh. Okay, yeah, oh my god, yes!

She tastes a little acidic and a little like latex, but Izuku doesn’t care. She’s so responsive to his tongue. When he licks up or sucks at her clit or lets her grind on his tongue. His head is full of her scent and her sounds.

And on the other end, Gang Orca fills him up so much. And his second dick hangs fat and heavy over his own. Grinding and slipping all over him. Izuku thinks he cums, moaning into her pussy.

Gang Orca fucks him through it, but once Izuku is done, he finally pulls out.

Izuku feels empty. Feels gutted. Like everything inside him has just been rearranged. He’s never felt this good in his short life.

He’s half-dazed when he leaves. Gang Orca hands him his things and helps him into his shirt. He even rolls down his mask. Mirko hands him her gym set with a wink and tells him to pass by her office―he’d make her paper work more fun, sitting under her desk. Izuku just nods and nods.

Like this scene? A reader suggested it and so can you! You can request scenes on my patreon and also, I sometimes ask for them in my fic The Long Defeat on AO3 (btw, that's where this scene is from)

#bnha fic #mha fic #the long defeat #ao3fic #bnha izuku #mha deku #gang orca x izuku #gang orca smut #mirko smut #mirko x izuku #mirko x gang orca

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rayofsuns · 2 years ago

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PT.3

PROMISES, PROMISES

it's been four months since my mother left and I started living with jason. it was hard at first, being abandon by the only partent I had left in this world but jason made sure I had everything I needed. at first it was hard to get out of bed in the morning and it was even harder to eat. but jason took care of me, like he's always done. he made sure I ate what little food I could stomach and he held me close as I cried on his shoulder then he'd wiped my tears and tell me how much he loved and cared for me, he promised me that he would never allow another person to hurt me like my mom did.

I haven't fully gotten over my mother leaving, who would. but life goes on and there's more important things I need to worry about. like surviving.

jason and I have fallen into a rythem of our own. we usually woke up in the afternoon due to our nightly activities that lasted well into the morning if the loot was good. we'd eat breakfast infront of the T.V. while jason's mother slept. when it got late enought we'd head out to strip some cars.

stripping cars put easy money on the table even though most of it went to jason's mother. which I don't mind because she's letting me stay with her. I feel like I owe her and jason everything, if it wasn't for them I'd be on the street or worse.

things were going great until jason's dad showed up. from what jason has told me his father would disappear for monthes on end and pop back up when the money ran dry. I guess the money ran dry because there he was sitting at the table stuffing rice and chicken down his throat while jason was staring daggers into his father not bothering to touch his food in a small protest.

I was worried about jay, he hasn't said a word since we came home and saw his father sitting at the table with a beer infront of him. he didn't say anything when willis. jason's father, ordered us to sit and he didn't say aything when willis glared at me, like he was wondering if I had always been here or just popped up.

the room was silent expect when catherine would let out a small chuckle. her eyes where low like she was about to fall asleep right here at the table and she rocked back and forth like she was soothing a baby.

she was high out of her mind no doubt thanks to willis. "who's the kid" he asked nodding his head towords me. "that's y/n. she's going to be staying with us for a while" catherine said slow like a sloth. "what, she's your little girlfriend or somthing?" he asked jason. but still jason said nothing. willis slowly started turning red. he didn't like being ignored and his face showed it. he looked like an ape who didn't get a banana. "Oh so you don't know how to speak now huh? last time I was here you had a lot of mouth on you and now you're quiet."

"why are you here?" jason asked clenching his teeth in anger. willis slammed his hand on the table. "I don't have to answer to you! I'm the parent here." "you're an ass." I said without thinking. everyone in the room paused, it felt like even the cars outside stopped and fell silent, waiting for something to happen. "the fuck you say!" willis stood up so fast his chair fell backwords. everything else happened in slow motion, jason quickly standing up from his chair and getting in front of me just in time for willis's fist to connect with his jaw. jason stubbled back and I saw red. I jumped on willis clawing his face with my nails I always forget to trim. willis was surprise at first but he quickly regained his wits and pushed me off of him. "you fucking bitch!" he yelled wiping off the small droplets of blood from his cheek. "don't touch him!" I yelled jason pushed me behind him incase his father came at me again. "you fucking bitch." he said again while wiping more blood. "I'll get you for this. you'll learn sooner or later who runs this house" he said angerly but thankfully he didn't do anything. instead he put on his shoes and walking out the door, making sure to slam it behind him. jason sighed in relief "jay, are you ok?" I asked he nodded, turning around to face me. "for now, I think so."

---

Willis made our life a living hell. he took back the only room in the apartment, forcing jason and I and sometimes Catherine if he was being extra shitty, to share the couch. he would beat on jason every time he saw an opportunity and when I would get involved he would beat me too and if that wasn't bad enough, he started taking the money we earned. every dime of it. there wasn't a place we could put it that he wouldn't find it. it's like he knew every hiding spot that had ever existed in the apartment.

I don't know what he did with the money but I know what he didn't do. pay the bills, because three monthes into him being here we got a eviction notice saying we had a week to get out. "what are we going to do jay?" I asked staring down the the big red letters. he held the paper tightly in his hands. he was angry. at the paper, at his father and at the world. "I don't know" he whispered. "it's going to be ok jason." I said taking his hand into mine. "we'll figure it--" I was cut off by willis yelling "get your ass in here!" he sounded both scared and out of breath. like he was running a marathon in the room.

jason and I shared a look of concern before running to the room. when we got there willis was on top of catherine doing chest compressions. there was foam around her mouth and she was slowly turning blue. "fucking help me!" willis said I snapped out of my trence and ran to the house phone. I dialed 9-1-1. "911 what's your emergency?" the lady asked in a montone voice. "my friends mom is ODing we need help." I cried into the phone. "ok. what your address honey?" I quickly told her the address and apartment number. "ok do you know if she's breathing?" "No I don't think she is. she was turning blue but my friends dad is doing chest compressions, but I don't think it's working" she hummed "ok the police is on the way now, can you open the door for them?" I ran to the door and opened it before running back to the phone. I could hear jason and willis yelling at each other but I couldn't make out what they were saying. it's like my brain went numb with adrenaline.

willis stormed out of the room, his face was red from anger or saddess I didn't know. "where are you going?" I asked. he seemed startled by my presents like he forgot other people in the world existed "I-I. take care of him you're all he has left." he said before walking out of the apartment. I didn't know what he meant all I knew was that I need to be with jason. "I have to go" I said the the operator. "wait, no you need to sta--" I hung up the phone going back into the room. jason was crying over his mother unmoving body "the police is on they're way. they're going to save her." jason shook his head. "she's dead." his voice was small and weak. "jay. we-we have to try. Ok?" he didn't say anything, he just stared at her. I sighed and got on the bed next her catherine. I didn't know how to do chest compressions but I knew from the office I had to maintain 120 beats a minute. "ah, ha, ha, ha stayin' alive. stayin' alive." I repeated it over and over again until a deep voice called out. "Police!"

"we're in here!" jason yelled. two officer and three paramedics rushed into the room. "you can step back, we got it from here." a lady said coming to my side. jason and I backed away and watched while the paramedics checked her pulse before shaking her head. "how long has she been like this?" one asked. "30 minutes or more. we're not really sure." I said trying to keep a level head for jason. "can you take them into the living room?" the lady asked the police officers. they nodded and lead us into the living room. "do you know what kind of drugs she's taken?" an officer asked. we shook our head no. "I think she does almost everything." jason said. he had a far away look in his eye like he was in another universe. "and your father?" we shrugged. "he left ten minutes ago." I answered "and what's his name? maybe we can find him"

"willis todd." I answered again. the officer nodded before leaving the room. the room was silent. except for the sound coming from the room. I don't know what they were doing but I don't think it was working. I gripped jay's hand hard when the noise in the room stopped and catherine was wheeled out on a stretcher. "what's going on? what's happening?" jason asked jumping up from the couch. "I'm sorry kid but your mother is gone." and just like that jason and I were truly alone.

the next few weeks were a blur. they took catherine away, I have no idea where. I don't know where they take the already dead people. do they still take them to the hospital? or somewhere else. willis showed back up that day and was instantly cuffed and taken to jail. the police claimed they had a warrent out for his arrest, something about petty crimes and we were homless. the property manager came that friday with the police. we barley had time to pack our clothes before we were shoved out. the police didn't care about the two kids being put out of they're home, they never did.

----

the little money we had from the cars went to a motel we were staying at and food. it was rough but we made it work. as long as we had each other everything would work out. "we have enough for ceral and ramen." I said counting the money we got from greg. "the rest goes to the hotel." jason groaned as he flooped down on the bed

"I hate this"he said. I flopped down on the bed next to him. "I know but we're making it work. I'm proud of us." he laughed "us? you do all the work" I shook my head in disagreement "we're a team. you strip the cars and I make sure we eat, a team." I intwined our hands together. we were all each other had left. both our parents are gone now, either dead, in prison or never to return. it was hard, but we made it work. or atleast we tried too. suddenly jason sat up from the bed "did you hear? batman caught two face" jason said with sudden excitment in his voice. I rolled my eyes gettin up from the bed. we needed to start getting ready to go out but knowing jason he's going to talk my ear off while I get dressed.

"greg told me that he was made in a lab by a mad scientist, who got bored one night. he told me batman is half bat half man." I said. jason made a face of distaste. "that old fool. he's not half man. he's a bat that's the size of a man and he wasn't made by a scientist. he accidentally fell into toxic waste or something." he said rolling his eyes. "that doesn't make any sense jay. why would he fight crime then if he's just a bat? and what about robin? he's oviously a boy." "of course he's a boy but he was also bitten by batman and now he has weird powers" I rolled my eyes as I put on my shoes. "come on it's time for work." I said throwing his shoes at him.

we've been walking up and down alley ways looking for any car worth stripping but so far nothing. drug dealers? yes. prostitutes? also yes. but cars that doesn't look like it'll break down turning the corner, so far no. until we turned down a dark alley and just sitting there was THE batmobile. "oh shit!" jason cursed. we ran over to the car, to addmire it. it was nice and shiny and freaking amazing. "this can't be real. is this real or am I dreaming?" I asked jason. suddenly jason pinched my arm. "ow!" "nope not dreaming. now do me." I pinched his arm as hard as I could. "ow!" he said rubbing his arm "nope, not dreaming" he glared at me but it didn't take long before he was smiling again. "let's steal batman's tires" I looked at him like he was crazy but the more I thought about the more cool it seemed. I smiled and grab the jack. "let's hurry before he gets back" I said.

surprisingly it didn't take long for us to get the first tire off. "greg is going to flip when he see's this" I said as we loaded the heavy tire onto the wagon. "come on let's get this to greg before we get caught." I said pulling the wagon behind me.

I pounded hard on the rusty metal door. "ok. ok. what do you want" greg said. he looked like he just rolled out of bed. "greg! look. look what we got." I said rolling the tire into the shop. "what is it?" he asked voice all groggy "a tire. off THE batmobile" I exclaimed. that seemed to have woken him up because he immediately put on his glasses to inspect the tire. he took his time, going over every little detail "well shit kid. how the hell did you get somthing like this?" he asked "found the car in an alley-way when we were hunting. so how much are we getting?" jason asked "well for my faviorte customers, I'll give you a thousand." I rolled my eyes "those rich boys you sell to will pay top dollar for this tire. try again." I said. greg laughed "ok, you got me there. how about five?" my eyes widen "five thousand?" greg nodded "sold!" jason and I said together. after getting our money we were going to head home when suddenly jason stopped. "let's go get another one." I just stared at him. "just hear me out, we got five thousand for one. one! if can get at least on more we'll be set." it would be nice to not have to worry about finding good cars to stip or having to pay for the motel for a while. "ok. but one more." his smile widen. he grabbed my hand and we ran back to where the car was.

"ok let's make this quick. we dont want to get cau--" I stopped a tall black shadow stood next the car. "oh shit" I cursed. I looked at jason who nodded.

jason and I took off running. heavy footsteps could be heard behind us. he was most definitely following us. "crap. he's gaining on us!" jason yelled. "we need to split us! I'll meet you back home" I said. jason nodded before taking a quick left down and alley-way. I heard the heavy footsteps falter before following jason down the alley. "come back to me jason. I need you" I wispered. I was out of breath when I finally made it home. I ran all home not stopping until I saw the old, dirty motel I called home. I stayed up late waiting for jason to return but to my horror he didn't return.

-----

sorry for the mistakes. I hope you liked it.

#batman #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood #young jason todd #black reader #i'm not a writer #i'm just bored #y/n #jason todd #reader pov

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lovenona · 3 years ago

Text

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.)

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox.

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong.

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met.

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago.

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover.

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.”

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–”

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say.

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up.

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay.

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.”

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda.

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think.

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.)

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.”

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.”

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes.

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full.

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you.

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.”

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.”

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs.

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it.

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?”

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–”

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.”

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly.

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.”

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth.

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?”

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time.

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.)

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?”

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away.

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.”

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.”

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.”

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.”

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is.

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.”

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power.

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name.

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind.

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans.

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.”

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight.

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for.

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being.

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.”

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind.

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.)

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer.

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.”

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge.

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat.

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you.

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water.

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch.

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.)

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone.

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies.

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?”

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way.

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.”

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–”

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.”

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it.

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter.

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence.

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.”

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love.

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone.

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.”

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs.

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.”

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother.

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth.

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets.

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you.

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being.

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos.

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum.

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return.

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want.

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”)

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover.

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you.

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now.

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun.

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso.#it's dark in here #it's hot in here

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tojakku · 4 years ago

Text

✶ - sugarplums and stardust

pairing: fpopstar! reader x arc trooper fives summary: you, sugarplum, galaxy-wide adored popstar. fives, galaxy-wide renowned idiot. warnings: rated m for mature! this chapter includes: smut (18+), oral (female receiving), dirty talk, implied rough sex, pee pee in v, the beauty of checking up on your partner, mature language... a hot clone trooper, flirtation... alcohol... etc... fives being a little slut

THE BARRACKS ARE ALMOST ENTIRELY QUIET. Almost. The centre of Coruscant never quite escaped from the thrum of late-night traffic, or the sing of the planet throbbing right below their feet, through canals and chambers and pipes of sewers crawling with scrap rats.

Sometimes too much silence wasn’t good for Fives’ brothers. Sometimes it made them more restless, tossing and turning before eventually leaving to the gym, to push weights and punch bags until their tiredness had them collapsing on the mats. It was an uneasy and unpredictable world in the barracks- right where it should be predictable and easy.

The 501st are on shore leave along with a good handful of other battalions, a couple from the Inner Rim, the 13th Battalion from Sullust, even Wolffe and Cody were sticking around somewhere. Fives, although he was meant to be raving and silly and wild, was feeling a little… well, he hadn’t eaten much at dinner.

Something about the last campaign on Bothawui, a second, months after the first, and being soaked through with blood and gunfire, had just dulled him a little. Maybe he just needed sharpening.

He muscles his helmet in his hands, trudging down the main corridor through the barracks. There were separate rooms inside now, the one he shared with the rest of Rex’s squadron far at the end. The lights, although top of the range, working perfectly, were too bright, flickering off the durasteel of the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Fives wrinkles his nose. Too bright.

There’s the slightest shimmer of music, though, and for a brief fleeting moment, Fives is convinced it’s coming from outside, from Coruscant, but when he pushes through into his part of the barracks, his stomping ground, he stops still.

Now, the 501st have always been fans of partying, music, drinks, cantinas, women, but Maker, Fives was not expecting four full-grown men huddled around a datapad, nodding their heads to a silvery voice accompanied by a thrumming beat. He didn’t expect, either, the harsh shushing he receives from an irritated Kix.

The medic holds up a hand and starts rabbiting on to Jesse, perched on his left on the bunk, leaning his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Damn batchmates.

“See? She’s amazing,” Kix mutters, gesturing at the datapad. “She was on the radio the other day, little Tano said something about her and I looked into it.” Fives tosses his helmet on the opposite bunk and takes a peek at what exactly they’re watching.

Oh.

A popstar. Shimmying. Rather precariously.

She’s all clad up in pale, pastel lavender, her cheeks dusted in a thin film of shimmering pink, her mouth painted a matching shade. She’s even got this wild, bright yellow hair. Kix takes a wary glance at Fives before angling the screen a little more.

“Sugarplum.”

“She’s some babe from the Core Worlds, a superstar,” Hardcase supplies, chewing on a bar of some unidentifiable substance with a grin. “Hot,” he comments, when she turns to wink at the camera.

“What is this?” Fives asks, leaning heavily on the bunk. Her shimmering, glittery skin seems to just seep through the datapad with every shift, shimmy and spin.

“She’s doing concerts all over Coruscant in the next few days. Then Corellia, then the other ecumenopoli.” Echo speaks as if it’s common knowledge. Fives scowls at his twin, shoving his shoulder with a hand.

Kix swipes left on the datapad and suddenly a rather risque picture flashes up, Sugarplum’s tongue out, her eyes rolled back. A ripple of chaos from the boys as they try to cover the datapad, and a roar of laughter from Hardcase when the pad goes flying over their heads.

“What the fuck?”

“That is not my datapad, I swear-”

“Yeah, it’s Tup’s!”

“No, no, it’s definitely ‘Case’s.”

Fives snorts, throwing himself onto his bunk, listening, happily, to his brothers bicker.

“Want to bet she wants a piece of clone ass?” A murmur of dissent and discern when Jesse speaks follows- Fives struggles not to burst into a laugh. The cog-faced trooper looks down in embarrassment when he’s knuckled into a headlock. “Come on!”

“Yeah, maybe she does, but we weren’t going to say that!” A pause. “It’s practically gospel truth all of the beautiful ladies want a piece of us.”

The door busts open again, on four troopers in a pile, and Fives, beaming happily away on his bunk. It’s Rex, ole’ Captain, and he looks once at the pile, once at Fives, before moving into the barracks, silent as night- not on Coruscant, silent somewhere else.

Fives wriggles under his Captain’s gaze, uneasy. Sometimes he made him uneasy when he didn’t talk, didn’t even greet them. Sometimes it meant the end of shore leave. Fives swallows, stuffing the panic hard down in his stomach to edge himself along the bunk with a little more formality. Rex catches his gaze.

“You lot looking at Sugarplum again?” There’s an uproar of disagreements, denials and something else, just Jesse relenting with a sigh. Fives stuffs a fist against his mouth, trying to contain his laughter at the four troopers fumbling over each other, even as Rex stares, unimpressed.

“Yeah,” Fives mutters. “They were, but we saw some of Hardcase’s secret bank and they threw the-” A pillow hits him square in the face. “Hey!”

“You guys are bad as cadets,” Rex huffs, laughing softly, bringing his datapad up. He looks more tired than usual, rings under his eyes.

“You tired, Rex?” Kix asks, suddenly fluttering into medic-mode. He touches Rex’s forehead with the back of three fingers and draws an amused sigh from the Captain. Fives watches over the edge of his fist. If something’s wrong with Rex, that means no drinking themselves into inhibition later that night.

“Better not be! We’re out tonight,” Jesse knocks his hand on Rex’s shoulder as he throws himself up from the bunk. “And I’m dreaming of beating Commander Wolffe in a drink-down this time. This time.”

“Don’t you say that every time, vod?” Hardcase levels a gaze back at the now-scowling Jesse.

“What clubs do you think Sugarplum goes to?”

“Those glitzy ones on the upper levels, probably, the ones suspended in the air,” Rex joins in then, making weird shapes with his hands. “You’ve seen.” A moment of silence. “Okay, well, the General told me they sell sunfruit liquors there for five credits a shot.”

“Is it supposed to be better than the shit they sell us at 79’s?”

“Who fucking knows.”

“The General, apparently-”

“Kenobi was the one who told him.”

Another round of laughs. Fives sighs, smiling, before wrestling Echo into a headlock.

“Ready to get out-drunk tonight, brother?” A shove, a scoff, then a grin. “You better be. You owe me three drink runs.”

“Three?”

“Three, vod, three. For the last time I saved you.” Echo shakes his head, pushing a hand through his dark hair- same as them all, deep down. “Three.”

“Two.”

Fives laughs, bumping forearms with his brother. Echo knocks his temple against Fives’ and a moment of softness breaks the twins’ bickering.

“Fine, two.”

Fives never could refuse his batchmate.

You weren’t, and never will be, completely keen on Coruscant. Too much… difference. No, it’s not that, it’s just the deep tunnels into the ground and the rumours you hear sometimes, through your girls, through… well, anywhere.

‘Disease grows twofold as the lower levels of Coruscant are ignored for a Senate sickness’, or ‘The lower levels of Coruscant- most dangerous place in the galaxy?’. No, of course not. There’s police, you stupid news writer.

You pick idly at your nails, smoothing your thumbs over each metallic-blue painted tip to soothe your nerves.

Eva and Lirisa had planned for a club outing tonight. The concert earlier had gone perfectly fine, just amazing, really. Everything was on point, the dancing, the singing, the backup vocals, the crowd… it still tingles on your skin like a second skin. The thrill would never hit any different.

You’re hidden away in your dressing room back in your apartment, slumped over a chair like a swooning lady. Lirisa is fixing her hair around her three little head horns, a bright, vivid purple like her skin, frowning in the mirror over your shoulder. She catches your gaze after a moment, face folding into concern.

You stretch out in the plum velvet chair, legs in fluffy slippers spreading when she gets that look. That look meant questions.

“Why are you so down?” You frown, shaking your head, returning your gaze to the datapad in your hands. A news article about you paints the screen. Lirisa looks down, once, twice, realises, and snatches your chin away from it. “Stop reading it if it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s good.” She pouts, letting you go with a soft pat to the shoulder. You shuffle uncomfortably in your feather-trimmed robe, the sheer material not offering much of a comfort in the face of a wide-open balcony window a few paces away.

Eva appears seconds later, looking plump and perfect in her eye-snatching candyfloss pink minidress, feet hidden in peculiar fur-cuffed ankle boots. She shifts, eyes ducking against the ground, her tattoos across her nose, little black diamonds against pale green skin, vivid and stark.

“Oh, wow!” You exclaim, turning the spinning chair with a free hand. Lirisa squeals, rushing forward to tug at the hem of the dress, pulling the daring v-neck even lower. Eva hisses, batting away her friend’s hands.

“Don’t pull it down that far!”

“I wasn’t!”

A giggle and a sigh, then attention flickers back towards you. Your gut drops when they rush forwards, springing upon your wardrobe like it was their job- well, it was, but that doesn’t matter. There’s two options for dresses and you’ve already made your decision. A deep blue second skin, a dress that shimmered like a starlit night under the right light. The front was a simple scooped neck, low enough that your cleavage could make a gasp for breath, but not low enough you’d be recognised for a sleaze. The back is a square of sheer material until your hips, a little more than daring, a little less than risque, perfect for a night of dancing and drinking.

There were even little silver stilettos in the corner.

“No one will recognise me in blue, so stop trying to find other dresses,” you chide. “I’ve already made my decision.” A pout from Lirisa doesn’t move your hard-as-steel expression. Sometimes the Theelin girl had the ability to actually change your mind, but now, you sit there, waiting patiently for her to stop sulking. “Are we still going to that… um, that bar?”

“‘That bar’,” Eva mocks, turning you sharply to the mirror to start fiddling with your hair. It rests, untouched, until she starts pulling it up. “The clone bar.”

“Are we even going to be allowed in?” Eva nods, twisting a coil of hair around her finger. It’s not the same electric yellow it was on stage- the wig was long gone. “Who have you bribed this time?” You grin, glancing at her in the mirror. She shakes her head, disgusted at the pure suggestion of bribery.

(Wouldn’t be the first time she had… well, Eva had once tried to bribe a club bouncer with a tray of meiloorun fruit.)

“I heard from a reliable source in the GAR offices that a whole bunch of sexy, all-too-willing clones are on shore leave.” You sigh, tugging on a forlorn strand of hair. Eva grabs your shoulder, firmly. “Don’t pull, your hair is almost done.”

“Shouldn’t I get my dress on first?”

“You’ll only spill blumfruit juice on it.” You scowl. “And we’re leaving in twenty minutes, standard. I already called a speeder for us.”

“No paps?”

“No paps.” A pat on your shoulder and you relax. “Anyway, we’re going to have fun tonight!” Lirisa moves around in the background, now clad head to toe in what looks like skin-tight purple leather. She smiles, fondly, smoothing down a crease at her hip. The neckline plunges low below her sternum, but she acts as if she’s wearing Jedi robes with a swish and a sashay. You redirect your eyes when you get a rather tasteful flash of sideboob. “Looking good, Liri.”

“Thank you!”

“Is it a new suit?” A pause, a shrug. “Is it from my wardrobe?” You ask, eyebrow cocked in question. She nods, coyly smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Huh! If I took that you’d scream at me.”

“No, because I’d never confidently display so much sideboob at a club, Eva,” you mutter. Eva ponders it for a moment, but agrees, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Well, let’s just get to the club first, then we’ll decide how much ‘sideboob’ you’ll display after a few drinks.”

If there was one thing Eva was right about, it was the abundancy of rather good-looking men in the same place. Getting in had been easy- just flutter your lashes at the Coruscant guard on the door, he’d step aside and let you straight in with promises of a kiss later.

Inside was beautiful, purple and blue lights swinging low from a long-greyed ceiling, huge yellow holograms with all manner of languages on them- news, nunaball, flashes of the GAR-droids, the ones that present it. Then, even a flicker of your own face. A familiar beat begins thrumming ten steps into the bar.

Eva barks a laugh, hooking her pale green arm through yours, tugging you closer towards the bartender. She starts ordering shots in a rapid call, smiling politely at the droid behind it. You lean an elbow on the bright, turquoise counter, relishing in the sultry high notes of one of your latest tunes. Lirisa throws her arms around your waist, humming softly.

“Three.” Eva holds up her fingers. “Thank you.”

You flex your hands under the glow of a green-yellow menu. It’s fascinating, being suspended in a place like this and being able to take your eyes off the crowd for just a moment without being scared of being hustled. Eva touches your shoulder momentarily, her usual gesture of reassurance.

Your gaze slips from the bar- it’s fascinating, yes, but more fascinating are the similar faces flashing around you. Each one the same, but slightly different. Silver hair, shaved head, tattooed, long hair, dark hair, pale hair, wider smile, careful gaze. You wet your lips and catch the gaze of a trooper a few seats down.

He’s broad, like the rest of his brothers, but something else settles about him like a halo. Dominance, confidence. He’s got one cybernetic eye, too, but the gruffness of his expression as he moves from his seat has your eyes fixated.

Suddenly, you catch another gaze of another set of troopers some ways away.

Huddled in a booth, an entire squad is staring right at you. With a startled huff, you cross your legs, tugging gently on Lirisa’s leather sleeve.

“I think I’ve been made.”

“Where?” She looks over your shoulder, brown eyes searching against the near-darkness of the club. She raises an eyebrow, slowly. “Oh. Just troopers, it’s okay. They won’t bother you.” You frown, interlocking your fingers and moving, slowly, to lean awkwardly against the counter. Their gazes reside on your back, sticky like syrup, until someone speaks roughly at your side.

“You’re not a clone.”

You turn, matching the gaze of the gruff man from before. A glance over his armour tells you nothing- great. He’s patched in a pale, unforgiving black, and he moves, tilting his body to rest on the countertop.

“No,” you murmur. “I suppose I’m not.” Your fingers go immediately to your necklace, a thin chain of silver studded with transparent stones, to tug. It’s a habit. The trooper looks at you for a long moment, dark eye and silver eye roving until he smiles, a little. Something tells you smiling isn’t normally what he’s used to. “Is that a good thing?” A look through your lashes and a splutter of drink from Eva over your shoulder has you struggling to hold in a laugh.

The man’s eyes flit to the screens, then back to you.

“Is that you?” You purse your lips, glancing at the hologram. “Nice.” Nothing else is added before he prepositions: “Want to dance?”

It’s only a moment after he offers his name, ‘Wolffe’, that you agree, letting him lead you to a writhing pack of men, clones and civvies, a few girls of all species. Your fingers thread through his and with a giggle, you sit your drink- a sunfruit cocktail- now finished, on an empty table. A rivulet of excitement ripples through your stomach when he tugs you firmly to his chest, roving a strong-fingered hand over the small of your back.

He asks a soft ‘this okay?’, but you’re too far flushed with music and finally, relaxation. You throw your arms around his neck and sway to the upbeat bass. A few more moments and your head drops back with a soft sigh, Wolffe’s fingers catching against the thin seam where the sheer material turns back into oil-slick silken fabric. Your breath hitches.

“Never did get your name,” he huffs, nose brushing yours. You sigh, smiling politely.

“They call me Sugarplum,” you murmur, letting his hands on your hips move you a little more vigorously to the disco-beat. Wolffe grins, wolfish, before flipping you around, a hand flattening against your stomach.

The music continues, and you continue to let Wolffe roam his hands along your midriff until he’s heaving heavy breaths in your ear and becoming slowly less dancer-like. You had to admit, the clones seemed like they were lithe bands of silk ready to snap, but you were dying for a drink.

When the song starts to pulse out in favour of a quicker, sharper tone, you slide your hands against his and softly remove them.

“I need a drink,” you shout over the music. He swipes a hand over his sweat-stricken hair and nods, dropping himself into a booth. “Thanks for the dance.” You brush your lips against his cheek and dart through the crowd, desperately searching for a flicker of pink, or purple. Luckily, Lirisa’s still at the bar, pressed against it by someone in red armour, perhaps, but there nevertheless, and smiling, sober. “Liri and… friend.”

“This is Thire,” she calls, patting his hand. “Coruscant Guard.”

“Fancy.” You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide on his intentions when he gives the brightest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You feel your cheeks rush with heat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Plum,” Lirisa mutters. “How was your dance?”

“Oh, fine… you know me…”

“What, a prude?”

“No!” You bat her arm with a hiss. “Picky.” You flag down for another drink, dumping a pile of credits on the counter. Thire’s brows skyrocket, his face a portrait of shock when the droid picks through and takes only what’s needed. “Oh, I don’t know the prices…”

“That’s a lotta’ credits.”

Lirisa tilts his chin with one long, lavender finger and captures his mouth, eyes settling on you with a meaningful look. You swipe the credits up, dumping them back in the little silver shoulder bag she’s got on the counter. Oops.

You hear yourself in the speakers again.

“Huh. Whoever’s DJ-ing has nice taste.” Lirisa pulls away from Thire after a long moment, her lipstick a little smudged, but with a warm smile, Thire swipes it back into place. “Thank you, baby doll.” Thire darkens. “I’ve always liked ‘Popgloss’.”

“It’s not my best,” you murmur, eyes fluttering with shyness.

“This is you?” Thire asks, gesturing at the screen. You look at yourself, bearing a bright, fluorescent blue wig and matching lipstick. “That’s you?” He huffs a laugh of surprise. “Nice lipstick.”

“Thank her,” you reply, jabbing a thumb in the Theelin’s direction.

The droid slides a new drink over. You frown, staring at it. The glass is literally glowing, a white-ish liquid simmering inside.

“Courtesy of the 501st, ma’am.” The droid trundles away and you stare at the bright blue liquid with a smile.

“Boys in blue, huh?” Thire looks at the drink, then back at Liri with hooded eyes. “That looks like a mist-cocktail.” He turns, glancing over his shoulder towards where you’d seen the table staring at you. You follow his gaze, but only a few troopers remain. One of them raises a hand in a two-fingered salute, though. You smile coyly, waving in return.

With a careful touch, you raise the glass to your mouth and take a sip. It’s warm, warm down to your toes, and tastes amazing.

“Tastes great,” you say, a little surprised. “I should go thank them.”

“No, you should leave them waiting, maybe they’ll come up to you!” You scowl, shaking your head. Another sip of your drink and you turn, walking swiftly towards the table where only three troopers remain out of what was a lot more. One with long hair, another with lines tattooed down his face, grinning roguishly, and the last with a buzzed, blonde cut.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the drink.” You fiddle with the draw, lashes fluttering of their own command. All three troopers are staring, two at your face, and the other quite firmly at your legs. “And, well… thank you for fighting. Your service,” you murmur, suddenly taken aback with shyness. Come on, superstar personality! Make your appearance.

The blonde grins.

“You’re welcome. On both counts.” His demeanour is remarkably similar to that of the Wolffe from earlier. Perhaps a Commander. “We’re quite enjoying your music tonight.” You chew idly on a thumb, smiling bashfully. “And we enjoyed Wolffe’s poor attempt at dancing.”

“Oh!” You snort. “He wasn’t that bad!” Eyes follow your hips as they turn, swaying back and forth as you try to plant yourself firmly and more confidently at one side of the round table. “Um, well, thank you anyway.”

“Thank you, Sugarplum.”

You make a wild getaway before you can embarrass yourself further or faint in the lap of the blonde, who was staring a little too sharply for your taste. The music seems to pulse louder with every step you get back to Lirisa, who is now firmly shoved against the counter and smothered by Thire’s mouth. Eva is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Eva?”

“She ran off with a Twi’lek lady.”

You smile, huffing a chuckle of disbelief, leaning forwards to finish your drink in two more sips, when slowly, you notice a presence approaching you from the side.

Hands, well-defined, lined with veins and a few here-and-there scars, draw your attention like an industrial magnet. His skin is bronze, a dark, deep gold, like his brothers, but he plants his weight on the bar and clears his throat softly before speaking.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, dark. You swallow, hard, turning your head. He’s quite a face. He’s got quite a face- sorry, he’s… got quite a face. Right below his hairline, there’s a little ‘5’ tattoo, nestled there, inked in night-black. You take another sip of your drink for courage.

Alone, it’s easier.

“Hello.” Your voice is a little uneasy, but the trooper smiles, his eyes shining with politeness. Your eyes flutter shut when another one of your songs bursts through the speakers, but the trooper’s grin only grows.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

“No! No, sorry, I’m just… I don’t know.” His smile softens at the corners, less devilish, and he shifts his weight, spine arching with the movement. You let your gaze flicker along his lithe body, contained in blue-stained armour. ‘Boys in blue’, Thire had said. “Oh! You sent me the drink… it’s delicious.”

“Yeah? One of my favourites.” He moves a hand back through his dark hair, eyes ducking for a brief second, before meeting yours once more. You feel your chest swoop and you smile, wide, wider than usual. “Fives.” He offers a hand, a handshake, and you accept it, only for him to flip your wrist. His lips ghost your knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You can call me Plums,” you supply. “That’s what all my friends call me.”

“Friends?” A coy, cocked brow. Your chest flutters and you nod, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. You’ve probably got dark lipstick all over your teeth by this point, but the way Fives poses the question has you suddenly not-so-bothered. Lirisa’s knuckles jabs your spine twice, a signal. You’re pretty much alone now. She’d bring Thire back to her apartment, two floors under yours, and Eva was wherever that Twi’lek took her. “We like your music in the barracks.”

“Oh? Thank you,” you murmur, gazing into the bottom of your glass. “I wish you could all come to one of my concerts, that’s the only place I sound good sometimes. My studio stuff is a little-”

He suddenly tilts your chin with the knuckle of his finger, still grinning brightly.

“Don’t want to lose my beautiful view.” You chew helplessly on your lip, chest releasing a sort-of sigh, more like a swooning hum. “And I like both. All of it. The boys were playing a couple clips of your concert today.”

“Really?” You fiddle with the stem of your glass, not letting your eyes drop from his face, chiselled and kind, warm.

“Yeah. I like the pink, but if I’m honest, I like this blue on you even better.” He taps your lower arm, where the sleeve ends at your wrist. “We’re matching, see?” He gestures at his blue-painted armour. You suddenly smile, nerves dissipating.

“Seems like we are.” A smile shared, and Fives shifts forwards. His fingers skim your waist as he signals the droid for another drink. “You want me drunk or something?”

“How many have you had?”

“I can handle another. For you.” He raises a brow, eyes suddenly narrowing with a wild grin. “I suppose.” You rest a hand against his chestplate and he huffs a noise of near-surprise, before taking your fingers in his. He brushes his mouth against them and thanks the droid when he appears with another mist-cocktail, no, two. “What are these even made from?”

“Good question,” he murmurs, taking a long sip of his. You stare at him, unabashedly, for a moment, watching the light flicker through his long lashes, then the twitch of his mouth when he realises you’re staring. “Something you like?”

“You have the most beautiful profile I’ve ever seen,” you gush, turning his head with the tips of your fingers, smiling. His breath comes out in a slow whirl when you slide a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “Like a statue. One of those ones on Naboo in the big fancy halls.”

“You callin’ me handsome?”

“I’m calling you more than that.”

He takes another long drink of his cocktail and you follow, letting it warm your stomach. You glance at his blue armour, touching the lines of his arm.

“Boys in blue?”

“501st Legion.” He bows his head. “At your service, I’m certain. In fact, half the GAR will probably fall at your feet, princess.” You smile, sheepish. “Don’t be so unsure of yourself,” he murmurs, touching a curl of fallen hair at your temple.

“Who said I was unsure? Maybe I’m just faltering in the sheer radiance of your beauty.” Fives laughs, a low rumble in his chest, finishing his drink in one swallow. “501st… are you a Commander?”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“ARC-trooper. Advanced Recon Commando.”

“Oh? So… elite of the elite?” Fives’ eyes flutter, sliding over your features in one long, languid sweep. “Am I stroking your ego?”

“I’d much rather you stroke something else.”

You hum, head turning. You want to pretend the crude line has made you suddenly disgusted, but when he fastens a hand around your waist, you’d rather fall into him, onto him, onto him. He radiates energy.

“Can you kiss me now?”

His eyes widen, at least a little, and he smiles, eyes lidded, gaze smokier than a Sullust sunrise.

“Can I kiss you? That can be arranged.”

Fives leans, capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. He tastes of cocktails and fruit and something else sharper, darker, but you don’t care. It’s suddenly rather hard to care as he brushes a thumb along your ribs and leans you back further. Your chest hisses a content sigh when he tilts your chin, pulls back, then takes your mouth a little harder.

He’s soft as silk for a soldier with calloused hands, his touch careful, hesitant until you moan quietly into his mouth and he touches his tongue against the seam of your lips. You let your jaw open, and he slides his tongue along your teeth, grins, then groans when your hips cant into his.

“Fives, do you want… do you want to come to my apartment?” He huffs, almost as if he can’t believe his luck, mouth shining with moisture. His head dips, claiming your lips once more like he’s got unfinished business there.

His thumbs ripple over the creases in the dress at your hips, his index, middle, ring finger pressing into your ass, pulling you closer. He knows how to work himself, that’s for sure. You shudder, one hand threading into his hair, the other fastening firmly around his bicep like a vice. He slides his tongue into your mouth and sucks at your bottom lip with a chuckle. You muffle a choked whine, desire suddenly starting to yap at the gates like a feral beast.

“Yeah…” he replies, finally, eyes fluttering to kiss you again, twice, three times.

There’s gazes on you from the boys in the booth, you know, you feel them, but you don’t take a chance at them until you can lean back for a cool breath of fresh air. They all sit there, slack-jawed, wide eyed.

“Your friends are looking at us,” you murmur, fingers digging into his upper arm.

“Let them look. They’re not the ones getting an eyeful of this masterpiece up close,” he hums, nosing along your jaw. “You should be painted.”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

“You’re the first one it’s true for.” You feel your heart thrum a little quicker, his fingers pressing hard into your ass, then relaxing. “You wanna call a cab?”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on,” you murmur. You’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit- than your ego would like to admit. Fives steals another cool kiss in the entrance to the club, greeting a few of his brothers in a language you don’t understand, before ushering you in his warm, huge hands, to the cab drop-off. His arms suddenly hook around your waist and you sigh, softly, contently.

After dialling in the address to your apartment, the cab takes only another long two minutes to show up, of which consists mainly of Fives drawing his tongue in teasing circles on your neck, and hot, heavy touches along your ribcage.

You step into the cab first, smiling politely to the driver, only to be pinned to the seat by a suddenly ravenous Fives. He pulls you up, over, onto his lap and keeps you there with a hand on your thigh.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, voice low, rough. “I want to be sure you want this.” A finger gestured between your chests and you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “What’re you laughin’ at?”

“How could it be possible anyone wouldn’t want you, Fives?” You tug gently at his roots, smoothing kisses on both of his cheeks with a coy smile.

“You haven’t met my brothers,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “They don’t want even to bet on me when we spar.” You sigh, stretching. “Do you normally do this?”

“Do what?” You ask, certain your eyes are probably blared with lust and something more primal, more dangerous. Fives smothers his face in your throat, nipping gently at your pulse, breath more of a growl now. “Invite handsome men back to my apartment? You should ask my friends.”

“The Theelin and the Mirialan?” You nod.

“They think I’m quite picky, so nine out of ten nights end with me alone, eating ice cream and watching limmie.” Fives laughs, stroking a thumb over the crease of your knee. “So, you’re lucky.”

“Oh, yeah,” he growls, thumbing at your bottom lip with a grin. You take the digit into your mouth with a hum. “I’ve hit the jackpot.”

The cab stutters up to the dock at the very bottom of the apartment block, and it takes Fives a moment to stare up at the towering building before you can pay the driver and usher him into the doors. Islair, the Nikto receptionist, raises his hand in a polite wave, before doing a double take at the trooper on your arm. He still smiles, though, when you step into the lift.

“You aren’t afraid of heights?” You ask, when Fives leans against the metal bar on the opposite side of the half-glass lift. It slides smoothly through the building, leaving Coruscant more and more distant with every floor climbed.

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to the fiftieth floor.” You smile, fluttering your lashes, crooking your finger towards him. He crosses the lift, boots thudding against red carpet beneath your heeled feet, before shoving you roughly against the wall. His lips break your resolve as soon as he presses them against yours, tongue sliding through into your mouth with a hard groan. He shifts his hips against yours and hooks your wrists beside your head.

“You… we have to make sure there are boundaries.”

“You’d be surprised how much I can take, Fives.” He huffs, a low, gasp of a breath, fingers running up, below your dress. “How much can you give?”

“You’re really riling me up, princess,” he whispers, voice sharp. “How long till your floor?” You glance at the numbers, ticking up through thirty.

“Not long, handsome,” you murmur, sliding the tips of your fingers down his stomach, along his codpiece, until he groans, planting two hands hard on either side of you He could almost bend the metal. “Relax.”

“Tell me to relax while you’re doing that?” He grumbles, smothering you in another rushed kiss when the lift pings, and the doors open. In one graceful swoop, he hauls you into his arms and waits for you to flick out your apartment key. You rustle through the black, studded purse in your hands and quickly draw it out, a shimmery, pearlescent card.

“Apartment Three,” you whisper. Fives hurries along the carpeted hall, lowering you to your feet in front of a rather decadent black door, watching as you flick your card over the scanner. A soft, delirious scent of vanilla hits him right in the face when it opens, and he lets you tug him inside.

There’s a moment of silence.

“So, this is my apartment,” you mumble, feeling his presence creeping behind you. His hands snake around your middle, to the hem of your dress and up once more. He takes his time, like he’s standing in front of a painting at a gallery, pushing himself along your spine. You arch your back, sighing softly when he cups your breasts in his hands and kisses your throat, once, twice. “You don’t care…”

“Nice place.” Is all he manages, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, hardened against the silk of your underwear, underneath your dress, but he knows- he grins, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” You turn, fiddling with the latches of his armour pieces, kneeling on the cool wood of the ground. His throats jumps, but you ignore it, finely, too, as you release the rest of his white and blue protection onto the floor. “There. All done.”

“Uh, uh,” he calls, wrapping a hand around your wrist when you try to escape. Your breath hitches. Your back hits against his chest. “Your turn, princess.” His fingers play with the hem of your dress, spreading out along the warmth of your thighs.

“Zip.” He leans back, moving a hand to slowly drag the zip along your spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your throat. “Beautiful girl.” You exhale, sharply, shifting the dress from your arms with a wriggle. “Fuckin’ Maker,” he huffs, reaching forrwards to skim his thumbs over your bare skin. You’re suddenly quite happy you wore the black, slightly sexy underwear rather than the black, completely mismatched pair you were rushing for a few hours earlier.

“You like it?”

“Who were you planning to snag at the club? Wolffe wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with you. He’s hard on the outside, soft on the inside.” Fives smooths the pads of his thumbs across your breasts, nipples hardened in the cups of your bra, before lowering his mouth to the crevice between them. He runs his tongue, slowly, carefully, along the cool silk of your skin. “Fox, maybe. No… no, he’d finish and kick you out. Rex? My Captain? My brother?” You gasp, cupping his face between your hands. “No. Too soft. Too slow.”

“What are you trying to say, Fives?”

“That I’m the brother for you.” You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck. “I promise, I promise from the bottom of my heart… I am the clone for you.” He offers a goofy smile.

“I trust you, Fives,” you whisper, brushing his nose with yours. “Do you still want to try it, though?” You stroke a finger down the nape of his neck. “Figure out whether I’m the woman for you?” He tucks an arm below your hips and hauls you up, up into the air.

“I already know.”

“You don’t even know my favourite colour… my favourite flavour of ice cream, my favourite meal!”

“All in good time. For now,” he busts open a door at random. “Good choice.” It’s the bedroom. A wide bed, perfect for ignoring alarms, and what seems to be, to Fives, a good throwing range. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you bounce, just a little, watching him from the head of the bed. “Comfortable, too.”

“Come here,” you call, springing onto your knees. Fives reaches over his head and tugs in one mighty pull, his shirt off. You swallow, dry-mouthed, when he displays deep bronze skin, six lines of ridged muscle, broad arms, broader shoulders. His grin grows.

“You like what you-”

“Yes.” You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back onto the bed, hauling him below you. Bare skin against bare skin, you tremble with every hot, silky-smooth touch he ghosts up your legs, over your knees, along the curve of your spine. You shift your hips against him, pressing purposely along the velvet length hidden in his blacks. Your fingers splay against his chest, sliding along his stomach, into the waistband of his trousers.

A husky gasp and a growl when your fingertips fuss through the downy triangle of hair at the very centre of those defined lines of muscle, a perfect V. He thrusts his hips up, planting himself at an angle on his elbows. You grin, wrapping a hand around his cock.

It’s broad, long, big enough to make you wince, and hot to the touch. You sweep a thumb over the tip, wetness pooling there somewhere, a drop, more than that, a rivulet running along the underside of the head.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You smile, capturing Fives in a hard, rough kiss. His teeth clack against yours, but he doesn’t care, all he seems to care about is keeping that pressure on his dick and keeping you right there, beside him. “Oh, Maker.”

“That feel good, soldier?”

“Pull rank on me and I’ll cum in your hand right now.” He grins. You sigh, tapping your chin with your free hand.

“What comes next, I wonder?” Fives growls, tossing you on your back in one hard motion. He kicks off his pants, exposing bulking, heavy thighs corded with muscle and a long, thick cock. You grin, going to crawl forwards, but Fives presses you to the bed with a hand.

“No, no. Just stay there.” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties. They’re lace and silk, elegant, and he tugs them down, slowly. “You’re beautiful.” You feel your body flush, Fives’ breath quickening against your stomach, your knees, the apex of your thighs, before he presses his mouth into your heat.

“Oh, Gods, give a little warning next time-” He squeezes the skin of your right thigh with a sigh, running his tongue up the liquid warmth between your legs, between your folds, along the petal-pink flesh, wet with desire. “Fives.”

“You’re sweeter than sugar, princess. Sweeter than anything.” He taps your hips and pins them into the bed, nose brushing your clit with dangerous precision. “So pretty, soft.” His tongue thrusts into you, gathering your slickness in one long motion. He moves his fingers slowly, carefully, along your skin, rubbing one against your entrance in a wolfish, evil way.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hm?” Fives croons, biting softly at the skin of your thigh. “You say something?” He hums, licking his lips before shoving his face back between your legs. With the quick shift of his head, his finger eases into you, slowly, carefully. You groan, pushing your hand through his hair. His tongue is teasing at your clit, his finger shifting delicately inside you, slower than anything, but electrifyingly so.

“Fives, you tease,” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Stop playing around.”

“You’re asking me to stop playing around?” He adds a second finger, stretching you to the knuckle. You hiss, a hand latching around his upper bicep like a vice. Fives grins. He pecks you twice on the hipbone, then returns his attention to between your legs. “I’m quite enjoying playing around.”

“You’re being a tease. I’d much rather give you attention- ah, fuck, fuck- too. Please,” you hiss, eyes shuddering back as he coaxes the oncomings of an orgasm out of you. A grin against your skin- you feel it. His teeth graze your skin, then his mouth latches onto you once more. Liquid heat burns through your gut, coiling you tight. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, pretty girl, give it to me.” He flicks his tongue over your clit. “Give it to me, Sugarplum. You got it, baby.”

You choke on a moan as your orgasm snatches you away. It’s a thrumming feeling, a wheeze that escapes through your lungs and burns you hot inside out. A grin spreads onto your face, your skin is vibrating, shivering under the still-relentless touch of Fives between your legs. He eases up onto the bed, then, smoothing your breasts into his hands.

“Perfect tits,” he whispers.

“How do you want me?” You ask, breathless, eyes still spotty-white from the blinding climax rushing between your legs, rendering you twitching, shaking.

“Get on your back for me?” He asks, pinching a nipple between two deft fingers. You keen, shuffling beneath him. Your hand snakes between his leg and slowly strokes his cock, carefully, quietly. Fives groans, capturing your mouth with his. A moan is lost into his tongue, wetting your lips then moving against them once more. He’s a battering ram- no mercy, a perfect soldier.

“Fucking hell, Fives,” you whisper, raking nails over his scalp. He moans. You feel your stomach drop to your feet. “You like that?” He nods, parting your legs with two rough, callused hands. Your fingers pull hard at his hair and he whines, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, sliding his hand between your legs once more. He plays with your clit, your hand around his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he rasps, nipping at your bottom lip. You let go of him, reaching up to slide your arms along the hot, hard planes of his back. Fives stares at you, just for a moment, eyes dark like smoke, before he grips himself and pushes against you. “Slow?”

“Whatever you want,” you whisper, mouth cracking open when he impales you carefully in one liquid thrust. “Oh, shit. Now is probably a good time to tell you I’m on suppressors.” Fives tries to speak, but his words are lost in a broken groan into the hot crook of your neck. Your nails push crescent moons into his shoulders, letting him stretch you carefully along his generous length. “Are you all your brothers… this big?”

Fives huffs a laugh, nose brushing your pulse.

“Weird question.”

“Yeah,” you gasp, fanning your face with a hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” You stifle a moan between your fingers, eyes ducking back into your head. “Fuck, fuck, Fives, just a little quicker.”

“Quicker?” His hips snap against yours with a sharpness you haven’t felt before. Your chest drops out, but he continues, thumbs digging into your hips when he tilts you upwards, finding the best angle. His fingers slide beneath the small of your back to suspend you there, perfect for his ruin, when he brushes his mouth over your nipple and ruts firmly into you. “That, ah- that better?”

“Hm, yeah, yes.” You slide a hand into the hair at the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slipping open with every thrust of his hips, every shift of his cock inside you. “Yeah, baby, that’s better.” You scratch gentle nails over his back, admiring his warmth, before tugging carefully at his hair. He groans, pinning you into the bed.

Your eyes slide shut. Stars begin to speck behind them and you think he knows by the breathless laugh against your throat, then the broken moan into your jaw, your mouth. He tongues your mouth gently, bruising your lips swollen with the fervent touches.

“Fives-”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Touch me, just a little more,” you plead, nose brushes his as he pecks you once more, thumbing your right nipple, then finding your clit beneath a rough finger. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You like that, pretty girl?” He huffs, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Gods, yes, please!” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Fives’ eyes disappear beneath his eyelids, his chest rumbling with soft, persistent groans every other thrust. You whine, pulling at his hair, scratching at his back.

“You’re a little… fuckin’... ah, keep pullin’.” You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair, kissing him twice on the mouth, once on the jaw, angling his head as you see fit. “Yeah, baby, that’s right. Tight little pussy.”

He squeezes your waist with one hand, still flicking at your clit with the other hand, desperate to chase your orgasm out of you, and it works, he gives you one in moments. You stiffen, back arching, fisting a hand in the sheets, the other smoothing over his neck. Your moan echoes in your bedroom, and Fives eggs you on with gentle praise.

“Good girl, yeah, keep… fuck,” he wheezes, hiding his face in your shoulder. His arms are so tight. “Can I move you?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you whisper, letting him shift you into a lower position, where he impales you so suddenly your breath hitches and you shriek, turning into a whimpering mess. “Oh, that’s so good!”

“That’s good?” He breaths, pupils almost completely lost in black-brown irises.

“Yes, Fives, it’s good,” you whisper, smothering your mouth against his with a giggle, a grin, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He grunts, releasing your clit to roll a nipple between finger and thumb. You hiss sharply against him, forcing your heels into his back to push him deeper, harder. “Harder, baby, please.”

He quickens his pace, the bed shaking a little under his force.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Sweet angel,” he reaffirms. “Heaven sent.” His fingers wrap around your free wrist, pinning it against the silken sheets below your head. Your back arches with the pressure, a grin spreading along your face. “Fuckin’ hell, I’m gonna cum.”

You hiss when he touches your clit, so eager, so painlessly prepared to give you what you want- another orgasm, more pleasure, anything. He coaxes it out of you, another climax, relishing in your writhing against him, your low whine in his ear, the shiver that follows, the sweat that slicks him head to toe.

“Fuck!” You cry, shuddering back into the sheets.

Fives’ hips falter, his eyes scrunching shut, his groans lower, deeper, until you wind a hand into his hair and kiss him once more, and his thrusts pause.

“Inside?”

“Yeah.”

He finishes, coating you with one hard grunt, a sharp sigh, his eyes finally opening to find yours, a grin eventually appearing on his tired features. You let him fill you, for a moment more, before he pulls away a little.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pulling out. You huff at the cool touch of air against the wetness sinking deep into your skin, and watch him do a quick double-take around the room for the bathroom. With a snort, you point at the door on the left. He punches the release and wanders in, clattering around.

“Under the sink, baby.”

“Yeah! I got it,” he calls, reappearing after the tap runs for a moment. He kneels between your legs and gently, softly, wipes the warm cloth over you until he’s satisfied you’re cleaned up well enough. “There, princess.”

“Thanks.”

He disappears back into the bathroom, and a wet slap suggests he’s just tossed the rag into the bath tub. An muffled ‘oops’ and there’s another sound of running water.

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, darting from the bed to snatch up his long-sleeve top. It had the Republic branded right in the middle, grey against the black, and you snuggle into it, sliding your arms into too-big sleeves. Fives reappears after a moment and grins, crooking a finger towards your shrouded form.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, quietly, sincerely. “I’m assuming ‘no’ since you’ve stolen my shirt,” he hums.

“No, stay, please.” You usher him towards the bed, hands on his ass. You squeeze once with a snort and toss his trousers at him. He eases himself into them and pulls you into his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” Fives grins, craning his neck to kiss you softly on the mouth, the nose, the forehead. You stare helplessly at him, your heart suddenly quite warm, and collapse onto the bed. “Come sleep.” You pat the space beside you and watch as he slides himself in. “Never had a double?” His look of confusion is an easy tell.

“Nope.”

“Comfy?”

He turns, half buried in thick duvet and silk sheets. You can barely make out his nod but slide down beside him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He’s like a furnace- probably going to irritate you later in the night- but you relax against his chest.

“‘Night.”

“G’night, pretty baby.”

for the bbs always: @thegoodbatch @djangofetts @jangohshit @queenofheavenandhell

#fives x reader #fives #arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives imagine #arc trooper fives imagine #fives smut #arc trooper fives smut #star wars #the clone wars #star wars smut #purely self satisfying

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Note

hi hi. i’m not sure if you would write for narcissa but if Yes. could you do a smut alphabet or a little smut fic. anything really. i just. dom milf narcissa lives rent free in my mind 💔

Anon, she lives rent-free in my mind too <3 also I’ve never written for Narcissa before, so hopefully this is okay :)

Narcissa Malfoy Smut Alphabet

warnings: smuttt

gif creds to owner

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

She’ll coo and smirk and tell you how good you were for her, such a good little pet. She’ll kiss over any marks she left and get you water- and you’d better bloody drink it.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She likes her breasts- you always know exactly what to do, and she adores looking down and stroking your hair as you suck on her nipples with your eyes all wide and innocent.

On you, your waist is her favourite. Even outside of the bedroom, she’ll constantly be touching your waist or the small of your back. Inside the bedroom, she loves bending you over and gripping onto it from behind, and you often have little crescent-shaped marks left on your skin from her digging her nails into you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

She absolutely loves the sight of you with her release glistening on your chin, and she loves kissing you and tasting herself on your lips.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Narcissa loves teasing you with toys, making you sit through dinner with a vibrator buzzing away inside you, smirking at you as your thighs quiver and you press your lips together, trying to keep your orgasm at bay.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Narcissa knows what she’s doing. She knows what she likes, and she is very quick at picking up on what makes your knees weak.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She LOVES taking you from behind- she is a force to be reckoned with when she’s wearing her strap

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Narcissa tends to be very serious in the moment, very into it, although she is open to having a bit of a laugh with you.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I reckon Narcissa isn’t completely bare? Idk I just get that sense. Neatly trimmed but slightly sparse idk

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Narcissa can get very intimate when you make love, kissing you all over, whispering words of love to you all the time...

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

She doesn’t do it very often, priding herself on her control. She loves catching you trying to get yourself off, mocking you gently and making you all flustered

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

bondage, overstimulation, dom/sub, toys, caregiving, roleplay, spanking, biting...

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Her bedroom. Yes, its a little bit plain, but it ensures privacy- plus you often need a good lie down afterwards ;)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

watching you be defiant. It really gets her going, and she loves grabbing your cheeks in one hand and squishing them together, making you stare at her, hissing ‘who do you think you’re talking to?’

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Narcissa doesn’t like to get overly messy. Yeah, she’s up for a bit of food play, but anything beyond that is a no-no for her

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

See ‘C’

She loves giving as well, often overstimulating you until you’re trying to shut your legs or push her away

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It all depends on the mood really. Sometimes it can be very slow and sensual, other times (especially when you need putting in your place) she can be very rough

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

She isn’t a big fan, and would rather just have ‘proper’ sex, wanting to make you come multiple times

That being said, if the opportunity arises, she will most certainly grab it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yep. If you’re trying something new, she’ll constantly ask to make sure you’re doing okay, that it feels good. if it just isn’t working, she’ll happily switch to something a little more familiar

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Ohoooo this woman can LAST. She’ll have you coming over and over again, and can manage a fair few orgasms herself before she starts getting worn out.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

See ‘D’

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Narcissa loves to tease you. Hence why she prefers to have proper sex rather than a quickie- she just loves to make you wait.

“Don’t pout at me, darling, or I’ll only make you wait longer,”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

She can be particularly noisy, gasping and moaning and praising you, making sure you know how good you make her feel. Her sounds get a little more high pitched when she comes

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

She loves giving you pet names. Some of her favourites include pet, sweetheart, darling, little one...

And she isn’t above calling you a slut either ;)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Narcissa is willowy, with gently curving hips and soft thighs. She often wears lace too, and always stockings held up by a garter belt.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I’d say it’s pretty average? If she’s horny, it can be a while before she actually fulfils her desires, preferring to get you sufficiently riled up.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

She doesn't, unless you do it late at night, or when you're both drunk. Instead, she’ll sit up with you, cuddling and chatting.

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @rangerelik @wonderwoman292 @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

#narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #narcissa Malfoy x reader #narcissa Malfoy x you #narcissa Malfoy x y/n #narcissa Malfoy smut #narcissa Malfoy headcanons #smut alphabet #2021

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Enough, For Now

CW: Sickfic, sick whumpee, feverish whumpee, shock collar, brief VERY vague emeto reference, child of whumpee POV, intimate/creepy whumper, noncon touching (nonsexual), noncon kiss (brief)

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with their permission.

"Oh, honey."

The little girl watches around the doorframe as her mother lays a soft hand over her father’s forehead. Her mother’s hair is a waterfall of darkness, the air between the trees on a starless night in the woods behind the house. Her father's is more like tree bark in sunlight, when she doesn't need to worry about what might be hiding in the woods, when they are allowed outside and she can run her fingers over the roughened texture and smell the air.

Sometimes, her father’s necklace - the thick black band he wears that her mother uses to hurt him - is changed so they can go into the woods. He carries her little brother, who is still a baby, and she walks alongside him proud to help carry things, and the three of them are alone with the whisper of the woods around them.

She saw a bluebird, once, singing. Her father had smiled, just a little, at the flutter of wings when she got too close and it took flight.

He’s not smiling now.

Her father lays on his side on the bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to the impeccably clean black-and-white tiles. His face is flushed and there’s a thin film of sweat sticking his shirt to the curves of his shoulders and stomach. It makes him shine under the gentle warm light even as he shivers, compulsively. When her mother’s hand touches his head, he tenses, just a little, but he still can’t stop shivering. "Miss S-Savvie-"

“Look at you.” Her mother’s voice is simpering-sweet, syrupy, like the maple syrup that her father pours on pancakes when they are alone in the mornings when her mother is out of the house. “Poor thing. I suppose this is because I took you to that party last week, isn’t it? You must have picked something up while we were there.”

The little girl remembers - a swirl of colorful dresses and jewelry, too many adults in too small a space. Everyone wanted to congratulate her mother on getting out of the house just a few months after Jamie was born. A person with a thin smile, who was impossibly elegant, had said her mother’s dress was lovely in a voice that didn’t seem like they meant it. Then they’d looked down at her, and something in their severity had softened.

They’d asked to take the little girl to play with their own child, who was in her bedroom because grown-up parties are pretty boring.

It had been fun, although she had been nervous to be away from her father so long, leaving him without her in the throngs of people and all the perfumes in the air. He’d been nervous, too, happy to sweep her into his arms at the end of the night and carry her to the car with her head on his shoulder, her mother’s hand at the small of his back.

Like a family.

Now, though, her father is sick, and her mother’s eyes are brilliant and sparkling as she presses two fingers into the space just underneath his ear, just behind his jaw. In a real family, the little girl thinks, maybe the mom doesn’t look happy to see the dad is too sick to move. He makes a sound almost like a whine, barely escaping, and the little girl swallows. Her own heart races to see how hard he works to open his eyes.

“Swollen lymph nodes,” Her mother murmurs. “Jax, did you manage to get the flu from someone? Honestly, sweetie, the first time you’ve gone out with me in two months and you get sick immediately?”

He turns his head to look up at Savvie, and the little girl doesn’t understand it exactly, but she loves the profile of his face because it is her father’s profile, the line of his nose and neck. His hazel eyes are fogged-over and hazy as he moves, and he might nuzzle into her hand, or he might simply hold still and her mother’s hand was already there.

Then he jerks away, just as quickly, and the little girl goes still and her heart stops with fear - he isn’t allowed to pull away, he isn’t allowed to not smile at her touch, he’ll be in so much trouble. Just as her mother’s eyes go wide their sparkle changes to sunlight off the darkest, deepest ice, Jax begins to cough.

The coughs wrack his body, and he barely covers his mouth. By the time it stops, the first hints of anger have fled her mother’s expression and it has softened again. She sighs and rubs at his back, in soothing soft circles. He drops his hands and turns back to her, a slight half-smile playing on his face, gone, back again.

Wavering, like he’s struggling to remember how to make it.

“‘M sorry, Miss… Miss Savvie,” He says, voice rasping and hoarse. “I-I’m not exactly sure… when I started to feel like this, but…”

Two days ago, the little girl knows. For two sleeps straight, her father’s body has been strange - too hot to the touch, and his hugs have been timid, as though he hurt too much inside to hug as fiercely as he usually did.

She knows. And he knows.

They don’t tell her mother.

He’s been on the bathroom floor all night. The little girl had found him there when she woke up - not in the big bathroom, but this smaller one in the hall next to her room - and had run to get her mother in her grand bedroom.

She never ever went in her mother’s room unless she was allowed to or asked, but she’d been so scared when he barely moved at her shaking his shoulder that she had forgotten the rule. He had laid there so pale and listless, collapsed on the cold floor.

For once, Savvie had not been angry. Instead, she had followed the little girl and told her to wait outside. For a few moments, Savvie had held her hand the way her father usually did, and the little girl had felt… like this was her mother.

But then… then she’d seen Jax. As always, in the little girl's life, the second her mother saw her father, the girl herself was forgotten. Her hand was dropped and she was told to stay out. So the little girl is left on the outside looking in, fingers curled around the doorframe, watching them together.

Her mother's pale pink chemise has a white lace trim that lays across her bare thigh, and her rounded nails are a soft deep mauve as she sighs and moves to kneel, touching his face just at his cheekbone, brushing it with the backs of her knuckles. She smiles, sweet and soft and loving. "It's not your fault, Jax. My poor sweet husband."

Jax only looks up at her, his hazel eyes glimmering and barely focused. But he looks only at her.

Even sick, he knows not to look away.

"But... why did you come all the way out here, honey?" Both her hands are on him now, one cupping his face and the other slipping behind his head, to lift it gently off the floor. "Oh, you're so sweaty. Gross.” Savvie's nose wrinkles, a little, and the little girl wonders if her own nose looks like that.

She hopes not.

"Got… Got sick." Her father breathes and it sounds wrong, somehow, too much air or not enough. "Didn't w-want to wake you. You have… an interview today." He coughs again, and Savvie has to let go for him to roll onto his side again and get the awful sounds out.

Savvie's smile widens. Her blue eyes shine so bright. "How thoughtful," She says, and runs her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, again and again. It looks like petting an animal, not trying to be kind to a man.

If he likes the touch or not, she can't tell. She thinks sometimes he hates every single one.

“Thought I’d feel b-better afterward,” He says, rough-voiced, eyes closed tightly. “Don’t.”

"Oh, sweetie." Savvie smiles and leans down, presses a kiss to his hair. He holds perfectly still for it. He doesn't even breathe. "I don't deserve you," She whispers, just loud enough for the little girl to hear. "But I'll love you forever anyway. Forever, Jax.”

His eyes open again, turning to look over her face as she pulls away, as though he’s checking for something, searching there. Whatever he finds, he relaxes, just a little. "Love you too, Miss Savvie," He says, and the little girl hears that it is flat, compared to how sometimes he hugs the little girl and says nice things to her. "Need… I just need a minute."

“Of course, darling. We’ll move you downstairs once you think you can walk.” Savvie keeps her fingers moving through his hair, sweaty or not.

His gaze shifts a little, and he sees the little girl for the first time. He tenses, eyes widening only slightly. "Is-..." He clears his throat. Both of them freeze at how close he comes to the nickname neither of them wants her to know. "Isabella? Why are you-"

"She woke me up," Savvie says, and slides to her knees, slipping her arms around him and carefully helping him to sit up. He leans heavily against her, so heavily Savvie nearly loses her balance, but she manages not to land in an undignified heap. “She saw you and came to get me. She knew you needed my help.”

The girl would have gone to anyone else, if there were anyone. But they’re here alone, and she isn’t allowed to touch the medicine.

One day, when she’s big enough, she will get him medicine all by herself and she won’t tell her mom anything at all.

“Thank-... thank you, Isabella,” Her father says, in this new sick-voice he has, and when he looks at her, for just a second some of the haze in his eyes is clear. He’s looking at her. It’s only for a second, before he turns back to her mother, and the little girl stores up the way he looked right at her, to save for later times when she is alone. He turns back to Savvie and says, “And th-thank you for coming, Miss Savvie.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Savvie shifts, and the little girl watches as the two of them very slowly stand, Jax working to get his legs under him, standing finally in a way that seems tentative, ready to tip back over at the slightest nudge. His eyes close and his face greys, and the three of them are briefly silent, waiting it out, until the dizziness passes and his eyes open again. “You’re right, though. I do have that interview, and I can’t just be thinking about you, I need to plan… let’s get you downstairs for today. I’ll bring James down once you’re settled.”

There’s a pause, full of meaning and thought the girl doesn’t know how yet to read. “Can… can H-Hannah come to watch them with m-me, or Isaac’s steward, please?” He rarely speaks so many words all at once, unless they’re alone in the sunshine room, where he tells her all the stories about his own family, far far away across an ocean.

Those are the secret stories, the ones that the little girl knows to never let her mother know she’d heard of.

He’s not supposed to think about his other family anymore. Her mother says that she made that rule so he wouldn’t leave the little girl and her brother. He never wanted you, anyway. If I told him he could, he’d walk right out the door and leave us all heartbroken, Isabella. So we have to make sure he never thinks of them, so he can’t leave us.

The little girl is scared that her father might leave, if he could. That her mother’s words are true. But she loves the way he smiles when he tells his stories much, much more than she is scared - and he has promised her, over and over with his arms around her, that he would never leave her here alone.

Now, though, Savvie just rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Jax. How is my uncle’s household supposed to stay in order if you keep trying to steal away half his staff?”

They’re near the door and the girl backs away quickly to stay out of their way, not quite ignored but not needed, either. She watches them move, her mother’s arm around her father’s waist to help him stay upright, and the way he moves so carefully, so slowly, beside her.

The medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom, but her mother doesn’t go back for it. Instead, she leads Jax away entirely, towards the grand curving staircase that moves down to the ground floor. The little girl watches, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before she realizes what’s happening.

An interview day.

That means her father will spend the day in the basement where no one can hear him - that must be where her mother is taking him, to be hidden away. The little girl licks nervously at her lips, and then flies back into the bathroom. There isn’t anything she can stand on in here, but when she climbs up on the side of the bathtub, she can grab the sink and hold, arms shaking with effort as she pulls herself up.

The cabinet opens for her easily, as she totters, barely balanced on the rounded, shining edge of the sink. Their voices are fading as they move downstairs, her mother’s voice mostly.

Almost entirely.

The little girl finds what she’s looking for - the last time her father was sick, he was allowed a packet of these little discs that come inside a box. The girl can’t read, but she knows the sun and moon signs on the packages, one for day and one for night. She grabs the whole thing, and then looks down, ready to climb-

Oh.

Oh, it’s farther down than she thought.

Her heart shivers in fear - but sometimes you have to do scary things, her father says it all the time when he tells her he is proud of her after her mother locks her in the dark for time out. This is a scary thing, but-

She jumps.

She crashes hard into the tile floor and lets out a high-pitched cry of pain, rolling along the ground. A bright ache flashes in her knee and arm from how she landed, and she presses her lips together to silence any further sounds. They’re swallowed into whimpers that don’t make it further than the door.

Still, she hears her father call, “Isabella?” He’s worried, he heard her, and the little girl stands back up, clutching the box of medicine with white knuckles on her small hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” She calls back, voice shaky, but she tries to sound fine. It will be much worse for her if her mother thinks she wants attention she’s not supposed to have.

“See? She’s fine,” Savvie says, and their steps fade again. The little girl moves with a focus rarely seen in small children to her room, where she picks up a soft little-kid backpack that is pink and lacey. Her mother picked it. She hates it. In the backpack she stashes some crackers and juice, and on top she puts her favorite stuffed animal, and some crayons. Finally, she forces in a coloring book. Then she moves out into the hall.

Her brother isn’t awake yet, no sound from his room, so she moves like a ghost down the staircase, following her parents to the closet with the hidden door. The door is already open, the wooden steps leading down and down and down. It’s scary, to take each step with the single light leaving so many shadows around, shadows that could have monsters hiding in them.

But sometimes, you have to do scary things.

She sets her jaw and lets her chin jut out, raised a little, and makes her slow and careful way down into the chilly basement, where the secret house is. The little place that her father has to hide, when people who aren’t ‘the right people’ come over, so that the ‘wrong people’ won’t know he’s here.

Her mother is already laying her father down in the little bedroom at the back of the basement place. It's so dark it feels like nighttime in there. She can hear them speaking, but not their words, and she tries to be very good and sits very quietly on the couch, out in what looks like a tiny little living room with a television in it, to wait.

"Thank you, Miss Savvie," She hears, low and rough. "I l-love you, Miss Savvie."

The little girl winces, gripping the little brightly colored cardboard box with sweaty fingers that start to dampen the ink. Love is a wrong word. It's a word of threats and anger, of making things better by being good.

Her mother's voice is low, and soft, heavy with something the little girl is too young to know. "I love you, too, sweetie. Feel better."

There's silence.

The seconds draw out, and every single one of them is awful.

Then, her mother murmurs, "I suppose we should stop. I'd hate for me to get sick, too. I'll bring James down once he's up and it'll be just you and the kids. That'll be restful."

He hums, and the silence draws out again, and then she sweeps past the little girl and away without even looking at her. Up the steps, up and up, and the little girl knows they are locked up down here, like always.

Once her mother is for real gone, the little girl moves, silent as any ghost, down the hall herself, leaving her backpack on the couch. In the bedroom her father lays on his side, coughing a little, mostly just shakes of his shoulders. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and coughs again. The room is all dark except for the light in the hallway that frames her when he catches the motion of her shadow and looks up.

He manages a slight, faint smile. "Izzy. Did you follow us?”

“Yes.” Izzy’s voice is soft and grave. “I didn’t want her to need to bring me and get mad.”

He closes his eyes, just for a second, and nods. “I get it. What've you got there?"

She moves up to the bed and shoves the box into one of his hands. The sweat from her hands has buckled the thin cardboard but the packages inside are still good. "Medicine for your sick."

He stares down at the box, blinking. "Alka-Seltzer Severe Flu," he reads, and then meets her eyes. Theirs nearly match - hazel brown for both. “Izzy, honey, you’re not allowed-” The next round of coughing hits and Izzy scrambles up onto the bed, pulling herself up and moving around behind him, rubbing at his back with her hand like he does when it’s her that’s sick. Her mother’s hands move in circles, like the snake’s eyes in The Jungle Book movie, but her father is a straight line down, lifts up, starts at her shoulder blades and down again.

Izzy presses her lips together in concentration and comforts him just the same way. She whispers, “It’s okay, Daddy, you can cough down here, it’s okay.”

There are tears running out of his eyes when he is finally able to stop, and he’s closed his hand so tightly on the box he crushed it in the middle. He jerks in a breath, then another, and gradually the tremors through his body fade. She keeps rubbing his back. “The-... sound. Was that… was that you getting the medicine?”

She licks at her lips, and whispers, “I’m sorry. You’re sick. I didn’t know what, um, what to do-”

“It’s okay. Hey, I’m not mad. I’m not. C’mere.” He rolls onto his back and holds one arm out in invitation, and she snuggles up to his side, skin burning hot through his clothes but still her father, through and through. “I’m not mad. You’re…” He coughs but this round is short and doesn’t seem to hurt him so much. “You’re a good kid, Iz. D’you know that? Not just a good kid, you’re a good fu-, uh… A good person, too.”

Izzy, who is told every day by her mother that she is not a good child, holds onto these soft loving words and buries them inside herself, a barrier against her mother’s sweet-voiced violence.

“I’ve got you, Daddy,” She says, an unconscious echo of his reassurances to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you, okay? You just lay down and do rest.”

He doesn’t answer. His chest moves, inhaling like he wants to speak, but then he only breathes out again and turns his head to kiss her over her curly brown hair.

In a minute, she’ll get up and get him a water cup, and watch with him as the little discs fizz and turn to nothing and make sure he drinks every single bit to feel better. Her mother will bring James down, and Izzy will be the best big sister and her father’s helper and keep Jamie quiet and happy while Jax sleeps, and feels bad for having to sleep, and then sleeps some more.

But for now, in the silence and chill of the little space in the basement where Savvie hides them when other people come who might take her father away from her, Izzy holds on to his shirt and his arm is tight around her shoulders.

If a tear soaks into her hair where his cheek rests on her scalp, she doesn’t notice.

All she knows is his heartbeat, against her ear, and the steady certainty of his love for her, and her love for him. In a house where they have nothing else, that’s enough.

For her, anyway.

For now.

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( LOVED YOU BETTER. )

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.

pairing. kth x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life. an angst angel food cake with a fluffy, strawberry centre. general.

tags / warnings. minor (ish) character death, heartbreak, kim taehyung is bad at feelings, summer romance, abandonment issues, moving on, healing. idk.

wc. 4.3k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif @snackhobi @midnighttifa 💖 i love y’all!

author note. this was written for the 'a long hot summer' event hosted by @thebtswritersclub. my member was taehyung (obviously!) with the sense being sight. this is my first project for a net, so i hope you enjoy it! 💖

He spends most of his childhood in Lyon, skirting the rivers in search of inspiration. It isn’t Paris, his mother tells him, but it’s just as lovely - quieter and more peaceful. She insists, one day, she’ll take him home, where his maternal grandparents are buried and she’ll show him all the parts of her world.

The first time he paints - eleven years old, seated at the edge of the Saône with a brush held between his teeth and pigment smearing his hands - his mother is delighted. He fills the house with his works: pretty watercolours that mimic the blue of the river, the white of boats, the amber of the sky. She loves them and she loves him and she tells him day in and day out, offering praise as readily as he offers his heart on canvas.

He’s sixteen when he migrates stateside, to where his father grew up and his mother’s accent stands out. He hates it there. It’s boring and bland and it stifles his imagination. There are no sail boats, no rivers, no pretty girls. The days turn grey and so does his mother, as if she’d left the best parts of herself back in France. She still tells him she loves him, promises that they’ll go back someday.

At twenty-one, he learns love isn’t real. His father files for divorce and his mother withers away. When he goes, he packs his bags and doesn’t look back. It’s a slamming door in an already abandoned home. Beautiful as it might be, love is nothing but infatuation - fleeting and easily broken and fit only for the books that line the study. It exists truly, wholly, only in the blood that runs in his veins.

At twenty-two, he realises absolutely nothing lasts, for his mother leaves too, taking her lilting laughter and rose perfume with her, buried six feet under soil she’d never called home. Her death is a nail in the door, sealing his childhood shut.

His father does not attend the funeral. Hardly anyone does.

The paintings - lovely portraits of her wide eyes and full lips, of Parisian sunsets and paved streets - are all he has. They serve as memories, painful reminders of the woman his mother once was, of the life he’d once lived. They fill the house that’s no longer a home - hasn’t been, for years - tucked away in a room he refuses to enter.

His mother had called him her petit choux because he was born with dough-soft cheeks, sweet as pie. As he grew older, the name stuck - even if the fat hadn’t, slipping off his face with each passing year. By the time he’s eighteen, he’s uncut edges rather than honey brioche. At twenty-seven, he’s hardened far more than she would’ve ever expected of her beloved boy. He is week old bread, stale and hard to the teeth.

But he is still her petit choux and he thinks she’d love him regardless.

So Kim Taehyung promises to go back. For her - to find all the pieces she’d left behind and fashion them back together. What he doesn’t expect is to meet you along the way.

He discovers you on a day that scorches his bones, Parisian sun shimmering pavement and cobblestone. You are a whirlwind of colour, every shade of the rainbow presented in the glory of your smile. You treat the Seine like a lover, living at the edges of its shores with bare feet and bare legs and a bare face that begs to be memorised.

You laugh and it’s radiant, pealing bells that ring in his ears long after noon has struck.

You call him mon chéri like it means something.

It reminds him of his mother and he wonders whether she ever did these same things, dancing across the grass with an apricot caught between her teeth. He hopes so.

“Come, come,” you coax, with a mouth that threatens to tear his chest wide open. It presents pretty, in shades of ruby and wine; it draws him in, sticky sweet, and he’s defenseless to your whims. He goes where you go, following the flow of your hair, the curtain that draws back and has him seeing in technicolour.

He laughs when you laugh, smiles when you smile. You bring him to all the places he’s never been: the cobbled streets his mother once roamed, the darkened bars filled with champagne, the sunlit warmth of your bedroom where wisteria branches hang low. He paints you in all of them - sweeping watercolours into the silk of your hair, the curve of your lips, the swell of your hips when his palms grip them tight.

You’re an ingenue, a muse, everything he’s ever wanted. But he doesn’t love you - because love doesn’t exist. Not in the ways they portray on the silver screen, with heartfelt declarations and bundles of overflowing roses. He can’t give you those things; he’s grateful you don’t ask.

Sometimes, he thinks you might dare to. Can see it lurking in the lovely shade of your stare, how you study him when you think he isn’t watching. Furtive glances, made beneath the thick line of your lashes, behind the brocade of your sun-drenched strands.

But he’s Kim Taehyung and he’s always watching - always aware. He hates to miss a single thing.

Don’t ask me to love you, he tells you without words.

“Should we go to Lyon for the weekend?”

You’re draped across the bed, drenched in lavender and warm like baked pastry. Your tongue licks cream from your lips, sweetness touched with honey. He drinks in your every movement, dedicating them to canvas. There’s a freckle on your knee and another just below. One more on your ankle and three along the top of your foot. A constellation he hasn’t named yet.

“No,” he answers, devoid of the same delight that frolics behind your teeth.

“Why not?” You press, because it��s what you do - forcing each button until you find the one that stirs something to life within him. A coin-operated boy, rusty and in terrible disrepair. He thinks you’d be wary of the bright red warning light but you seem almost colourblind, looking through rose-tinted glasses that dress all of his actions in warmth he doesn’t deserve.

He doesn’t answer, sweeping his brush back and forth. Lilac filters into water, a lovely shade that grows lighter and lighter with each pass of bristles. It’s not quite the same as your dress - a silk creation that begs to live on your skin - but it’s close enough. He’ll settle for it.

It reminds him of the flowers in the garden back home. Back when his mother was alive and she still breathed life into the greenery, trimming stems and drying petals.

“I don’t want to.” A simple enough answer.

You wait for him to elaborate, pouting and pleading like you might break him down with the sheer force of your beauty. If he were any lesser man, you might have.

“Please,” you purr, too persuasive for your own good. You’d settle into his lap, twist his honey strands between your fingers, if not for the stare he levels you with. One that screams be good and stay still because the last thing he wants is you ruining the painting. He doesn’t want to start all over and the light is already waning, sun lost somewhere behind drooping branches and the gauzy softness of your drapes.

“No.”

“Please.”

Brush to water, then to colour. A sweet orange - the flesh of a fresh cantaloupe without seeds. “No.”

“Mon chéri—”

He booms out “No!” like a cannon. It’s akin to being scolded, stilling the playfulness in your hands. You’re ignorant to all the reasons he refuses to indulge you but you think of it as nothing but selfishness, a cold you can’t weather. One you refuse to when flowers are in full bloom and the air outside lays a salt-crown atop your brow. This is your kingdom, your rightful place - you bow to no one.

You stiffen, rise from the bed in a motion that disrupts every part of him. Motions still, knuckles white. No no no. You’re ruining it. You’re ruining—

“Get out.”

Taehyung can’t quite believe his ears - staring at you in such aghast you almost laugh right in his face. He has the audacity to perform such theatrics after yelling at you? How dare he! It enrages you, brings your blue blood to a boil beneath your skin.

“Pardon?” The sound rolls, trips, and stumbles, dirt on his palms and knees as he stares up at you.

“I said get out, mon chéri.” You’ve unbuttoned the rumpled shirt - his, with his initials embroidered across the cuff - allowing it to drop from your shoulders and into his lap. He glares down at it, stained now with the watercolours in his palette. It’d be pretty if it weren’t so infuriating.

“I’m not done.”

You tch, a derisive sound that bites worse than your love, your nails painted in Chanel. “I don’t care.”

“I’m not done,” he repeats, perhaps a little lost. It crawls out between his teeth, a lost man seeking solace. He needs to finish this. He hasn’t painted you this way yet, bathed in faded light. It’s an empty slot in his album of memories. He can’t let it go.

You’re unrepentant, dismissive. A table turned. “I don’t care.”

He hates you then. He doesn’t realise how close the emotion is to love.

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, lost itself to the wind and the rivers. He only knows, suddenly, he was not a boy but a man, a miserable soldier made to walk the plank. He thinks it might’ve been when she died, taking the last traces of his youth with her. Gone was the innocence, the gentility, the voraciousness; all at once, the ease - the glory, the good - had evaporated, leaving in its place a broken boy too angular, too angry.

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, but he remembers all too well when her death had eclipsed the light, leaving him in perpetual darkness.

It makes sense then - that his whole life is a charnel house, built on the foundation of someone else’s bones. It’s only fitting it becomes a memorial to a long-gone mother, a weeping wife, a star burnt out too soon.

He’s somehow still surprised when his kingdom - formidable, impenetrable, guarded - comes crumbling down, an overgrown old city ruined. As if he’d expected those skeletons to hold him forever, to carry the weight of his desolation within their hollows. He begs for absolution when it falls beneath a thousand leagues, lost to saltwater and liquor. He drowns within it and it seeps, sticks, stirs - catching in his stare and trembling his fingers.

Nostalgia comes like ghosts - old men lost at sea.

They’re dim, twilight, held behind a heavy fog. Old memories on a carousel ride, spinning in perpetual motion. They’re snapshots of his mother, his youth, his home. They pass too quickly; he can never catch them.

Years old misery claws its way up his chest and he chokes on it each night, lying awake listening to the city groan, straining like a dying beast on its last legs. He misses her, he misses you, he misses the person he used to be. He aches for it - a nameless thing just out of reach.

Something Taehyung begs and cries for until he’s blue in the face.

Something you’d given him, in the form of kisses and promises. Something he’d only shoved you down into the dirt for - right where she was. Because no one kept promises, and he didn’t want to hate you later. (For loving, for leaving.)

Instead, he hates himself, and that is a neater, cleaner way to end the story.

He is bereft, drifting between days he has neither the desire nor wherewithal to consider.

He sees women just like you - girls that run barefoot through the grass, fancying themselves dancers, muses, inspirations. They laugh, they kiss, they cite vague poetry. They preen when he asks to paint them, throwing exaggerated shapes with the lines of their necks, the flutter of their lashes.

Still, none of them are you - too soft and rounded.

None possess the same insolence, polite phrases toeing the line of sophisticate and street urchin. They are all wind-up ballerinas, dancing on rotation, with smiles not right, too tight. They’re too flat, too freckled, reminiscent of rotting cherries and mint-green Ladurée bags you’d scoff at. They leave his canvases better off bare, boring and one-dimensional. Taehyung resents them.

But he doesn’t love you, and he tells himself that whenever he misses you.

A victim of ennui, he slips into a pattern he abhors. Supine lounging in the evenings, preceded only by listless wandering during the long hours of the day. He drifts with the rise and fall of the sun, eyes blind to the beauty around him.

Nothing feels quite right anymore - not in the way it used to. There are no memories of his mother, no sweet tales told by a ghost. It’s empty empty empty, only shit-stained streets and hollow bodies.

He prays for an answer, a sign, anything.

It comes in the form of you - nearly three weeks later, beneath a stream of sunlight that casts you in chiaroscuro. For the first time, he itches to paint. The need thrums in his fingers, a million little nerve endings firing off. He itches to touch you too, but he ignores that, shoves it into the deepest, darkest recess of his thoughts as he can. He needs to focus on one thing and one thing only: doing what he came here to do.

“Bonjour.” It comes bare, undressed and vulnerable. By the look on your face, it isn’t what you want.

You twist away, entire body angling uncomfortably in your effort to ignore him. “What do you want?” You’re cruel, capricious - a god looking upon a lowly farmhand with no offering. It stings in a way it shouldn’t, pulls his expression into a frown before he can mask it.

That’s better, you think. He can practically read the smug emotion dancing in those pretty irises.

“You haven’t called.”

“Neither have you.”

“You told me to leave.”

“And you left.”

For every excuse, you have a rebuttal. It’s a game of chess he’s bound to lose. It’s as frustrating as it is enticing, stirring something warm and heavy in the cavity behind his ribs. A little hummingbird come to life, wings beating relentlessly and kicking up all the dust of his childhood trauma.

“I’m sorry.” It’s hardly an apology, too greedy to come the way it should. Taehyung does this for himself, for his promise, for memories he refuses to let go.

You see right through him. “Are you?”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Tell me what you’re sorry for.”

The words I am are poised on his tongue and reduced to ash with your question. He’s never had to try so hard a day in his life. It feels wrong, messy, awful. Every part of him compels him to rebel - to wax poetic about the things he’s done right, how what you’re asking is too much. I cannot love you, he thinks.

“I thought so.” There’s nothing but disdain in your stare, turning it sharp like a knife that threatens to glide through his armour. “You’re selfish, Kim Taehyung. All you want is to take and take and take. You refuse to give.”

You’re not wrong. He wears his sadness like a solid steel plate; it curls around his vertebrae, writhing in his belly until he’s full, aching, complete. He doesn’t know how to exist without it, apart from it. It keeps him safe, satisfied, out of harm’s way. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

As you leave, he wonders whether it’s worth it.

Six long days pass. Six too many, drawn out and miserable. He aches to create, to sketch, to paint. He calls you in a moment of weakness; you come, nonetheless.

“What do you want?” You repeat, mouthful of thorns and scar tissue.

This time Taehyung has an answer. He’s ready, confident in his recital. It spills forth loosely, with abstract brazenness. “I want you.” There’s no room for uncertainty, zero leeway to be found in between the syllables. It’s the most sincere he’s been all season, made true by the summer sun and your focused, unyielding stare.

“You want moi?” It’s a dance with the devil - question poised like a hand. “Do you even know what wanting someone means?” You’re steady, unwavering, just as he is.

He hesitates then, just barely, with a tick of his jaw, fingers curling around nothing. You take that as weakness, delicate mouth curling into a sneer. He sees it - all the I told you so’s poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to silence him. He beats you to it, crashing his mouth against yours with a recklessness that thrums in his veins, sending his heart on a wild chase for that something.

He’s spent his whole life in pursuit of a feeling, a spectre, a bittersweet memory. He thinks he might’ve lost himself along the way.

“I want you. I want you - and us.”

What he means to say is he wants all the things that come with it: the bratty rebuttals, the early morning eagerness, the taste of you every night. He wants the eyelashes on his pillow case, the lipstick stains, the scent of your perfume - citrus and nectarine blossom, cocoa butter, fresh cream. He wants the trips to the countryside, the new memories, the paintings full of you. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything. He needs it like he needs air, light, art.

He needs you - his muse.

He tells you, shamelessly, around a lump that forms in his throat and makes it hard to breathe. “We’ll go to Lyon. If you want to go, we’ll go.”

The place where he grew up is different, wrapped in ivy and devoid of light. Windows are drawn and everything leans grey, weeds sprouting beneath his expensive leather loafers. They curl around his ankles, creep up the back of his knees; they threaten to crush him beneath their weight. He imagines his insides look the same - neglected and vacant.

He wishes he hadn’t come. This isn’t his home, his kingdom, his heart. Not anymore.

“Come, mon chéri,” you hum, stirring him from his reverie, pulling his thoughts through the seven circles of Hell until he’s back in the present, stiff at your side with your fingers interlaced. You offer an affectionate smack of your lips - wine-stained and pretty - to his cheek. He does not soften.

“Let’s go.” It comes despite himself, before he can help it, in a voice that isn’t his. It’s too soft, too unsure - fifteen years younger and vulnerable.

You regard him closely, with a careful narrow of your stare. He can read the pity there, the frustration that swims in the depths - circling sharks seeking out the scent of his blood. It’s inescapable. He wishes you’d stop. He doesn’t need you to lecture him.

Misery rises, licks up his throat like bile, and he worries it might spill out, red as the crimson sea. Part of him wants it to - a defense mechanism he can’t control; the other part of him knows he should swallow it down. He has no reason to fight you.

“Come,” you repeat, and he’s defenseless, lost to your siren song. He steps back in time, white-knuckled and terrified.

There are no longer peonies in the kitchen, nor roses in the front hall. Dust settles over every surface, dry soil kicked up beneath his feet.

Taehyung tries to recall the way his mother would busy herself in the garden, bent over her flowers like an altar. How her knees were perpetually scarred, dirt caught beneath her nails, dark hair a braided wreath worn like a crown. It was the only time she was anything but composed - full of light and laughter and a love for the alive. He’d eat breakfast with her in the front yard, a shadow that would follow her every move. Back and forth, he’d go - on his feet, with his brush, in his thoughts.

Every painting was of her - of tulips and daisies, bare ankles and sun-kissed skin. The shape of her mouth, the freckle on her nose. Her delight when his father would come home.

He swears he smells her perfume now, standing in the place he’d grown up. He’s reminded of hot coffee and fresh bread, her fluttering laughter and brass watering can. He’ll dream about it for days, memories rolling like a Super 8 film through his mind.

He cries I’m fine when he isn’t. You hold him until he is.

You sleep together on a Sunday afternoon.

When you wake, the sun is low on the horizon and you’re the prettiest Taehyung’s ever seen you, features thrown in stark relief. You’re salt-sweet and striking, dressed in linen whites and the shape of his mouth.

He paints the pale soles of your feet, drawn against your leg, and the shade of your nails, a pretty colour he attributes to springtime and sonnets. He indulges in the sound of your voice, soft and hazy in his ear. You kiss him like he isn’t broken and you taste like memories - ones he hasn’t made yet, but desperately wants to. He is both sinking and floating, as if you’ve taken his heart from his chest and hold it, beating, somewhere high above his head.

He carries your perfume for weeks after, heavy on his skin. Lingering, like you’ve become a part of him, like he’s fallen in love.

Kim Taehyung had once surrounded himself with beautiful things - paintings and drawings and girls. He’d thought if he fenced himself in with all things good, there would be no cracks for the outside world - the real world, full of misery and deceit - to seep through. He’d kept his hands occupied by brushes, by thorns, by a million little material things.

He hadn’t realised all he needed was yours, warm in his.

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.

The confession comes at the end of summer, edges past the cage of his teeth into the quiet of the evening. It comes and comes, so softly he thinks you might laugh, corners of your eyes wrinkling like the sheets in which you’re bare.

Maybe it’s the way your hair falls over your shoulders, a curtain he aches to part, to feel beneath his hands. Maybe it’s the way you look at him with hungry eyes and wet lips and teeth that could crumble all of his walls as if they were made of papier-mache.

Maybe it’s just you, skin like silk and eyes like the night sky.

“I think I love you,” Taehyung states, careful, with his entire heart in his hands.

“You think?

He nods, although he mustn’t. He can’t, he reminds himself.

And yet he does, because there is no denying how well you fit each other’s curves, the truth that you are two pieces of the same puzzle. He wakes up early each day with the taste of you still on his tongue, the memory of you seared into his palms. Your body has become his home and it is real, flesh and blood, not broken bones buried six feet under.

You fill his silence with your laughter; it sounds like redemption and feels like hope.

Before he knows it, seasons change.

Autumn becomes a waiting room, a time between the unyielding heat of summer and the unbearable cold of winter. Taehyung loves the quiet of it, the progression as steady as the chill that creeps beneath his clothes, within his bed - everywhere but in his head.

He remembers his mother, his home, all the things he’s lost. He pays homage to the woman who had raised him right but left too soon. He finds the places she’d told him about and folds secrets into their corners. He creates new memories, introducing his present to his past. You call her mamman and tell her not to worry, promising that you’ll take care of him.

He lives beneath the fading leaves that serve as a benchmark for which to measure the growth he’s undergone. He imagines his life in film, in rolling scenes laid out in sepia tones. He imagines weeks passing by and versions of himself doing the things he loves most.

Laid out under the copper sky, your head in his lap and a brush in his hands. He doesn’t need to look at you - can fit you among the pages purely from memory. The turn of your smile, the twinkle in your stare, the little freckle just beneath your lip. He sees you in his dreams and he commits them to paper, filling his sketchbook as you fill his thoughts.

Wandering the streets, hand in hand, guided by your laughter and the smell of warm pastry. Bare legs, echoing footsteps, the sight of your smile when he’s said something particularly funny. You cry Mon chéri! and force a cherry between his lips, savouring the tart taste under the afternoon sun.

Upon your balcony, skin searing beneath high noon and the feel of your mouth. He lets you paint him - sits terribly still as you show him who he really is - stripping his pretenses with each pass of your brush. He is bare but not broken, a beautiful boy painted in earth tones and paired with intense eyes.

Taehyung tells you your painting is beautiful and that he loves it - that he loves you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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tired0artist · 4 years ago

Text

not enough (part one)

>part two<

paring: female!V x Johnny Silverhand

warnings: angst, coma, alcoholism, drug use, amnesia (there will be a happy-ish ending so don’t worry too much)

summary: after the whole shit show in mikoshi, V got out with her body and mind. but also an engram of the one and only Johnny fucking Silverhand and some good information. after months of planning she finally did what she promised to do.

note: okay so. I will be describing V as how my V looks like. but I will try to keep it to a minimum and you can just switch things up in your head as you read <3

————<•>————

Music was blasting just few rooms away and V could even feel the floor vibrating a bit. But it didn’t matter to her, as she held a warm hand in hers.

V looked up and smiled at the face of the man who only months ago was a parasite in her brain. A parasite turned friend. And later...

Her mind continued to replay their last conversation over and over again, during all this time without him.

“You will have to leave now, if you want to go back to your body” said Alt. Or rather what was left of her.

“But what about Johnny?! Can you get him back on the chip?” V asked, feeling desperate to know.

“V no. You leave this shit hole and live your fucking life. Don’t you even dare to try to put me into some fuckers head” Johnny said, arms crossed as he for a millionth time tried to tell V to just go on. But of course. When did the young nomad ever listen to him.

“Shut up Johnny! I was talking to Alt!” she yelled not even glancing at him as her eyes stayed trained on the woman.

“I can do it. During your useless banter I got inside Arasaka’s network. It seems they still have the body of Robert Johnathan Linden”

V was confused for a second why the guy mattered, when suddenly she got a flash of an very old memory from Johnny. Along with some embarrassment and anger.

Before she could question him, he pointed his finger at her saying “Don’t you even dare. Not a word, got it?”

She smirked but turned back to Alt “Okay where is it?”

“Outside the city. Nomad’s territory. It’s an old, private lab” Alt said.

“Okay I’ll find it”

“V—“

She turned towards Johnny saying “Not a fucking word got it? You promised to save my life and I said that I would take a bullet for you. This is the bullet Johnny”

He simply stared at her, before nodding “Alright, you fucking stubborn nomad. Just don’t kill yourself in the process, or we’ll be having words here. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Now Alt, do I simply put the chip in his body?”

“Yes. But I have to warn you. During his time on your head, the chip got damaged. I fixed what I could but there are still some cracks”

“The fuck does that mean?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing too important. Slight memory loss or complete memory whipe of the time inside V”

“What...?” V asked, her heart dropping quite a bit. She wanted him to remember her. Remember them.

“Shit... okay I can live with that” Johnny said and walked over to V.

“But—“

“Shut up for a hot minute, kid. Now. I want to remember this time with you as well, no matter how boring it really was in the beginning. But if I won’t, then you’ll just have to tell me. And charm my pants off, again”

She laughed “Did I really charm your pants off? I don’t recall seeing you without them”

Johnny didn’t laugh, instead he leaned in and kissed her. It felt weird as they were technically data, but still it was perfect to them.

When he finally pulled away he just whispered “You sure did, sweetheart...”

“Johnny... I—“

“Shh... I know. Tell me up there in the world”

V nodded and said “I’ll help you remember. I promise, Johnny”

He smirked and touched her hand with his “I know, you stubborn nomad. Just know that... I’m sorry for how I might be when I wake up. Don’t be afraid to slap me if I really go overboard okay?”

“I handled a dick version of you who was trying to kill me once. I think that I’ll manage”

He laughed and nodded “You sure did... just V... I don’t want to be like that anymore. I don’t want to be in a room full of my friends who can’t stand me. I don’t want to be in a room with you and see you hate me...”

“I’ll never hate you Johnny. I’ll be there for you at all times no matter how much of a dick you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I trust you, sweetheart”

“Your time is up. You need to leave, take the chip with you” said Alt and before V could react she was back in her body.

V was staring at his hand again, her thumb drawing circles on it just as the door opened.

“Alright. That’s enough kid, you’re going out”

With a deep sigh V turned to see both Rouge and Kerry standing in the door.

“No. I’m waiting for him to wake up”

Kerry took a few steps towards the merc and put his hand on her shoulder “Rouge is right, V. You need to get out a bit, you’ve been here for two weeks”

She was silent as her grip over Johnny’s hand tightened.

“Please, honey. Let’s go for a walk at least. Or a ride to get something to eat” Kerry tried again, the worry on his face clearly visible.

“You won’t help Johnny if he wakes up to you looking like a corpse, at his bedside. So get your shit together, V” Rouge said. Even through her words here cutting, there was clear worry in her eyes.

V finally nodded and put Johnny’s hand back on the bed, as she stood up. Well tried to stand up. Because as soon as she moved, her head spun and Kerry had to catch her, before she smashed her head.

“Are you alright?” Kerry asked in pure worry as the nomad’s violet eyes almost rolled into her head.

“No she’s not. Come on, you we need to get her something to eat. I’m driving” Rouge said as she walked out the door, with Kerry picking up V and following her.

After that incident, both Kerry and Rouge were taking V out to eat and sleep out side the room in Afterlife where Johnny was.

Kerry basically moved V into his villa, along with her’s and Johnny’s cat. And Rouge was constantly getting V to sit beside her for at least few hours at Afterlife, as she was dealing with some mercs. Just to get her out of that room.

Judy and Panam also were constantly calling and messaging V, after Kerry and Rouge contacted them and told them what’s going on with the merc.

Panam came to sit around with V in the Afterlife. The bad blood between her and Rouge was quickly forgotten after the older woman saw how Panam was caring for the other nomad.

Judy preferred to visit V at Kerry’s villa whenever he was leaving. She didn’t even let the merc go to the bathroom alone, instead staying out side the door and getting V to keep the conversation going through the door.

One evening V and Kerry were sitting on one of his couches, with him playing and humming the same relaxing song that he did on the yacht.

“Hey, Kerry?” V asked as she stared at the way his fingers moved on the guitar.

“Yes, honey?” he asked immediately his eyes were on her.

She looked up and asked “Can you... uh... teach me how to play? I was thinking that maybe... Johnny would enjoy some music aside from the muffled banging at the Afterlife”

He smiled and his eyes got brighter as he nodded and moved closer to the young woman, saying “Of course! Okay so for now you’ll watch, then we’ll get you to try”

A week later, the nomad was already playing the one song that she learned on the guitar that she got from Kerry. She was even humming along as she sat in Johnny’s room, her long black nails now short and her fingers covered by bandaids from how hard she was learning.

She grinned and said to him, while playing “I know that I’m shitty. But you told me that it was all about the feeling or whatever”

V looked down at the guitar and started playing once again, when suddenly she saw Johnny’s fingers twitch. She immediately stopped and put the guitar aside, rushing to his side and taking his organic hand in hers.

“Johnny? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand”

There was nothing for a while, but then she saw him frown a bit.

Immediately she called Victor and told him to come, the same thing with Rogue and Kerry. She stayed by Johnny’s side, telling him to squeeze her hand and that he’s safe, that his friends will be there soon. That she’s with him.

Rouge was the first one to arrive, as she was already in Afterlife. She walked over to V asking.

“Did anything happen?”

“His fingers are twitching every now and then, he’s also frowning whenever I tell him to squeeze my hand” V explained as she moved to caress Johnny’s hair, that she kept trimmed the same way it was when he was in her head. Same goes for the beard.

As her hand moved to to tuck a stray hair behind his ear, he let out a sigh and stopped frowning, his whole body relaxing.

“Well damn... it’s like he’s responding to your touch, kid” Rouge said, while sitting on the couch in the room observing the still unconscious man.

V’s eyes went wide as Rouge smirked, the nomad looked back to the rocker boy and whispered “I’m here Johnny, just come back to me. I still need to kick your ass for making me wait so goddamn long, and for that time when you smashed my head against the window. And no. Just because you were nice later, doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook old man”

Victor arrived soon with Kerry following. As the ripperdoc worked, the others waited. V and Kerry were both pacing, being the “impatient assholes” as Rouge called them. But the Queen of the Afterlife was also getting a bit impatient, which caused her to lit up a cigarette.

“The fuck is this...?”

Everyone in the room stopped and looked at the blinking and confused rocker-boy in the room. He raised a bit to take in his surroundings.

“Johnny...” V said and came forward with Kerry following.

For a moment Johnny stared at V in silence, then he looked down at him organic hand and back at her saying.

“I know you... you’re V”

Just as V was ready to let out a breath of relief, Johnny added.

“You’re the chick who was here with me the whole time. The one who played that shitty music today... or was it yesterday? I don’t fucking know... so what you’re a fan or some shit? Or did we fuck once?”

Everyone went still in the room, even Kerry stopped smiling as he looked at V with worry. The merc’s face was neutral as she just turned towards Kerry saying to Johnny.

“How about Kerry and Rouge ease you into most of it. I need to go out for a bit” with that she stepped away and glanced at Victor “Check him and the chip, once more okay? Call me if anything will be wrong, or need to buy anything”

V then smiled shakily at the confused Johnny and left the room, ignoring Rouge and Kerry who moved to follow or stop her.

Around two hours passed with V drinking in the bar with Claire keeping her company. She didn’t call Panam or Judy cause she knew that they would freak out and act as if V couldn’t handle shit.

Of course it fucking hurt to see Johnny like that. And to just not recognise her. Of course it’s not like she didn’t know that it would happen, but that stupid ass brain of hers was hoping that Alt was wrong.

“Maybe I’ll get you some water?” Claire asked, the angel she was.

V looked up and said “Another Jackie Wells”

Claire smiled tightly and made the drink, sliding it towards V.

Looking down at the glass V smiled bitterly. The only way she could be around her best friend was to drink his stupid drink, that he made her so many times and the way he fucking knew that she didn’t like it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Victor standing beside her stool.

“Is he alright? His arm working? I have another model ordered for him, but—“

“He’s fine physically. His arm will need replacing but for now it should be fine” Victor said, while sitting beside her on a stool.

“And how is he handling being in the future?” V asked, her mind clearing immediately from all the alcohol.

Victor sighed “Not well... but it seems like Rouge and Kerry know how to talk to him. But I want to know how are you? We know that there’s a small chance that he would remember but still. How are you holding kid?”

V laughed bitterly saying “You’re all acting as if he was my husband and not ex parasite turned friend...”

“V...”

“What do you want me to say Victor? Yeah it’s shitty, but I’m still gonna help him out and he beside him. I don’t care what he has to say about that. But I’m fucking staying!” she said and finished her drink, standing up “I promised him that I wouldn’t leave him. I promised him that I wouldn’t hate him...”

With that she patted Victor on the back and walked back to the back room where Johnny was. She walked in and everyone was looking at her immediately.

“Honey—“

“Kid—“

Both Kerry and Rogue started, but V spoke over them.

“How the star of the show?”

Johnny snorted and looked at her in interest “My fucking head hurts and I’m staring at the chick who was my incubator for weeks”

“Johnny” Kerry scolded, not being pleased with the choice of words.

“Basically. Here, have one” V said as she handed Johnny a cigarette. He looked up at her with a frown, as she shrugged “Near the end, when were connected my head hurt without a cigarette. You told me that it’s because of the lack of nicotine, that you had the same thing”

Johnny took the cigarette and lit it up, sighing in relief “Fuck... maybe there is some truth to what these two are saying”

“We told the truth, Johnny. Now it’s up to you to live up to where you were inside her head” Rouge said.

Johnny snorted and glanced at V saying “Please. Some nomad kid couldn’t change me that much. I was probably playing nice so that she wouldn’t off me”

“Fuck, Johnny” Kerry sighned.

“What Kerry? That’s what I would do!”

V sighed and counted to 10 inside her head, already knowing that dealing with Johnny is going to be tough.

And she was right.

For weeks V was helping Johnny get accustomed to the year 2078. She got him a job, while he was living in the room back in the Afterlife. He refused to live with Kerry and V in the huge mansion, instead preferred to be close to the party. She got him a new arm and gave him his clothes, weapon and car back, while sticking around trying to get through to him.

Even after V told him everything. Johnny only claimed that it was bullshit and continued on being an asshole.

Of course the merc left out all about the kiss and the nights they spend cuddled in her apartment, after learning that they could touch.

Johnny went through many stages with V.

First he was aggressive and pushed her around, telling her to fuck off and find a life. She annoyed him with the way she would fight back but never left him alone. Never hated him.

Second was ignoring. He would treat her as if she wasn’t there and even fucked another girl with her not far away in the bar. Still she kept being around. Didn’t hate him.

Third was trying to annoying and trying to fuck her constantly. He would filirt and be a sarcastic dick at the same time. He would touch her and tell her all about his impressive dick. Once against she was still around, without any reaction to his actions. Not hating him.

The fourth and current stage was using her. He would call her in the middle of the night for her to came and get his drugged or drunk ass from some chicks apartment, street or bar. Every call. Every time. Every hour. She was there and got him home safely. Without hating him.

Until now.

It was 3AM and V was looking around the alleyway where Johnny said he was in. And there he was. With a girl keeling between his legs, smirking at her.

Even when V thought that her heart didn’t shatter anymore. It was broken beyond repair during all these times with Johnny. She felt it shatter once again as she flinched in pain. Still she simply turned and went to the car to wait for him.

Few minutes later he was in her car, grinning. Some time into the drive he said something that triggered her for the first time.

“Sorry sweetheart. You were getting late and she was so so lovely. Blonde all that, exactly my type”

V flinched as she stared down at her dark skinned hands, and the thick black hair that reached her breasts. The exact opposite of the blonde woman.

Also the word he called her for the first time since...

I trust you, sweetheart...

Sweetheart.

She stopped the car near Afterlife, saying “Go. Afterlife is near maybe you’ll sober up a bit after a walk”

“Ahhh getting tired of me sweetheart?”

She doesn’t know how she even did it, but in a second she turned and slapped him harshly. Screaming at him for the first time since he came back.

“Fuck you Johnny! I know what you’re doing! You’re pissed that I don’t hate you like your friends did back in the day! How I’m not leaving like Alt did, when you got too difficult to fix up! Do you know how I fucking know?! Because you were inside my mind. I saw all that pain and loneliness you felt! I know it! You even told me about it although you knew that I knew!”

“You don’t know shit!” he yelled, only to get slapped again.

“Quite the opposite, Johnny! I know all of your shit! And I’m not leaving! Or hating you!”

“Why?! Why?! Why won’t you leave?!”

“Because I love you!” she screamed tears escaping her violet eyes “And you just keep on hurting me... I throught that I can handle it... but maybe I was wrong...” she added quietly, looking away from him.

Then she raised her hand and took off his glasses, to look into his dark eyes as she whispered “I’m sorry Johnny... I tried so hard... I’m sorry that I failed you... sorry that I wasn’t enough... I hope that maybe you will remember some day and stop being what you’re now... I love you, always”

Johnny was so stunned by what happened that he didn’t react to V kissing him gently behind the ear, where the chip was and whispering.

“I’m so sorry, my love...”

Then she pulled away and got out of the car, walking away with stunned Johnny still inside her car.

•there will be part two so follow me or just check the tag “Johnny Silverhand x V”

•also English isn’t my first language so sorry for any errors.

#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #night city #cyberpunk kerry #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk rogue #female v #angst with a happy ending

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onlysarah235678 · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit Part 8

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: So here is a break from the death. Just a little dog fluff, annoying people, and flowers and lube as promised. Thanks for reading 😊. Also special thank you to illuminated-blue for helping me figure out what gifs I wanted and then making them for me again (and for listening to me rant today). You’re the best ❤

Warnings: annoying people, brief mention of blood/wound cleaning, and slight dog aggression/distress.

The next day at work you feel like you’re floating you’re so happy. Everything is going well so far with appointments, and you’ve seen at least three happy, healthy puppies today. Not even the reporter waiting for you outside your building this morning could bring your mood down. You and Milo had just waltzed right by them to your car because you were determined to make it through this day unscathed. At least up until you went to Billie’s house.

The two of you had decided that you should come over because then Billie wouldn’t have to worry about the cats being left with the sitter. You felt bad for Heather who always seemed to be watching them, and Billie most likely wouldn’t be able to see you until after dinner time. The teen probably had better things to do than watch kittens all night. Even though they were adorable.

Speaking of cats, you look to your schedule and see that it’s changed a little. You take a minute to review the new client’s information before running up to your desk to finish up some notes while you had the chance. They should be here soon if they were in fact on time.

Claire smiles as she arrives at the clinic with her cat. She shuts the door behind her after grabbing the meowing cat in the back seat. She had specifically taken the day off so she could get her cat’s vaccines updated. Fridays were ideal because they were usually the busiest at the pet store. That’s why she’d picked today. She didn’t want to work. She also had wanted to make sure you’d be here, and that she could schedule an appointment with you. That was the real reason why Claire had taken today off of work.

She hadn’t seen you since running into you and Milo at that bar and that was too long for her liking. That meeting hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted so she was going to try again. She also had never gotten the chance to see you in your element, and she was way too excited for this opportunity today.

As Claire walked in through the front door, she immediately looked around for you, but came up empty. She turned to the blonde at the front desk with a half-smile.

“Hi, I’m here with Jonesy. I have an appointment with Dr. Y/L/N.”

You had never bothered to learn Claire’s last name. However, after being harassed by the brunette numerous times, you’d think that you’d want to have that sort of information. Unfortunately, you realize your mistake too late, and you walk into the exam room with Claire and her cat only to be completely blindsided. Dammit.

You barely hold back the urge to groan as you allow your professional persona to take over. You stomp down your personal feelings toward the brunette for probably the umpteenth time since you’d met her.

“Hi, Claire. Good to see you.”

For fuck’s sake. You had to stop saying that to her.

The exam went pretty well. Claire’s cat was a little shit for some of it, but he wasn’t the worst you’ve had to deal with. You’re at the point where you just need to get samples on him, but you have a feeling that you’ll need a little help. At the end of the exam, Jonesy got a little feisty and not too keen with being poked. For this reason, you asked the assistant helping you, Maria to go get another person to lend a hand, but Claire spoke up before she could leave. They exchange an uncomfortable look before you manage to cut the tension by smiling and effectively shutting Claire down.

“Don’t think you can handle little old Jonesy, Dr. Y/L/N?”

Maria’s jaw drops and you remind yourself to be a professional as you just laugh slightly instead of rolling your eyes.

“Not at all. I just want to make sure that no one gets hurt and that Jonesy is as least stressed as possible.”

Jonesy was very stressed. He hadn’t wanted any of the baby food that was offered and it took two holders wrapping him in a towel to keep him still. You pulled his blood easily enough, despite him having old cat veins that were practically non-existent, but there was no way in hell you were going to be able to get pee on him with how he was squirming.

As you did your job, you pretended not to notice Claire’s eyes on you. It was unsettling to say the least, but you weren’t going to call her out on it and let your assistants know that you’re tense. Well, you were all tense because Jonesy was getting pissed off.

You finish up quickly and pull out the needle from Jonesy’s leg, but you have to hold it for a moment to make sure his blood clots. That’s when he claws you with the nails you hadn’t gotten around to trimming yet. Maria had lifted her hand off of his leg like she was supposed to, and Jonesy took that opportunity to claw the shit out of your hand.

“Oww, okay! Let. Go.”

You pull Jonesy’s nail out of the back of your hand as carefully as possible before dropping his foot back onto the table. You used the towel wrapped around him to wipe up the blood that was already pooling before you go to grab the nail trimmers.

“Are you okay?”

You nod before grabbing the first paw with dagger-like nails. Jonesy of course hates it, but you finish quickly enough and manage to get out of there before Claire says anything too inappropriate. First thing you do is go to treatment and grab some gauze and disinfectant to put on your cut. It was still bleeding and you hiss in pain as you scrub it clean. This one is going to hurt like a bitch for a while.

Once done you wave your hand to dry it off before returning to pharmacy. You are about to start writing up Jonesy’s note when Maria comes out of the room you’d just been in with an uncertain look.

“Dr. Y/L/N. She has another question for you.”

You hold in your sigh before you nod and head back into the exam room. Hopefully this goes quickly.

Billie Dean was on lunch when you texted her about Claire. She had been working non-stop since she arrived to the studio at 6 this morning. She was ready for a break long enough to finish a cigarette because she was long overdue for one. She was grateful that Michelle had gotten her lunch and had it waiting for her once she finished her most recent episode. She only had one left to get to, and she was excited to be done. Even though it would definitely take the rest of the day.

After re-recording was done for the season, she was going back on television and radio to promote it. The thought made Billie exhausted, but she had to admit it would be nice to leave this studio for the next one. She had a television interview scheduled for next week, and she had already decided to talk to you about it beforehand.

There was no doubt in Billie Dean’s mind that the interviewer would ask her about her relationship with Y/N. She couldn’t just sit there and dodge it, well she could, but it would be too obvious. She needed to figure out where you both stood with your relationship. It was something she’d have to mention tonight when you came over.

Billie had to stop herself from smiling at the thought of what tonight would bring. You had agreed to come over, and you had even offered to cook. Billie wasn’t very good in the kitchen despite learning a couple of your favorite dishes, but she knew how much you loved cooking. You had practically begged her to let you make her dinner, and of course she’d said yes. How could she have said no to that?

She was eager to see what you made and was certain that the image of you cooking in her kitchen would be enough to get her through the rest of the day.

Billie sighed as she put out her cigarette before grabbing her phone out of her purse. She ignored the emails and immediately looked to your messages. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she reread the texts a couple of times.

Even after doing that, she still had no idea what you were talking about.

You were angrily texting Billie in your office when Erin came upstairs to give you your stethoscope. You’d left it downstairs in your hurry to go vent to Billie and you hadn’t even realized it. You didn’t hear her because you were muttering darkly under your breath, and you nearly fell out of your chair when she spoke up.

“Damn, annoying persistent little--.”

“Uh…Dr. Y/L/N?”

Your feet hit the ground fast as you spun around in your chair to see Erin standing in your doorway with your stethoscope in hand. You smile before laughing awkwardly and reaching out for it. You see Erin look to your phone before shooting you a concerned look.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Everything okay, doc?”

You nod despite the fact that you’re lying. You are annoyed at Claire for reasons you can’t really work out, but it’s enough to tick you off. You were having such a good day, and then she had to come in here and trap you in a room with her. She didn’t really have any questions for you, at least ones related to Jonesy. You try not to think about those same annoying questions before you shrug and decide to tell a little bit of the truth.

“Yeah, I just saw a client who I’ve had not so fun encounters with before.”

This piques Erin’s curiosity and she can’t help but ask who you just saw. You mention her name and how she works at a pet store you go to, and Erin practically jumps at this.

“Wait, is she brunette and kind of lanky?”

You open your mouth to reply, but don’t want to be unnecessarily mean so you just shrug noncommittally.

“Possibly?”

Erin groans as she moves a little closer so she can whisper and not be overheard. You are a little surprised by what the brunette says but you figure you shouldn’t be. She has pets too after all, and she is the one who told you about the store in the first place.

“Oh my god. She is the worst. She’s always there when I go get something for Dex and she-.”

Erin trails off as she looks to you uncertainly before deciding that you should probably know. She was really hoping that what she had to tell you didn’t surprise you. If you were annoyed with her it was very likely that you were well aware of Claire’s creepy tendencies.

“She always asks about you, but I promise I don’t tell her anything!”

Despite the chill you feel travel up your spine at the thought of Claire being that creepy, you smile at Erin. You’re grateful that she can tell when someone’s being a creep, and that she’s smart enough to not give them anything they could use against her. It’s also nice to know that she has your back when it matters.

“Thank you for that. She’s always just a little too pushy.”

Erin frowns a this before nodding to herself and you. She decides that she was going to have to run interference if this Claire showed up again. She leaves you alone after that to go back to work, and you almost forgot that you’d texted Billie when your phone beeps. You jump slightly in surprise before looking to what she wrote.

Who is it that’s bothering you? One of your coworkers?

You look back to the messages you sent to her as if you’d forgotten and cringe at how you let Claire rile you up this much.

This bitch won’t leave me alone.

Her cat’s a little shit too.

Okay, so maybe this had been a little unnecessary. Sure Claire was kind of a bitch and annoying, but you probably shouldn’t have said this. She just wouldn’t leave you alone no matter what you did, and now she was showing up at your work? Next thing you knew she’d be showing up at your damn front door.

The part about her cat was true though. He was a little shit.

You type a response before returning to your records. You write up the last details for Claire’s cat, you’d been waiting until everything else was done before doing that, before heading downstairs. It’s almost 1:30, so you only have about half an hour until your next appointment. You take the steps two at a time going down on your way to the kennels. You see Milo sleeping and smile as he jumps up at the sound of the door opening.

“Hey, Milo. Want to go out?”

He nearly knocks you over in his excitement to get out. You curse before grabbing onto Milo’s harness to lead him outside. As soon as you reach the yard and make sure it is empty, you release Milo and watch him run away. He pees here and there before coming back to jump on the bench that you were sitting on. You sighed before standing up and grabbing a frisbee and holding it up with a smile.

“Ready?”

Milo runs after the frisbee until he’s exhausted and panting ten minutes later. He’s lying in the grass with the frisbee near his mouth because he still had to hold onto it so you wouldn’t take it from him. You walk over to him because you figure he needs to go inside for some water, but Milo grabs the frisbee when he sees you coming. He runs away despite still panting and you sigh as you watch your dog run around with his frisbee. You decide it’s a lost cause and leave him to play with it for a minute as you run inside really quickly to grab something.

You nearly run into Erin on your way inside, but you stop just in time before shooting her an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Erin.”

She waves you off before glancing outside. “Milo out there?”

You just nod and she asks if she can take the twins out there. The ‘twins’ are two golden retrievers that are boarding for about a month while their home is under construction. They’re super sweet like most goldens and Milo loves them. You smile before nodding and continuing on your way into the clinic. You don’t make it very far before you’re stopped again.

“Dr. Y/L/N!”

You turn at the sound of someone calling your name. One of the receptionists is holding a large arrangement of flowers that almost completely hides their face. You smile about to ask who they were for before she hands them to you.

“For you. Do you want me to put them in your office?”

You shoot her a confused look and it takes you a second to respond. You eventually shake you head before reaching out to take them from her. You thank her before watching as she heads back up front before you look to the flowers again.

They’re beautiful and bright and they smell wonderful. The arrangement is a mix of roses, lilies and a couple other flowers you didn’t know the name of. You were halfway up the stairs before you attempted to look for a card. It was hidden and you couldn’t pull it from the flowers easily. You set the vase down on your desk before freeing the card from the petals and flipping it over to read what was written.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

Billie Dean.

You smile at the note before tucking it away somewhere safe. You were touched that Billie would surprise you like this and you couldn’t wait for tonight either.

It was going to be different from any of your previous dates. You were going to cook because you had been wanting to since you found out how much take-out Billie ate, and it was going to be at her house so you could see the kittens. You were only a little nervous about going over to Billie’s house again, but you were determined not to make it a big deal.

It had only been a few weeks since you met, but you hadn’t felt like how you did with Billie, with anyone else. Certainly not with your horrible exes. Billie Dean made you feel comfortable in a way that no one else ever had. She was different. Obviously because she was a medium, but honestly that wasn’t the difference that mattered to you. You hadn’t been lucky enough to be with someone that was as considerate and understanding as Billie. She never faulted you for your awkward and depressing past, and she was busier than you were so the sporadic texts and the even more sporadic dates didn’t upset her like you feared it would.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of yet someone else calling your name. This time however it was more frantic than you were expecting and you hurried out of your office. You’re met at the stairs by a slightly panicked Lindsey who must have been on lunch because she still had half of it in her hand.

“What’s is it? Is something wrong?”

Lindsey just hurries back down the stairs and opens the door to treatment. You follow her without question as she nods and fills you in on what’s going on.

“Milo was playing with the twins and he got stuck in the fence chasing the frisbee.”

You have to hold in your groan of disbelief because of course your overzealous and slightly impulsive dog would do this. You just mutter an okay under your breath before heading back out into the yard where you see Erin and Mina standing beside your screaming dog. He’s thrashing and trying to pull himself out, but he’s pretty stuck and really must have been running full speed.

You run over to the trio to try and calm Milo down because it seems like he really is stuck. You crouch down next to him on his right before reaching out for the panicked shepherd.

“Hey! Milo, hey, hi. It’s me, you’re okay. Shh, it’s okay, buddy.”

You reach through the bars of fence to pet Milo’s head and he calms enough for you not to be worried about him injuring himself further. You look him over quickly and don’t see any blood immediately, but then you reach his head and you see some dripping from his nose. You sigh in frustration as you try to figure out what the best thing to do is.

“Could you run inside and get a couple of towels and some lube?”

You figure that’s the best thing to get him out of this jam and you watch as both Erin and Mina leave, the latter leading the twins inside so they don’t get in the way. You turn back to your dog who is still panting in either exertion or stress, you’re not sure, and you do your best to keep him calm while you wait for your supplies.

“It’s okay Milo. You’re alright. We’re going to get you out, okay?”

Milo just whines before he turns to lick your hand that had been scratching his neck. You realize that you should probably take off his harness if you hope to slide him back through the fence, but you only get it halfway off before it becomes stuck.

“Dammit.”

Erin returns first and she stands back a little not sure if you want help before she speaks up.

“Anything I can do?”

You nod before motioning for the brunette to come closer so you can show her what you’re trying to do. If you pull on his harness while Erin pushes him away from the fence post a bit you might be able to get it off. You explain this and Erin just nods before moving to put her hands on Milo.

“Sorry buddy.”

It works but Milo yelps as you do it, so you decide to leave the other side be. Maybe you can slide him forward enough on the other side and figure it out from there. He was trapped from just behind his shoulders with most of his body still inside the yard, so maybe you could just pull him back in. When Mina arrives with the towels and what looks like all of the lube in the hospital, you relay the plan and put on the gloves that Mina luckily had the foresight to bring.

“Okay, Milo. We’re going to put this on you and try to slide you out alright?”

You know that he’s not going to respond or even really comprehend what you’re saying, but you know that hearing your voice will calm him down. He’s always been anxious when having things done to him and this was going to be worse due to the fact that he’s already highly stressed before anything has even begun.

You start to rub some of the lube on his right shoulder through the fence while Mina and Erin take his left side. Milo turns as they talk to him too, but is unable to see and growls as they touch him.

“Hey, Milo, stop that. They’re just trying to help you, okay?”

You try to keep going, you even move one of your hands to his left side but it doesn’t help. Milo just gets antsier and he’s growling louder before you realize it’s not working. You can’t be mad at him for being scared. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t see them so he’s distrustful.

You make the decision to switch sides with them so he can see them and just hear you on his blind side. You berate yourself for not doing this initially because Milo immediately calms down and his tail starts to wag as you scratch him between his shoulder blades.

“Good boy, Milo. Almost done okay?”

Now that Mio is sufficiently lubed, you try and slide him back through the bars. You manipulate one of his legs forward to try and slide him backwards but he’s still too wide. You instruct Erin and Mina to do the same and Milo’s legs are stretched out as far forward as they can go before you try again. You have to readjust as Erin moves to pull him from behind, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Milo finally slides back into the yard. You hold onto him as his head whips around to see who’s at his rear end, and you look at his nose carefully before taking his harness off completely. You try to wipe off some of the lube with the towels, but it’s no use. Milo’s too excited about being freed and he’s already shaking it everywhere anyway.

“Look at you Milo. You’re a mess, huh? You need a bath.”

He just licks your face and you groan in annoyance before thanking both of your helpers. You scratch your dog behind his ears for another few seconds before you stand up and motion for him to follow you.

“No more frisbee for a while, okay?”

It turns out that Milo’s a little sorer than anticipated and after his bath he yelps when you reach underneath him to pick him up. You try again more carefully before just letting him jump up on you. You regret this immediately once all 70+ lbs of him is in your arms, but you put him down quickly as he shakes all of the water off of him. You groan in disgust before covering him with a towel and attempting to dry him off.

He whines when you put him in the kennel with the blow dryer, but you have to get to your appointment. You’ll check on him afterwards, but for now you have to go see a dog about some skin issues.

“I’ll be back Milo. Be good.”

It’s 4 before you are able to take the time to examine Milo again. You are in between appointments when you pull him out of his kennel and bring him into treatment. You brush him out because he looks like a mess and as you’re doing that you notice he’s a little sensitive along his ribs. Not that you’re shocked. He’d forced himself through a damn hole he shouldn’t have been able to fit through.

You listened to him and didn’t find anything else wrong and decided to just give him a little something for the pain that would be worse tomorrow. Your next appointment arrives as you are finishing up with him but it’s taking you a minute to get Milo to take his pill. He’s always been horrible about taking medication.

“Dr. Y/L/N. Billy’s here.”

You’re a little confused by this and you turn to Erin with a frown. You’re currently holding open Milo’s mouth to try and shove this pill down his throat when you realize what she means. Billy. The cat with arthritis.

“Right okay, what’s going on with him?”

Billie Dean checks her phone again once she’s done with work. She hasn’t heard from you yet which makes her think you’re still working. It’s nearly 6:30 which is a little late for you, but she decides to just head home and get things ready.

Other than taking care of the kittens and making sure there were clean dishes for you two to use, she didn’t have much she could do. You had refused to tell her what you were cooking and had insisted on shopping yourself. Billie was already in the car when her phone rang. She answers it without looking to see who it is because she’s driving, but she doesn’t have to wonder long.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Billie I’m so sorry for not calling you sooner! Things got crazy here. Milo got stuck in a fence, a dog came in after getting hit by a car, but thank you so much! The flowers are beautiful!”

Billie chuckles under her breath at your flustered state, but then she registers everything that you said and she frowns in concern.

“I’m glad you liked them, Y/N. Did you say that Milo got stuck in a fence? Is he okay?”

You turned around to glance in the back seat briefly to see him fast asleep. He was exhausted from his exciting day and probably would sleep the rest of the night.

“Yeah, he was having too much fun with some friends and a frisbee and ended up halfway through an iron fence.”

Billie shakes her head at the image this conjures up and she sighs as she turns into her driveway.

“Aw poor baby.”

You laugh at this before pulling up to your apartment building. You still had to go shopping to get groceries, but you had to make sure that Milo was situated first. You weren’t sure how long you would be gone and were a little stressed by this, but you would figure it out.

“Yeah, he had a rough day.”

You both were silent as you turn off your cars and consider what to say next. You were trying to figure out how much time you needed to take care of Milo and shop before you could head over to Billie’s. Billie was trying to figure out things for Milo as well, but you hadn’t even considered what she suggested.

“How was your day?”

“Do you want to bring him?”

You both speak at the same time and it takes you a second to realize what she’s said. You shake your head as you turn around to see Milo still out cold. You hoped you wouldn’t have to carry him. Again.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just get him set up here before heading to the store.”

Billie’s already out of her car by the time she responds. She doesn’t mind either way, but she has a feeling she knows what you want to do. Not to mention, she supposes that the kittens need to be socialized and Bit possibly scared obedient. As if that would ever work.

“Would you feel better if you brought him?”

You don’t answer immediately which is honestly the only answer that Billie needs. You’re thinking about how you would love to bring him along because you’d be able to watch him and you could see how Milo would act around the kittens. You had always wanted a cat, and you supposed now was as good a time as any to see how it might work. Or not. As long as Billie didn’t mind.

Eventually you answer and Billie has to force herself not to smile smugly at how well she knew you already.

“I guess. I don’t want you to feel obligated though. I can’t exactly promise that he won’t get hair everywhere!”

You jump out of your car quickly before opening the back door startling Milo awake. He sits up quickly and you reach into the back seat and unbuckle him before grabbing his leash. He jumps to the ground a little more carefully than he usually would before you hear Billie reply.

“I want you to do whatever you need, Y/N. I’m fine either way. You know I adore Milo.”

You smile at this as you look to your dog who is yawning as you walk to the elevator. You suppose that you can take him with you. He might actually enjoy it. You just had to make sure he behaved and didn’t hurt any of the kittens. Billie said this before you got a chance to and you laugh as you nod in agreement.

“We’ll just have to see how he plays along with the kittens.”

You follow Milo into the elevator before leaning against the wall with a sigh. You suppose it’s decided then. You feel your excitement for tonight increasing again, now that you know Milo won’t be home alone. You just smile as the doors close and you take a deep breath.

“We will. I’ll feed him and then be over in about an hour. Does that work?”

Billie’s nodding before she greets Heather who is with Mickey in the living room.

“I’ll see you both then.”

Part 9

#american horror story #ahs fic #ahs #my ffic #ahs murder house #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit #IS IT TOO LATE TO TAG THIS AS SLOW BURN???#Y'all I promise it's coming

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artxyra · 4 years ago

Note

I have another request. Mari and Damian go to the same school. Suddenly a gas enters the school. Girls become a cat for 3 days. Boys are tasked with taking care of the cats and Damian gets Mari. 1st day they bond. (He calls her Angel) 2nd day she makes a robin costume (her logo has angel wings) and secretly goes with Robin on patrol. He gets attacked, she saves him, they love her. 3rd day when fam is out she makes Damian a cake. She turns to normal they become really close. Btw I love your work!

Note: I literally had nothing planned going into this, but once I started writing the story took in the direction that I never had intended but I do like.

Damian Wayne was already on edge that day. He came to the school with an aura that was dark than the usual don’t mess with me. One dared to go near him, though a series of classmates wanted the school’s sunshine to ease the mess, she was nowhere in sight. In fact, the school is pretty sure they will never meet seeing as she’s been here for over a couple of months and never once had she met a person named Damian.

For Damian, he was on edge because of the night before. Batman and Robin had a run-in with this mysterious new villain and that has everyone on edge. There was no record of this villain and at first, they thought it was Selina, but she was out of the states and no one has heard from her in a while. The only clue they have is that the villain was also enthralled by cats.

So, when a mysterious yellow gas, Damian’s mood went beyond anyone could imagine. The gas spreads through the windows and into the classroom. Panic rose as the gas begins to cover only the females of the school. One-by-one they all shrink to an unbelievable size. Cat’s meow echoes from the gas and as the males swipe away the lingering gas remnants, they are faced with an unbelievable sight.

In the placements of every female in the room are cats wearing the school’s infamous uniform that apparently also shrinks to fit the cat’s bodies. A series of meows to hissing breaks the shock faces of the males.

Immediately, the school heads started to investigate. Using the cats as a base they found out that the girls could stay in this form for at least three days, if not more. After contacting the proper guardians/parents, it came down to those who couldn’t be able to return home due to strict reasons, such as living alone, or strict landlord rules about pets. Those that couldn’t go to their families were immediately assigned a caretaker regardless of status.

Damian at first was conflicted. Yes, he loves animals, but at the same time, there was a risk, his family’s secret. What happens if whoever he gets remembers their time as a cat? Was it that big of a risk? The appropriate answer is yes, but the animal lover in him said no.

“Here you, Marinette, meet your temporary caretaker.” The attendance persons say to the cat dressed in a pink vet with blue trim and the school’s logo on the pouch. He hands the cat version of Marinette to Damian, who was unsure of how to hold her. It’s not this cat is a normal cat, like Alfred.

Marinette squirms in Damian’s arms, he quickly readjusts her before opting to set her down. She flicks her tail across his legs and nods her head. Damian sighs, but not before the attendance person gives him a reassuring smile.

‘C’mon Marionette.” He grumbles walking towards the entrance of the school. Examining his peers, he can tell that some are way too happy about this predicament while others are completely nervous. Marinette, once again, meows gaining Damian’s attention. He looks down to see her playing with his pant legs. Unsure what she means, he picks her up and cradles her to his chest.

“Young Master,” He hears Alfred greets to him. Turning to give the family’s butler attention he tightens his hold on Marinette, who hisses in response. “The school has informed us of our newest visitor, I take it that you have a plan against your brothers.” The look on Damian’s usually stoic face says it all.

Upon entering the Wayne manor, Damian is grateful that his older brothers, aside from Tim, live outside of the manor. He knows that he couldn’t handle the constant amount of teasing that would ensure once word got out.

“Alfred tells me we have a visitor.” Damian sets Marinette down so that he could face his father. Bruce eyes the dark-haired cat before turning his attention back to his son. “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

Damian huffs, absently petting Marinette’s fur. “Of course, it is father. Why wouldn’t I bring her home? She needed a place to stay and after a long hard thought I decided that this was the best fit.”

Bruce curtly nods. “Just keep her away from the family’s hangout.” Damian acceptingly nods.

“C’mon Marionette, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying at. Be warned, that you are not the only cat here. Alfred can be very territorial.” Damian gestures for Marinette to follow. She meows and tots over to Damian.

They walk in silence. Damian was unsure what to say to a person he barely knows, and Marinette just eyes her surroundings.

That night, Damian went out as Robin once he triples checked that Marinette was sleep, but when he came back, he was greeted with Marinette yowling at him to go to sleep. He glares at the female cat as he swears, he heard Alfred the cat laughing at her commands.

The first day with cat Marinette was eventful. Damian was woken up by the lack of air as Alfred the cat was resting on his head. Once he had pried the black and white cat off of him, he is then greeted by Marinette’s sass. She flicks her tail and pries open the door before disappearing down the halls. Damian calls out to her, but it fades with the meowing from Alfred.

Once he made it downstairs, he sees Marinette sitting outside of the kitchen, she is eyeing the sleep-deprived nature of Timothy Drake. Tim was only seconds away from passing out with the steaming cup of coffee in hand.

Marinette jumps onto the table before anyone could scold her and push against Tim’s hand. He absently pets her thinking that it was probably Alfred annoying him. Marinette takes this moment to use her paws to push the coffee mug away from Tim. She looks around the room before jumping off the table and trots over to a cabinet.

Alfred, the human, appears behind Damian humming, he is intrigued. “It seems that Miss Marinette is on a mission. What would you like for breakfast young master?”

Damian murmurs his answer before he is quick at awe with how Marinette was mixing ingredients into a cup. With her nose, she nudges the cup over to Alfred, who picks up but not without petting her head. Handing the newly tainted cup to Tim, they wait patiently with baited breaths. Tim takes a long sip. Light snores then escape his lips as his head fits the table.

Damian stares at Marinette amazed. She lets out a meow and walks over to Damian, who picks her up and exits the kitchen area. Taking a seat on the couch, he begins to play with Marinette. Tapping her paws as she swats at him. Alfred, the human, quickly snags a couple of photos before proceeding with breakfast.

“How did you do that? Getting Drake to sleep?” Damian mentally slaps himself the moment the words left his lips. Marinette meows in response and snuggles closer to Wayne heir. “Maybe you’re not so bad as they say, Marionette.”

Marinette hisses at the male, her eyes becoming slits as she playful claws at him. Damian winces upon the nails attaching to his skin.

“Sorry, Angel.” He freezes in his spot. Never once had a nickname came out so capturing. Sure, he had called people by their last names, rarely their first, but nothing as meaningful as Angel.

He didn’t know how long he kept Marinette in his arms reading a book; however, what he does know it lasted enough time for Alfred to finish breakfast and call everybody down. Marinette’s purrs quickly turn into yowl as she felt her body move from its comfortable state.

Damian pats her head before entering the kitchen.

“Damian!” Bruce shouted upon exiting the dining room. In front of him is Marinette chasing Alfred the cat at high speed. She was jumping and dodging as Alfred was sliding and jumping past the future. Damian had to hold in his laugh when he saw the two cats running amuck. He could hear Marinette’s hissing, which made him wonder what Alfred did to upset the poor cat girl.

“An—Marionette,” He calls out ignoring his father’s Bruce Wayne version of the bat glare. Marinette meows, coming to a stop before jumping into Damian’s arms. She purrs as he slides his hand down her fur.

“Damian, please keep your friends under control.” Bruce then disappears down the hall probably to one of the many secret entrances to the cave. Damian doesn’t speak until he knows he is alone.

“Angel, what did Alfred do to you?” He asks the cat in his arms. Marinette looks to him and meows. “You want to do outside?” Unsure what she wanted, but the head gesture towards the window stated otherwise.

Marinette purrs in delight the moment her paws touch the ground outside the manor. Damian stares at her, curious as to what she’ll do. This was supposed to be the sunshine of their school anyway. Marinette trots off over to a bed of flowers. She sniffs them before letting out a sneeze. Damian holds in his breath, hoping that it would keep him from smiling or awing over the adorable sneeze. Maybe it was the fact that she’s a cat that making him feel this way?

Together they stay outside the manor until it was near lunchtime. Marinette teases him with her tail every chance she got meanwhile Damian was holding in the urge to yell or awe at her. It was becoming a dance of emotions.

“Young Master, your father is in need of your help.” Alfred calls out to him. Damian knowing what that meant, hands Marinette over to Alfred] before dashing off to become Robin. “He’ll be back Miss Dupain-Cheng would you like something to eat?” Marinette nods as Alfred hums his way to the kitchen.

Still sleeping in the same chair as earlier was Tim and right beside him with claws out is Alfred, the cat with a devious look in his eyes. Marinette squirms in Alfred’s, the human, arms. Tim moves just enough to avoid the incoming claw. Marinette hisses at the black and white cat, waking up Tim in the process.

“Uh, how long was I out for?” Tim looks around, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Uh, who’s the cat?”

“Master Timothy, you’ve been asleep all morning, now would you like anything to eat or join your father and brother?” Alfred asks hoping the third oldest male would choose food over crime-fighting. Tim’s stomach growls in response sealing his fate.

When Damian had returned that night after hours of crime-fighting, he was greeted with the sight of Marinette sleeping on his bed with Alfred, the cat, on the opposite side. Little did he know was that Marinette had wondered around the manor as Alfred, the human, began cleaning.

That night Damian swears he heard voices as he slept.

“Alfred, no~” It was feminine something that the unusual in the manor unless his sister or Selina came by. What follows quickly afterward is a series of meows.

Slightly awoken by the noise he darts upward; a daze looks in his eyes. In front of him are a pair of dark cat ears and long dark hair. Thinking that it was Marinette, he goes back to sleep for the night.

At the start of the second day, Damian was woken up by Marinette purring rather than Alfred smothering him.

“Morning Angel.” He greets the smaller of the two dark-haired cats. Marinette meows sliding her tail against his arm. It was then that he had noticed the change in the outfit the female cat was wearing. No longer was it her school uniform but an updated version of it with a pink ruffle skirt around her waist. Confused, Damian wasn’t sure whether he should question the new information or integrate the cat. Choosing to ignore the outfit change, he begins to get ready for the day.

Marinette sneaks out of the bedroom and down the halls.

When Damian sees Marinette later that morning, all he could do was groan at the sight before him. It had to be Dick that had entered the manor for the day. Didn’t the oldest Wayne had a job?

“Grayson, what are you doing here?” He asks glaring at the fact that Dick had Marinette in his arms.

“Baby bird, why didn’t you tell me that you had gotten a new pet. I’m sure B wasn’t too happy.” Marinette meows loudly in his arms.

“Tt, she’s a guest, for the time being, Grayson, now put An-her down. She doesn’t like to be held by strangers.” Damian was quick to catch himself saying her nickname. Dick pouts and reluctantly puts the cat down.

“She’s already better than Alfred, the cat. Which reminds me, Alfred the butler says that breakfast is done if you want any. Timmy already ate and ended up disappearing.” Dick’s reply instantly causes Marinette to run in the direction of the kitchen. Damian narrows his eyes feeling a slight sense of betrayal.

Dick turns to Damian and wraps his arm around the younger’s shoulder and laughs, “C’mon, baby bird.”

That night as Damian was getting ready for patrol, he doesn’t realize the makeshift smaller version of the Robin uniform being pulled out by the teeth of Marinette’s mouth. She tugs against the uniform and slowly puts it on. Trotting over to the mirror, she checks herself out and sneakily follows Damian to the Bat cave.

For a cave full the world’s greatest detective, them not noticing a small cat wearing a cape that has the Robin emblem with addition to having angel wings was the most face-palming feat they have ever done.

Marinette snuggles her way into a hidden compartment on Robin’s motorbike. She waits until she could feel was rumbling of the engine. The engine soon cuts off, popping her head out of the hidden compartment, she looks around. Nothing felt out of place for her. Though she could feel the pulsating effects of the magic with her.

She could still hear Damian checking out the buildings. There is nothing to report on, something she knows the feeling all to well with her time being Ladybug. Late-night patrols were her worst nightmare.

Staying put, Marinette knew she couldn’t move, not just yet. There needs to be the ultimate reason for her to reveal herself. That lasted until the growing sounds of someone grunting and punching filled her sensitive ears.

“Oh, how the little birdy is struggling against someone like little old me.” A voice says off in distance.

Turning her head, she finally sees Robin in the midst of what looks like hand-to-hand combat with this new cat-obsessed villain. She could also see that Damian was struggling to maintain the upper power over the villain.

The villain places Robin and locking hold.

Marinette jumps out of the hidden spot instantly transferring into the catgirl form. Her ears perk at the sound of grunts, she moves quickly to the fighting scene. Incepting the hold, she frees Robin who falls backward.

“It seems my magic has evolved or you’re just a magical being.” The villain murmurs but she was able to pick up.

“It was you that turned the school into cats.” Marinette accuses as she felt her emotions go into over-drive. With heighten senses she engaged in combat with the villain.

The villain taunts her as Robin struggles to readjust himself. The paralyzing effects of whatever the villain holds over him fading away. He could barely hear the sounds of his family over the earpiece as he watches in shock seeing the Angel, he had been taking care of fighting the villain that turned females into cats.

She could feel the magic he was wielding pushing against her own, telling her to revert into her cat form. Pushing against the call, Marinette holds herself firm against the incoming blows.

“Augh, I got no time for this.” The villain waves his device. Marinette hisses feeling the shrinking feeling taking over again.

With a mighty blow narrowly defeats the villain just as the magic turns her back into a cat. Licking her paw, she trots over to Robin and brush against his legs. He is too in shock to do anything.

The next thing the pair knew, Red Robin was cuffing the cat villain as Nightwing and Batman make their way over to Robin, trying to get him to speak. Robin was unsure how to answer any of the questions, he simply just gestured to Marinette.

Marinette’s eyes twinkle as Nightwing takes her into his arms gushing about how great of a cat she is; however, the same couldn’t be said for Batman.

“She saved me, father if it wasn’t for her who would have known what the Cat-caller would have done to me.” Damian finally speaks placing his foot down against his father’s better judgment. Batman tried to up the fact that she knows their family secret, but even he couldn’t deny the possibilities.

Finally patting her fur, everyone knew that she had won over the famous Batman and Bruce Wayne’s appreciation.

When Damian and Marinette had returned to the manor, he couldn’t help but be at odds with her. He didn’t know what to say, to ask even. This cat had saved him, knows his family's biggest secret, and could fight. This was not something he normally deals with within a single day. He watches her as she slept in her little area, wondering what to say to her when she becomes human once again.

Damian falls asleep never noticing the sincere look one eye open of Marinette.

Today was supposed to be the last day for all the females in their school to be human. The girls were excused from the classes however the males were not. It was Tim that left the manor first, then it was Damian and Bruce followed not long after. Alfred, the human, needed to run some errands living the animals alone in the manor.

Marinette could feel the magic effects of the gas waning off. She chased Alfred, the cat, around the manor because he ended disrupting her relaxing time only to be followed by Titus soon after. She had barely spent any time with the other animals over the course of the two days.

Waking up after a quick catnap, Marinette began to realize that she was no longer in her cat form, but in her catgirl form instead. Her ears perk up with an idea. Maybe she should Damian a thank you cake for everything he has done for her. Yup, that is exactly what she is going to do.

Calling for the animals to follow her, she makes her way into the kitchen. Quickly locating the ingredients, she immediately got to work but not before believing she is on a cooking show giving instructions to her audience, the animals.

They all watch Marinette, intrigued by what she’ll make. Titus had nudged her hand a few times reminding her that Damian was a vegetarian allowing her to make the changes quickly before mixing them together.

As the cake baked in the oven, she began mixing a vanilla vegan frosting, a recipe she remembers her parents making when the customer was strictly a vegan. The buttercream came out nice and silky. It wasn’t long before the cake was done and put in the chiller for cooling. Marinette knew that she only made hours before anyone would return to the manor. Hopefully, by then she would have fully reverted to a human.

The cake was done and fully decorated before Alfred had returned with Damian behind him. Marinette, now fully human, smiles at the two with a joy that could defeat all darkness.

“I made you a cake as thanks for handling me as a cat. You didn’t have to, but you did.” Marinette place a quick peck on the youngest Wayne’s cheek before cutting him a slice.

“Uh...” Damian was speechless. Little did he know was that Alfred was filming the encounter with a knowing smirk. Maybe this would be the person that thaw out the ice prince’s cold heart.

“Don’t it’s vegetarian safe, you can thank Titus for reminding me and thank Alfred, the cat, for not attempting to sabotage it while I was baking,” Marinette adds when she saw the look in Damian’s eyes and the way his body language spoke upon being handed the slice of cake.

Together, against all odds, they sat in silence eating their own slice of cake. Alfred even takes one and appraises the young woman about her craftwork. She then explains that her parents owned a bakery growing up and that she’s been baking ever since she could remember.

Properly meet the rest was of the Wayne family was at dinner, when Damian begged her to stay the night to which she turned down on the basis that she needed a change of clothes and that she should go, check out her dorm apartment and make sure everything was okay.

In the weeks that follow, everyone at their school was in shock seeing the ice prince and sunshine incarnated hanging out with one another. No was surprised when the two began dating a couple of months after the cat situation. They were a match made in heaven.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#daminette #maribat #damimari #cat marinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #marinette x damian

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badacts · 4 years ago

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fathers and children

“Daddy.”

Bruce is so sleep-deprived he almost falls back into unconsciousness between the voice and the hand tugging at his shirtsleeve. “Wussit?”

“Daddy,” the voice says again tearfully, “Hadda bad dream.”

“Oh no buddy,” Bruce mumbles, hooking an arm around and pulling the little body up on the mattress beside him. It snuggles into him, warm and sniffling. Actually, maybe a little too warm. “Feeling sick?”

Tim’s head shakes a no into Bruce’s shoulder. He’s got his comfort blanket, referred household-wide as ‘Blankie’, tight in his fist. “I sleep here.”

“That’s okay,” Bruce replies, tucking him under the sheets without dislodging him. It’s the same feeling of impossible tenderness every time, even when he’s most of the way asleep and Tim is distressingly sticky.

He likely falls back to sleep before Tim does, and wakes about what feels like five minutes later to, “Dad. Bruce, wake up.”

The only thing that stops him from sitting straight up is Tim’s weight at his side. “Dick?”

“I think Jason’s upset,” Dick murmurs, rubbing at his eye with a curled fist.

Bruce exhales, and then slips Tim’s fast-asleep body over so he can get out of bed. “Hop in chum. Thanks for getting me.”

“Uh huh,” Dick says, scrambling under the blankets and curling around Tim, cooing at him sleepily. Tim snores in response.

Dick’s bedroom door is thrown open across the hall from Bruce’s, but the one next door is firmly closed still. Bruce pauses for a second outside and hears sniffling, and a single low sob.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. “Jaybird?”

He’s answered by abrupt quiet. Sighing silently, he perches his weight on the edge of the bed. “Did you have a nightmare?”

The lump in the blankets moves enough to reveal a red-rimmed eye. “No.”

“Okay,” Bruce replies peaceably. “Want to lie back down?”

His head shakes. At six, Jason is as stubborn as they come. He makes intractable Dick look positively agreeable by comparison.

“Can I lie down then?” Bruce asks. “Dick and Tim stole my bed and I’m tired.”

Jason takes a moment to consider this. “Okay. I’m fine though.”

Bruce slides across to the side of the bed, rueing Alfred’s decision that the kids’ rooms should have single beds until they physically required something larger. The psychology of it is sound, but when Bruce lies back his feet dangle over the edge of the mattress. It’s lucky Jason is small for his age.

Once he’s stretched on his back, there’s a scratch of moving blankets, and then a heavy little head drops onto his shoulder. Jay doesn’t ask for comfort, not yet, but he’s passable at accepting it when offered. It’s a work in progress. He’s still shivering a little, wracked by his night terrors in a way little Tim can’t quite be - they’re memories, not products over a too-clever overactive brain - but he settles quicker every time. Bruce toys with his hair.

Jason falls asleep after a little while, crashing hard after the swell of emotions. Bruce, still wide awake after the insistence of Dick’s voice from before, is contemplating his future back pain when he sees movement in Jason’s doorway where he left the door open.

It’s dark, and she’s silent. but it’s easy enough to recognise Cass and the movement of a nightgown. She stays so still in the doorway that it’s not quite right in a twisting way in Bruce’s belly, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, because no one ever tells you that your own kids can freak you out.

“Cassie?” he whispers, unwilling to wake Jason again so soon.

It’s then that the smell hits him.

His whole life has inured him to any number of bad smells. It’s still unpleasant to deal with those things in his own home. At least it’s just vomit, though.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, hurriedly but gently bundling Jason up and moving him off of his chest. Cass, now sure that he’s awake, lifts her arms in a silent request to be picked up.

“Dad,” she mumbles as he hefts her up. Her chin is marked with sick, and there’s thin trails of it down her front. “Sick.”

“I see that,” Bruce replies, more for her to hear his voice than anything else. Her language skills are still significantly delayed compared to Jason’s, though she’s nine months older, and he’s become used to narrating things to her to help her vocabulary increase. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He whisks her into his own ensuite, stopping briefly to check Tim and Dick are still sleeping soundly on the way. He waits to turn on the bathroom light until the door is closed, then settles Cass on the edge of the sink. Her hand catches in his shirt, keeping him close.

“Does your stomach hurt?” he asks from a crouch in front of her, resting a hand on her forehead. She doesn’t feel warm to the touch, and her eyes are as bright and watchful as ever.

She signs better at him, and then begins trying to wrestle her nightgown off. Bruce sweeps it over her head and uses a clean patch to wipe her face. The struggle is that, as soon as he takes over, her hands go back to clutching at him. Rather than wrestling with her - a battle he knows he would lose - he takes off the cotton shirt he’s wearing and transfers it directly onto her, inside-out and as big as a tent on her. She’s in danger of slipping out through the neckhole, so he wraps it around her and scoops her up.

“Back to bed, wee one,” he murmurs to her, but she slaps at him at Jason’s door with a mostly-free arm, pointing imperiously at her brother’s door.

The two of them are closest in age and seem sometimes like a pair of twins, particularly with Cass’s self-cut short-and-ragged hairstyle (Alfred had confiscated the plastic safety scissors after that, but neither of them have had the mental fortitude to take a wailing, squirming seven year old to the hated hairdresser to tidy it up) and Jason’s overgrown mop. It’s unsurprising that Cass crawls onto Jason’s mattress and flops stomach-down over his feet. It’s a position Bruce has found the pair of them in before during many late-night checks.

Jason snuffles and mumbles something incomprehensible, but doesn’t wake. Cass lets out a contented sigh, tucking the shirt’s hem in like a blanket around her, and closes her eyes.

That’s four children settled. Bruce, accepting the idea that he’ll likely have to sleep on the tufted bench at the foot of his own bed to avoid disturbing a sleeping three- and eleven-year-old, slips through the door of the nursery and peers into the cradle under the window.

Damian blinks up at him, fully awake but silent. His eyes are enormous in his nut-brown face, and his expression seems vaguely disapproving. Bruce is more than aware that it’s a hereditary trait. He’s not crying though, so clearly not hungry or wet - he doesn’t hesitate to make his discomforts known. Just awake.

Bruce lowers the side of the crib and kneels down, resting his elbows on the mattress so his face is on the same level as the baby. Damian reaches out to him with clumsy fingers. Bruce winces at the feeling of nails on his scruffy face - he’s in need of a trim.

“What are you doing awake?” Bruce asks in a low murmur, and yet again he’s warm to his core. It doesn’t matter that he has a board meeting tomorrow, that he didn’t get in till 1AM and that his body hurts with new bruises and remembered injuries, or that the carpet under his knees isn’t really thick enough for him to kneel on it. He’s just warm.

Alfred is accustomed to waking early. It gives him time to prepare for the young masters and mistress when they wake in turn. It’s a rare morning when one of them - particularly the youngest - sleeps past seven.

This means that when seven-thirty rolls around without a peep from upstairs, Alfred goes to investigate.

He finds Masters Dick and Timothy asleep in their father’s bed, Dick sprawled on his back and snoring with Tim pillowed on his abdomen. Master Bruce’s bathroom is empty besides a discarded nightshirt left in the bath, haphazardly rinsed.

Master Jason is fast asleep in his own bed, curled like a pillbug with only his hair visible above the blankets. Cassandra, dressed in her father’s shirt which could envelope her four times over, is asleep at the foot of the bed, one of her feet threatening to encroach on Jason’s behind.

The nursery door at the end of the hall is open, sun pouring through the east-facing window and onto the hall floor. In the cot, young Master Damian is burbling quietly to himself, awake but apparently peaceful. The reason for this becomes clear when Alfred steps inside the room - Master Bruce seems to be kneeling beside the cot, forearms crossed on the mattress and head resting on top of them. He appears to be firmly asleep, despite the tiny hand prodding at his loose fingers.

“Good morning, lad,” Alfred murmurs to the baby, sweeping him into his arms. Bruce twitches at the movement, but stills under Alfred’s palm on his shoulder. “Off the floor, Master Bruce. That cannot be good for your joints.”

“Hrn,” Bruce says, blinking into the light from the window. He grunts as he levers himself up, rubbing at his face in precisely the same way he did when he was Tim or Jason’s age. In such a mountain of a man, let alone one precisely as scarred and dangerous as Alfred’s boy has grown into, it’s awfully endearing.

“Into the shower with you,” Alfred recommends. “Then breakfast. I shall rally the troops.”

By the looks of their night, he suspects they’ll be foul at being woken, and likely considerably more so by three this afternoon. Damian will shriek over an upset stomach after his morning bottle, and Timothy will refuse to nap despite being exhausted, and Dick will drag his feet over going to school while Jason cries at leaving the house despite desperately wanting to go to school. Cassandra will be quieter than usual, and terribly willful for anyone besides her father. And Bruce will likely be forgetful and shorter than usual at work, and return home tonight exhausted but determined to venture out onto the streets again.

Alfred wouldn’t trade them for anything.

#batfam #dc #batman #my fic #prompts #that stupid read more thing happened again #anyway i have the solution #yay me #bat babies

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raindancer2004 · 4 years ago

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Alec and his Cinderella

Word Count: 6,198 Alec x reader Part Five - Final Part. Warnings: Alec is aged up. Fluff, Angst, NSFW

Request for @wallwriterstuff - Y/N goes through her transformation and has fun exploring her new immortal life with Alec and her friends at the castle. Y/N also learns to develop her gift.

Alec, Y/N and Ness returned to Volterra the following summer after graduating High School. It had been agreed that Alec would change Y/N about a month after they arrived back at the castle but Y/N had one condition that she hoped Aro, Caius and Marcus would agree to when the time came.

Aro was very pleased to see that Ness had come back with Alec and Y/N “Welcome back Ness, so happy to see you again” “Thank you Aro. I remember you said I’d always be welcome and well…after the past year a change of scenery was needed” She replied “Yes, Alec mentioned it’s been a rough year with regards to…Jacob. You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you’d like my dear” Aro smiled at her “Thank you Aro, that’s very kind of you”

Ness made her way to Demetri’s room and knocked on the door; a few seconds later the door opened “Ness” He smiled and wrapped his arms around her for a hug “Demetri” Her arms wrapping around him too “I’ve missed you” He pulled back a little and pulled her into his room, she closed the door behind her with her foot “I’ve missed you too. Alec mentioned you were coming back with him. How are you?” He asked as they took a seat on the sofa “Not so good…it’s been a rough year. As you know Jake’s behaviour got worse once I got back after my stay here last summer” She replied low “I’m just glad mom and dad understood why I wanted to come back here, why I needed to come back here” Demetri wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his side “You can stay with me for as long as you’d like little one, you know that. I promised I’d keep you safe and I always will” He placed a kiss to her hair and felt her relax into him “I’m glad you said that Dem because I plan on staying a while” She placed a hand on his chest and snuggled into him “I feel better now I’m here…with you” Demetri smiled hearing this “I feel better now you’re here with me too Ness.”

A few days Y/N asked if she could meet with the masters but in a less formal setting than the throne room; it was agreed that they would meet in Aro’s private study. “Hello Aro, Caius and Marcus” She greeted when she and Demetri entered Aro’s study “Hello Y/N, Demetri. It’s nice to see you both” Aro greeted “I-I would like to discuss my transformation with you…if I may?” “Of course Y/N. What about your transformation would you like to discuss?” Caius asked “I know Alec is a little worried / nervous about turning me as he has never turned anyone before, so I wondering…if Demetri could be the room too…just in case?” She asked low “I don’t see that being a problem as long as Demetri agrees” Aro replies “Although you should know Y/N that Demetri hasn’t turned anyone either…” Aro continued before Marcus cut him off “Brother, Demetri has witnessed a few of the guards being turned by us remember and I am sure he will step in if Alec needed or wanted his help. Isn’t that right my dear boy” “Of course master, I’d be happy to be there for Y/N and Alec when he changes her” Demetri replied smiling at Y/N “Thank you” She replied looking at the four vampires.

Later that afternoon Y/N told Alec about what had been agreed between her and the masters “I hope you don’t mind but I thought we’d both feel better with Demetri in the room when you turn me” Y/N said low “Of course, I don’t mind. If I am being honest, I was planning on asking Demetri to be here with me when I changed you…just in case” Alec replied smiling wrapping his arms around her.

The following day Demetri, Ness, Jane and Felix decide to try distract Y/N from her upcoming transformation and drag her and Alec outside to the garden “Right Y/N I want another go at trying to track you as I’m curious as to how you are able to just ‘disappear’” Demetri said looking at Y/N “Ok sure I‘ll just be over there somewhere” She points to the other side of the garden. Demetri closed his eyes and took a breath and then tried to track Y/N; he found her instantly but after a few steps in the right direction, he stopped “What the..? Not again” Demetri called out sounding a little frustrated “What happened Dem?” Ness asked “Y/N…she’s disappeared…I-I can’t track her” He answered her “What are you on about D? She’s right there, I’m looking right at her” Felix said sounding amused “Yea right Fe” Demetri replied “No he’s being serious she’s standing right there, look” Jane said pointing at Y/N. Demetri made his way over to Jane and looked to where she was pointing “Huh, so she is. Well…that’s impressive” Demetri smiled looking at her “Hey Y/N you win, I couldn’t track you” He called out but she doesn’t answer, in fact she doesn’t move. “I don’t think she can hear me” Demetri sounded a little confused but then he started to realise something “Oh she’s good…even if she doesn’t know it” He says continuing to smile at her “Demetri what is it?” Alec asked “I’ll tell you once she’s changed if it still happens” He replied, the others nodding.

A week later Alec and Y/N are preparing for her transformation “Are you sure you’ll be ok changing me? I’m sure if we ask Demetri he would change me instead” She said looking into Alec’s eyes and holding his hand “Of course I would cara, anything for you Cinderella” Demetri said as he entered Alec’s room “I’ll be ok changing you Y/N, I’m just a little nervous…and although I’m happy you’ve agreed to spend forever with me I’m going to miss…certain things about you...” “Really Alec?” Demetri teased “Not that…I meant hearing her heartbeat slow as she sleeps, her warm hand in mine, the little…human things” Alec said smiling and holding Y/N’s other hand in his “I love you Alec” She kissed his lips “I’m ready when you two are” Y/N says and she leads Alec over to the bed “I love you too Y/N. I’ll see you in a few days” Alec placed a kiss to her forehead and then he kissed her neck before biting down letting his venom enter her system; tasting some her blood in the process. Alec felt Demetri’s hand on his shoulder “That’s enough Alec” Demetri said low; Alec pulled back and licked the bite wound closed “Thank you Demetri” Demetri nodded once “Would you like company Alec?” “I would yes, I need a distraction” He replied low.

Demetri stayed with Alec for the first day playing chess, cards and answering his questions about Ness “Demetri can I ask you a question?” “Of course Alec” He replied giving him his full attention “It-it’s about Ness” “What about her?” “You know she likes you right? That you’re the reason she came back this summer…she missed you” Alec said looking him in the eyes “I know and I like her too…I missed her too. I’ve told her she’s welcome to stay with me for as long she’d like and I reminded her that I’d keep my promise to keep her safe…always” Demetri replied honestly “Please don’t hurt her Demetri. I really do see her as another sister” “I could never and would never hurt her Alec. Just the thought…” He trailed off shaking his head, Alec smiled at him “You know what that means right?” “Yes Alec…but…it’s complicated” Demetri replied “I don’t think it is…” Alec smiled back “Anyway where is Ness today?” “She went shopping with Chelsea and Heidi. They wanted to get to know her a little and figured a shopping trip was the best way to do that. They also knew I’d be here with you today as you’re turning Y/N” Demetri replied “That was nice of them and Ness enjoys shopping” Alec responded “That she does” Demetri smiled “I even gave Ness my credit card” He chuckled “They’ll definitely be gone a while then” Alec chuckled in response.

The following night Demetri was sitting at his desk sorting out some paperwork when he heard the shower being shut off. A few minutes later “Demetri” Ness says gaining his attention; he turns around in his chair to see her leaning against the bathroom doorframe wearing a black silky mid-thigh length chemise with a lace trim, her hand on her hip. His breath caught in his throat as he looked her up and down feeling venom pool in his mouth; his ruby coloured eyes darkening with lust. He sped over to her, his hands going to her hips “Stunning…little one” He breathed, Ness blushed looking up at him through her lashes her hands coming to rest on his chest “It’s new.” He lent down and pressed his lips lightly against hers before pulling back a little; her arms slid upwards wrapping around his neck and she pulled him back down for a kiss licking his bottom lip and he allowed her to deepen the kiss. His hands slid down from her hips to the back of her thighs and he lifted her up into his arms; her legs wrapping around his waist “Make love to me Demi” She whispered against his lips before kissing him again; he made his way over to his bed not breaking the kiss and laid her down, him hovering over her “Are you sure?” He asked as one of his hands ran upwards from her knee to her thigh coming to stop on her hip under the chemise; he felt the lace panties and growled low in her ear as he rolled his hips against hers “Yes” She sighed and kissed his neck; her legs tightening around him holding him close to her. He sat up on his knees her legs still wrapped around him and his hands moved up her sides taking the chemise with them “So beautiful” He smiled at her appreciating the sight in front of him. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt and her hands moving up over his chest before she run her nails downwards and she heard a low growl leave him as he rested his forehead to hers; her hands continued to move lower unbuttoning his trousers, which he quickly discarded along with her panties and lifted her back onto his lap laying her down beneath him.

They both took a moment to take in the sight of each other, he leaned down and kissed her as he slowly entered her stilling halfway to allow her to get used to the new intrusion; she tapped his shoulder twice and he continued to enter her slowly until he was fully inside her, again stilling allowing her to get used to him “You’re so tight baby…and warm” She kissed him and tapped his shoulder again and he slowly began to thrust in and out of her; making love to her as she asked “Ahh” She breathed her hands on his shoulders holding him to her, she let her nails lightly scratch his back and he growled in her ear; thrusting a little harder that time, hitting a new spot inside her “Demi” His name falling from her lips like an oath, her eyes closing. He continued to make love to her, their soft moans filling his room. She felt a knot form inside her “I-I’m…Ahh…Demi” “I know baby, you’re ok. Cum for me” He encouraged her sensing she was close; his head dipping down to kiss her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud as he gently massaged her other breast. He felt her walls clench around him “Fuck…Demi!” She cried out as she came; her first orgasm washing over her completely, her hands on his back holding him closer still “I love you” She whispered low; her whole body tingled from his touch and she felt a warmth spread through her, her toes curling against his skin, her eyes closed tight yet she could see dots behind her eyelids. She felt him come inside her, filling her deeply “Oh…Ness” Her warmth pulling him over the edge and into the abyss “I love you too” He replied; leaning down he kissed her showing her just much he loved her, wanted her “Mine” He bit her neck gently claiming her and he felt her teeth sink into him, claiming him in return “Mine” She whispered and kissed him back pouring her love for him into that kiss. He pulled out of her and took her into the bathroom; washing them both in the shower before holding her in his arms all night as she slept.

The following morning Demetri and Ness went to Alec’s room to see how he and Y/N were doing. Jane and Alec were seated in the sofa reading when Demetri knocked on the door “Only us. Ok to come in?” He asked “Of course” Alec replied. They weren’t in the room long before Jane and Alec noticed the matching bite marks on Demetri and Ness’ necks and smiled at each other knowing what had transpired the previous night. “How’s Y/N doing?” Ness asked “Her heartbeat has slowed right down so she should be waking up anytime now” Alec replied “Is-is she going to be ok around me or do I need to leave? I don’t want to make her first few moments as a newborn uncomfortable for her” Ness sounded concerned “That’s sweet of you Ness” Alec got up and pulled Ness into a hug “I’m not sure how she’ll be around you…” “There are three of us and one of her cara. You’ll be safe I promise” Demetri cut him off looking down at Ness; she smiled up at him and nodded.

Ten minutes later Y/N’s heart stopped and she opened her eyes; sitting up she scanned the room her now red eyes found Alec “Alec” She was in front of him so quick he almost didn’t catch her “Sorry” She chuckled “I’ve missed you” “I’ve missed you too my love” He kissed her, his arms wrapping around her holding her close. Demetri cleared his throat gaining their attention “Hey Cinderella, looking good” He playfully winked at her, Ness giggled tapping his chest “You’re terrible Demi” “You love me” He whispered low in her ear and she nodded.

“Ness. You’re here” Y/N smiled and ran to her gently pulling her for a hug “Guess that answers that question” Jane mused. Y/N pulled back from Ness her hand rubbing her neck and stepped back into Alec “Sorry. It-It’s…” “My heartbeat” Ness finished low, Y/N nodded a slight sadness in her eyes as she looked at her friend “How about we all go hunting?” Alec said “Great idea” Jane smiled getting up “Can I come?” Ness asked low “Of course” Demetri smiled “You live with us the at the castle now…no more fluffy bunnies for you” Alec teased “Aunt Alice never said I couldn’t eat the bunny when she gave it to me as an Easter gift” Ness replied and poking her tongue out at him; everyone laughed at her “So you’ve never hunted humans before?” Y/N asked “Nope, because of the treaty and…my family’s diet choice. I’ve had a few blood bags over the years but...it’s not the same” She replied “Looks like we have two newbies to teach” Felix called from the doorway and they all set off for a hunting trip outside of the city.

Y/N could smell the humans below them and she growled low squeezing Alec’s hand hard “You’re ok Y/N I’ve got you” Alec said but her grip didn’t ease up in fact she squeezed a little harder “Felix” He called low and Felix was right behind her “Y/N you’re beginning to crush his hand, remember you’re stronger than he is right now” Felix said placing a hand on her shoulder “I-I’m sorry” She whispered letting go of his hand “It’s ok. I’m right here” Alec reassured her wrapping an arm around her waist “Just follow our lead girls” Demetri said looking at Y/N and Ness “Stay close Ness” “Always Dem” She replied. “I never thought I’d see people camping out in the Tuscan countryside” Ness chuckled “Ha –humans are strange little things Ness” Jane said amusement clear in her voice. “Y/N stay with me and watch Alec” Felix said and put his hands on her waist as Alec let go of her; Y/N’s hand instantly grabbed Felix’s thigh and squeezed hard, she looked up at him worried “I barely feel it Y/N, perks of being the world’s strongest vampire” He smiled down at her.

A few minutes later Y/N felt Felix’s breath on her neck “Now” She flashed forward grabbing one of the female campers by the throat from behind; she heard the bone crack just before she bit down on her neck, the warm blood coating the back of her throat easing the burn. Y/N closed her eyes savouring the taste “Mmm.” Jane looked over to her and smirked “She’s a natural…although a little messy” “Sister. It’s her first hunt…be nice” Alec chided playfully as he made his way over to Y/N “Messy little thing aren’t we?” He said low wiping away the blood that was dripping from her lips with his thumb “Sorry Alec” Y/N looked down “Don’t be” He lifted her head up so he could look into her eyes “It’s your first hunt and I’m so proud of you” He kissed her lips “You’ll get better the more you hunt. I promise” He added “Practice makes perfect Cinderella” Demetri smiled “Well Ness isn’t messy and it’s her first time hunting humans too” Y/N said nodding at her friend “Don’t compare yourself to Ness Y/N. She has hunted before remember” Alec said softly stroking her hair; Y/N leaned into his touch. “You did really well Y/N. You should be proud of yourself” Ness added smiling.

Once back in the castle Demetri and Ness made their way back to his room “You know for your first human hunt you did really well today” Demetri said pride evident in his voice “Although your parents may not approve” He tilted his head a smirk playing on his lips “I’m no longer living under their roof so…I don’t have to follow their rules” Ness smiled at him before kissing him; gently biting his bottom lip and he growled low kissing her back “We best start making my room our room then little one.” He said low smiling and kissed her again.

A few days later training started for Y/N and she worked really hard trying to impress not only her mate but Demetri, Jane and Felix too. “Y/N stay in my line of sight but keep a distance between us, I want to try and track you” “Ok, Dem” She replied before flashing a few feet away from him, Ness and Alec standing off to the side watching. Demetri closed his eyes and picked up Y/N’s trail almost immediately “Found you Y/N” He called out. ‘Need to get away from him’ Y/N thought to herself and when she turned around she couldn’t see anyone. “She’s done it again. I can see her but I can’t track her…she isn’t there” Demetri said looking at Alec and Ness “But we can all see her” Ness said looking confused. “I think she teleports…not location wise but time wise” Demetri says sounding a little impressed “B-but how? How did she evade you as a human?” Alec asked “I think she did the same thing as a human but she had no control over it” Demetri replied “Once she teleports I can’t track her because she moves forward in time…by how far is something we’re going to have to find out” He added.

Y/N made her way over to them “So how did I do tracker boy?” She asked, Demetri raised an eyebrow to her “What? Don’t like it?” She smirked at him “A little cocky now aren’t we Cinders” He smirked back at her. “How do you think you did Y/N?” Demetri asked “I heard you call out ‘found you’ and then I thought to myself that I needed to get away from you and when I turned around I couldn’t see any of you” She replied “It turns out you can teleport through time Y/N, that’s why he can’t track you” Alec said nodding at Demetri “That’s so cool” Y/N smiled “We just don’t know how far in time you go, but we have forever to find out” Demetri said “Is that how I got away from you back when I was human, despite not knowing I was being tracked?” Y/N asked curiously “Yes, I think it is, although it was accidental back then. You probably thought of being somewhere on time or about running late and teleported ahead in time, albeit probably only by a few seconds which is why you never noticed. Once you move though time I lose the ability to track you. Do you remember back in the castle garden a few weeks ago when I tried tracking you and although Felix and Jane could see you I lost your trail, and when I stepped beside Jane I still couldn’t track you despite looking right at you?” She nodded “Well, I kinda thought then that your gift was loosely based around teleportation and today proves it. It’s a great gift but one that is…frustrating for me” Demetri added chuckling. “So how do I control it? How do I let you track me?” She asked “Practice Y/N and patience” Alec answered this time, a proud look on his face.

A week later Y/N, Ness Alec and Demetri were in Alec and Y/N’s shared room and Y/N was bored “Can we play a game? I mean you guys do have the day off” Y/N asked Alec giving him her best doe eye look “What would you like to play?” He asked “Hide and Seek and Demetri is the seeker” Y/N said excitedly “Call it a training exercise if you want?” She added “I’m in” Demetri said getting up of the sofa “Ness?” “Obviously Demi” She replied “We’re in too” Jane said pointing at her and Felix as they entered the room.

Ten minutes later Demetri explains the rules “You all get 2 minutes to hide. No leaving the castle grounds and no hiding in the master’s quarters” Everyone nods “Right Go” Demetri says. Demetri finds Felix first in the secretary’s supply cupboard; Jane came next in a cupboard in the kitchen “What? I can fit in there easily” She laughed at his confused expression when he found her. Demetri found Ness in the north facing garden and Alec in the room next to the dungeon. “Where’s Y/N hiding?” Jane asked “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to pick up her trail and because she has no scent I can’t even find her that way” He answered. “I just have to hope that at some point she ‘allows’ me to find her.”

Y/N had hidden in the tower on the east side of the castle and looked at her watch, she had been waiting for 15 minutes and no one had come to find her ‘I wonder’ she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and concentrated on Demetri and how much she wanted him to find her. “I’ve got her” Demetri sounded surprised and took off running to the east side of the castle; noticing the closer he got the stronger her tenor became, he opened the tower door and saw Y/N sitting on the bed eyes closed, gently rocking back and forth “I found you Cinders” He said smiling and leaning against the doorframe “Thank you” She ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist “I’m so glad it worked” “So glad what worked?” He asked curious “I’d been in here for 15 minutes and you hadn’t found me so I sat on the bed, closed my eyes and concentrated on how much I wanted you to find me. I just hoped it would work” She replied “That explains why I could suddenly sense you, why your tenor suddenly appeared in my mind and I was able to track you. Looks like you’ve learnt a way to drop the shield part of your gift…well drop it enough to allow me to find you” He said looking down at her “You should be proud of yourself” Alec said from behind Demetri and Demetri nodded in agreement.

Alec and Y/N walked back to their room hand in hand “Hey Alec, I’ve just thought I’ve accomplished quite a bit in the last month. I mean we’ve worked out I can teleport through time into the future, albeit not too far into the future. Today I was actually able to drop my shield a little to allow Dem to find me and I didn’t teleport away from him, not even by accident” She sounded so pleased with herself, Alec couldn’t help smiling at her “Next step is learning to control the teleportation side of my gift” Y/N said “And you’ll get there, when you’re ready” Alec said encouragingly.

Y/N had been immortal now for a month and the three kings invited her and Ness to the throne room to participate in the fortnightly ‘tour’. Demetri and Alec were on duty and standing at the side of the room near the doors when Y/N and Ness entered and made their way over to them. “Hello Y/N, Ness so nice of you both to join us” Aro greeted them with a smile “Master, Aro” The girls replied. Meanwhile, two transitory guards stood on the opposite side of the room having a conversation, that wasn’t as private as they thought “What’s she doing here? Ain’t she the Cullen hybrid?” The blond guard asked, the other guard replied “I think so and if I’ve heard correctly, she isn’t even venomous” Both guards laughed looking over at Ness. Demetri growled loudly and felt her squeeze his hand “HOW DARE YOU?” Marcus shouted rising from his throne shocking everyone in the room “You will show her the same level of respect you would show the elite guards, the same level of respect you would show Y/N as Alec’s mate or any other mate of the higher ranking guards. IS THAT CLEAR?!” “Y-yes m-master” They both stuttered their reply; Caius sat smirking at the guards enjoying seeing them cower before the usually soft spoken king.

Aro looked over to Demetri and Ness and noticed the matching bite marks on their necks, he also noticed the way he was standing protectively in front of her and realisation washed over his face “Brother?” He looked to Marcus and held out his hand “Later brother, Heidi is here” Aro nodded before giving the ‘welcome speech’ to the ‘tourists’ and then the silent order to feed was given. Y/N took down a middle aged man quickly, Alec watched with pride as he drained a middle aged woman. Ness and Demetri simultaneously took down a couple in their twenty’s “Great minds little one” He smiled at her, she smiled back at him. “Hey Ness, I’m impressed” Felix called out smiling “You mean considering I’m not…venomous” She smirked at him and he nodded.

Once everyone had finished feeding Aro smiled looking around the room and was impressed with the newest vampire. “Y/N your kills were very controlled and efficient today…especially for a newborn. Well done” Aro praised her, Alec looked at with such pride “She learnt from the best” Alec whispered low and smiled kissing his mate.

Marcus held out his hand to Aro “Brother” Aro’s face lit up when he saw the strong mate bond between Demetri and Ness. He was happy as this meant she would not be leaving the castle anytime soon…not even to visit her family. “I assume Demetri found his mate in Ness” Caius smirked and his brothers nodded “What about the dog?” He asked “She rejected him romantically over two years ago…” Aro was cut off by Caius “You mean she friend-zoned the dog?” Caius sounded thoroughly amused “See I told you she was the clever Cullen…and that is why she’s my favourite Cullen” He added “Welcome to the family Y/N, Ness” Aro said smiling.

Y/N and Demetri practised daily for the next month as she was determined to control her teleporting as she was curious if she could go backwards as well as forwards. “We’re so lucky we don’t need to sleep” She said to Demetri “I appreciate you helping tonight instead of being with Ness” She added “It’s ok Y/N, her and Alec are having a movie night like they used to back in Forks” He replied.

“Ready Jane?” Demetri asked “Yes but I’m not quite sure why I’m here though” “You’ll see. Felix” Demetri called and suddenly Felix was behind Jane and he took the book she was holding away from her “What the…” She was cut off when Y/N suddenly appeared at her side.

“Ready Jane?” Demetri asked “Yes but I’m not quite sure why I’m here though” “You’ll see. Felix” Demetri called and suddenly Felix was behind Jane but before he could take the book she holding she put it on the cushion next to her “Did it work Dem?” Y/N asked hope shining in her ruby eyes “Yes Y/N you went back in time just enough to warn Jane about Felix” He answered smiling proudly at her “Yes!” She high-fived him “We’ve got to tell Alec” She said excitedly “No need my love, I saw the whole thing from here” Alec called from the doorway “You told him?” She looked at Demetri who shook his head “No, Demetri hasn’t told me anything other than how much he admires your determination to hone your gift.” He flashed to her placing his hands on her hips “I was curious what you four were up to so Ness and I came to watch. I know I’ve said it before but I am so proud of you my love” He captured her lips with his “I love you Alec” “I love you too Y/N.”

Y/N spent the day in her and Alec’s shared room waiting for him to return from guard duty “Hello my love” Alec purred in her ear and wrapped his arms around from behind “Alec” She breathed turning in his arms and capturing his lips in a kiss; she started undoing the buttons on his jacket before pushing it off his shoulders, his arms leaving her long enough for it to hit the floor before finding their way to her hips and pulling her close “Y/N” He sighed as she kissed his neck; biting his earlobe gently, she begun to unbutton his shirt but then decided to just rip it open letting her hands run down his chest to his belt. Alec reached behind her and unzipped her dress letting it fall to the floor, his trousers following not a second later. Y/N suddenly felt very subconscious standing before Alec in just her lace bra and panties, Alec nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other standing before her in only in boxers.

“You’re beautiful Y/N” He said low lifting her head up gently, if she was still human she’d be blushing “We-we don’t h-have to…” “Y-you don’t want…to?” Y/N asked hesitantly cutting him off; he pulled her flush against him “Oh no, I want to…I’ve wanted to for the longest time. It-it’s just if you don’t want to or aren’t ready we don’t…” He was cut off by her kissing his lips with a passion and urgency he recognised; the passion and urgency he’d been holding back the last few months of her human life. He placed his hands on her hips “Jump” He whispered, she did as he asked her legs wrapping around his waist; he flashed to the door to lock it not wanting to be disturbed before flashing to the bed and carefully laying her down and grinding his hips against her, a breathless moan left her and he felt her legs tighten around his waist. He gently pulled her up slightly and unclasped her bra throwing it aside before laying her back down and began to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck between her breasts; she run her fingers through his hair and gave it a semi-hard tug and he growled grinding her against her then took a nipple into his mouth and sucking gently before flicking it with his tongue, she arched up into him “Ahh” She sighed into his ear.

He unwrapped her legs from around him and left open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, placing a kiss on her clothed centre before kissing down her thigh to her knee; he then kissed his way up her other leg making his way back to her centre where he placed another kiss and gently sucked on her covered clit, her hips lifted upwards and he took the opportunity to remove her panties before placing a hand on her hips pushing her back down. He slipped his tongue inside her ‘she tastes like heaven’ he thought as he continued to move his tongue within her; her hands carding through his hair gently holding his head in place where she needs him most, he chuckled low the sound vibrating through her “Alec” He removed his tongue and licked upwards wrapping his lips around her bundle of nerves sucking and flicking her nub bringing her closer to the edge; he heard an almost inaudible gasp as he inserted two fingers inside gently thrusting in and out hitting that spot inside her that had her writhing beneath him. He curled his fingers inside her hitting a new spot “Ahh Alec” He smiled and sped up his actions his tongue and fingers working together to push over her edge; he felt her walls clench around his fingers, looking at up her he saw her eyes were shut tight, hands gripping the bedsheets as she experienced her orgasm. Her entire body felt alight and she was seeing stars and colours, she knew then she would never get enough of him “I love you Alec. I need you Alec…please” “I love you Y/N always”

She felt him slowly enter her stilling a moment to allow her to adjust to the new intrusion, adjust to him; he rolled his hips against hers “You’re so tight my love” He whispered “You feel so good baby” She purred in return; Alec suddenly felt very grateful for the erotica that he had borrowed from Demetri over the years as his mate was so very clearly enjoying his actions, as he bought them both closer to their release. His head dipped down and took a nipple into his mouth sucking gently, his tongue flicking the bud as he continued to thrust in and out of her semi-roughly; their moans filling the room not caring who heard them “I-I’m so…close” His hand moved to her thigh lifting it slightly and holding against him allowing him to enter her at a new angle as he sped up his thrusts hitting a new spot inside her “Come for me” He purred and he felt her walls clench around him at the same time she bit him, marked him as hers, this pulled him over the edge giving him his own release. He continued to thrust in and out of her riding out their orgasms together. “That…was…amazing” She breathed “I’m glad we waited now” “Me too and you were amazing my love” He replied kissing her “I’m never going to not want you Alec” “Glad to hear it…seeing that you’re mine forever” He replied looking into her lust blown eyes.

“My turn” She said low rolling them over so he was now lying beneath her capturing his lips in a passionate kiss; she broke the kiss and shifted lower and wrapped her mouth around Alec’s erection “Mmm” He sighed liking the feel of her mouth on him; she licked him from base to tip, her tongue swirling around the tip tasting him. She took him to the back of her throat sucking hard, her mouth moving over his entire length; his cock hitting the back of her throat each time. She felt Alec’s fingers run through her hair, grabbing a fist full and tugging on it a little “Y/N…baby” He growled when he felt her teeth graze over his length before she deep throated him again; feeling him twitch inside her, she swallowed everything he gave her “Mmm…you taste so good…you may just be my new favourite thing to eat” She winked at him; crawling up to him and kissing him, he could taste himself on her tongue as she slipped hers into his mouth deepening the kiss and fighting for dominance, which he happily gave her. He would give her anything she wanted, everything she wanted after all she was all his…finally.

#alec volturi #demetri volturi #jane volturi #felix volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi #renesmee cullen #volturi

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gisachi · 4 years ago

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4, 16, 19,20, 21, 35, 39,41,42, 46!!! Sorry it's a lot. :(

Heey Anon hi! I know this took ages because I deliberately saved this for last even though this is one of the earliest requests I got. I actually already started with your request months ago and I attempted to incorporate all of the numbers. But I discontinued it because I had a hard time cramming all the kisses into one ficlet lol. So I’m scratching that and will approach this differently. Minus all the numbers I’ve already done, I will group the kisses into three, so I’ll make three ficlets for you! This is also to make up for the lateness. XD So this is the first one. Stay tuned for the other two!

20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference. 21. A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.(1,777 words)

He is back.

Ran has a hundred reasons to believe that this is a dream, but her senses indicate otherwise.

She looks over her shoulder and he’s there, oblivious to her watching gaze. Her eyes trace the crook of his nose, dipping down to the depression of his philtrum, to his upper and lower lip that glisten with moisture, hiding the faint lines of dryness. She hasn’t noticed until now how clear and closed his pores are or how his hair turns gingerbread brown when hit by sunrays.

He sits behind her on the couch, and she feels his chest rise and fall slowly against her back, the warmth of his meditative breath fanning across her neck and causing stray strands of hair to tickle her skin. One hand is on her waist and the other over the black and white paperback print she holds open on her knees where his eyes are transfixed.

His index finger trails along unfilled white boxes as if reading Braille, deciphering the word behind each numbered riddle, and she notices how thin but slender his fingers are and his nails trimmed short, and she blushes at the slightest brush of his hand against hers.

She takes a deep breath, taking a whiff of his scent. It’s not a scent that comes and goes as when she passes by a bakery in the early morning. It lingers for a significantly longer time, the light sandalwood and musk that is uniquely his weaving like oxygen through the air.

And when he coughs, his croak resonates on her ears, and she internalizes that this sound is not a sound coming from a phone or from those hundred voicemails she’s stored, but a sound which she can source directly from his throat, from his voice box, from the actual person that is he.

Her senses indicate that this is more than a mere semblance of normalcy.

He is present. He is right here. With her.

This Shinichi is permanent.

“Earth to Ran,” he quips beside her ear, “I said number nine across is ‘aglet’.”

“Oh, right!”

Startled from her reverie, she twirls the mechanical pencil around her fingers before filling in the four blank boxes his finger is pointing at, beside the first ‘a’ of the down word ‘Neanderthal’.

She doesn’t need to look behind her to know that Shinichi is giving a curious look, directed not on the crossword puzzle but on her.

“You seem to be lost in thought,” he inquires.

“It’s nothing. It’s just…” she pauses, taking another deep breath, “I’ve been wondering.”

“About?”

“This,” she vaguely waves the pencil between them.

Shinichi perks his head back, nose crinkling in confusion. “The crossword?”

“No, no,” she chuckles, tilting her head sideways, her nose brushing his as she meets his eyes squarely. “Us. Right here. Peace. Stability. How we reached this point.”

“Oh.”

If the words didn’t come from her, she would’ve been amused by the sudden existential declarations too. But she knows he’s as used to this as she is whenever she gets emotional, and what she feels at the moment is no different from the moments he had returned in his real form in the past but this time, he’s around for much longer.

"How you’re here beside me...and actually staying,” she adds quietly, eyes lowering to the pencil she’s holding.

With an affectionate smile, Shinichi stretches a hand to caress her cheek. His skin is soft on her skin, warm to the touch and yes, this isn’t a dream. “Well, believe it or not, I’m not leaving anymore.”

As soon as he says that, a muffled ring from his pocket disrupts their little moment.

Ran’s stomach lurches. She knows what that ring signifies.

He holds one finger in front of her face as his other hand fishes for the phone in his pocket.

“Hello? Megure-keibu?”

She’s right.

“Where am I? At the Mouri Detective Agency. Yes. Yes… Uh, now?” He peers at Ran for a few seconds. His expression, though brimming with unkempt excitement, transforms into reluctance as his eyes meet her quiet ones. “Keibu, I don’t think now is the right-”

But as much as Ran doesn’t like where the next few hours may lead, she’s more mature than she ever was and knows better than convincing a warm-blooded detective to stay when his niche calls for him.

Halting him with a hand over his that holds the receiver, she mouths, ‘Go’.

Shinichi opens his mouth and closes it again. His brows furrow and he shakes his head curtly. ‘No,’ he mouths back.

Of course, she knows what’s running in his mind for it’s the same as what’s running in hers. He’s going to leave again. Ran understands the limbo that he’s in, having to choose on the spot between the only two options that comprise his happiness.

And knowing him, she has a hunch of what he might choose.

“Kudou-kun?”

“Megure-keibu, I-I’m sorry but I-”

Ran’s grip on his hand tightens, and she speaks a little above a whisper. “Shh. Don’t worry about me, Shinichi. This is the first time in two weeks TMPD calls for you again. I know you’re waiting for this.”

Her tone is firm and compelling and genuine, as genuine as the look of understanding she’s giving him, eager to wipe away whatever doubt and guilt he might be feeling for possibly leaving her again. He might be leaving, but Ran knows he’ll return. This is different from the past where everything is uncertain. This time, this time, for sure...he’ll return.

And she leaves him quiet, so quiet she can hear the hustle of the department on the other line. With a slow and reluctant huff of breath, Shinichi regards her with a light nod, and replies to the inspector, “Got it, keibu.”

“Sorry for the trouble. I already sent Satou-keiji and Takagi-keiji to fetch you. They’ll be there in a minute,” the receiver says. Shinichi acknowledges and hangs up.

She is ready to give him a teasing look, maybe pretend that she’s mad or anything to push his buttons, but she isn’t prepared for the tight hug that comes immediately after he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

Over her shoulder, Shinichi’s remorse is palpable from the way he groans heavily.

“God, Ran. Here I go again, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Wha- It’s okay, Shinichi!” Ran laughs mirthfully. “Really.”

He raises his head from where it burrows in her neck. “No. You’re disappointed. I can feel it.”

“Listen. If I have to choose between not letting you go and then having your attention divided by the prospect case and me, or letting you go to solve the case - which I know you can do so easily - and then coming back to me afterwards with your full undivided attention on me guaranteed, you know damn well which I’ll pick, right?” she says matter-of-factly, doting his forehead with the pencil.

That isn’t a lie considering how aware she is of Shinichi’s state - those dark creases under his eyes are a sign he’s been up most nights reading mystery novels, perhaps to compensate for the lack of real life mysteries coming for him.

Now that one finally arrives, how can she let it bypass him?

Even if she isn’t a huge fan of mysteries, since Shinichi loves it, and she loves Shinichi, little by little she’s learning to be thankful when they come his way, too.

“You’re not mad, are you?” he asks sheepishly, still not letting go of his arms around her waist.

“I will be if you won’t come back,” she chides, eyes narrowing acutely. She delivers it as a joke, but he doesn’t need to ask twice to understand she doesn’t mean it as one.

Outside, they hear tires screeching to a halt, indicating the arrival of his ride. Both rise from the couch, and Ran assists Shinichi to the door before the two officers can get out of the car to fetch him.

Shinichi bids her goodbye, and she watches as the man goes down the agency stairs.

In that moment, her chest tightens.

Shinichi with his back turned and departing away from her have always left a bitter taste in her mouth. This time, he’s doing it again.

Although assured that this Shinichi is permanent, still, she always finds the need to ask.

“Shinichi…” She halts three steps before the end of the stairs, just before he pulls the car door open. “You will come back, right?”

It is a simple question pregnant with meaning if specifically asked of someone she’s had the craziest history with. Shinichi knows why, knows where she’s coming from, knows the hundred implications she implores when she asks it.

And so, pausing on his feet, he faces her resolutely and walks to her. In front of her on the stairs he leans up, hand bracing her neck before he pulls her down for a kiss.

It’s only a quick press of lips but enough to convey the answer in his heart.

Even so, in that brief interval, she becomes hyperaware of everything.

The secure hand buried in her hair. The lovely smell of his sandalwood cologne. The sight of his red cheeks before and after he meets her lips. The sweet taste that lingers even when he separates.

Her senses indicate that this is more than a mere semblance of reality. Shinichi has never pressed his lips against her before. But in a matter of seconds, he suddenly does. And she feels his message everywhere.

This, indeed, is better than what any dream can offer.

“I’ll return to you before it gets dark. I promise,” he says quietly, face a breath away from her own. With what he has done and what she has felt, she knows he means it.

By the time Ran recovers from the daze, he is already in the backseat of the police car. She notes his half lidded eyes and crimson cheeks and ears, a look that is equally shared by the two police officers in front, except that their lidded eyes are more teasing in that respect. The belated realization that they were seen leads her to blush as intensely as he does.

Satou-keiji rolls her window down to give Ran a gaily salute. “We’ll bring him home before night, Ran-san, we promise!” she parrots before zooming away, no longer catching Ran’s embarrassed wave back.

Left behind, Ran waits until the car disappears from sight, gracious smile never leaving her face. She blinks back at the horizon with his promise at the back of her mind.

“I’ll be waiting, you idiot,” she whispers in the air.

#shinran #kiss prompts #fanfic #this is 6 months late haha sorry!#though it's no content november #I still can't resist posting #because it's one year of shinran writing for me yay!#this is me celebrating...by writing more hehe #anw I feel a bit rusty here!#but I still hope this is coherent #hope you like it anon!#will post the other two fics anytime~#thank you for the requests!

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