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avnkin · 4 years ago

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Not What It Seems ( d.m )

Summary: Draco starts spreading rumours about you and you demand to know why.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k ish

Warnings: angst and draco being mean

Author’s Note: here’s my first draco fic!!! i’m currently working on 4 others, one series, two requests and a one shot that i’m 8k words deep into,, please continue sending in requests i love hearing your ideas and writing them out!<3 PSA I wrote this in like an hour so it’s not my best work lmao I just wanted to post something since i’ve been so inactive (not my gif)

You and Draco had always had a sort of rivalry going on between the two of you. Everyday in class he’d throw a snide comment directed your way which you’d send right back with a remark of your own.

Everyone had gotten used it by now the teachers hardly bothering to intervene whenever you two were having one of your ‘arguments’ in class.

It had been a monday when the rumours had started. You’d been walking to your charms class when you noticed the abnormally large crowd of Slytherin girls stop and stare when you walked past, whispering in each other’s ears while they not so subtly pointed at you.

You’d thought nothing of it since most of those girls hated you and made damn sure you knew it so that wasn’t anything new, but the stares and giggles had continued on for the rest of the day and not just from the Slytherin’s but the other houses as well, what the hell was going on?

When you’d finally made it to your last class of the day you’d grown fairly sick of it. Hermione had taken a seat next you which was when you knew something was definitely up since she always sat next to Ron and you to Harry.

She’d given you a worried glance which you’d returned with one of confusion.

“Why is everyone acting so weird?” you finally asked noticing the lingering stares from your fellow classmates who quickly looked away whenever you made eye contact.

“I was actually coming to see if you knew” Hermione had hesitantly replied, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat.

“Knew? knew what” you inquired feeling the tiniest hint of nerves as you watched Hermione bite down on her, lip carefully contemplating her next words.

“There’s been this rumour... about you” Hermione cautioned, it was obvious she didn’t feel comfortable telling you this but you didn’t care continuing to press on her.

“What rumour?”

“Well it’s just people have been saying that you’ve been- uh sleeping around” she spoke the last part of her sentence quietly as she looked down onto her lap “please don’t think I’m judging you, I would never do that what you do in your own time is entirely your business and no one else’s, it’s just to bad nobody at this school seems to be familiar with the word privacy- but anyways, I just wanted you to hear it from me rather then anybody else”

Your eyes widened at her words and you suddenly became very aware of the students that we’re still staring now knowing what they were thinking made it ten times worse.

“What? why would anyone think that” your voice wavered even though you felt like you knew exactly who had started the rumour, Malfoy.

He’d seen you with a fellow Slytherin boy the other night, you knew that because you’d made very awkward eye contact with the platinum blond once you’d entered they boys dormitories.

It hadn’t been anything like everyone seemed to think, but you couldn’t go telling people that you were sneaking around with a boy who was helping you cheat on your tests.

You hadn’t been doing well in school so you saw no harm in paying someone off to do your homework or work on spells that would enable him to talk to you during tests and tell you the answers. Your family was wealthy which was why you knew they wouldn’t question the missing money.

You figured that Draco had been watching you whenever you’d sneak into the Slytherin common room but decided to keep it to himself until today apparently.

When he walked into the classroom accompanied by his usual entourage, you gave him the deadliest stare you could muster which he only replied too with a wink.

It infuriated you that he’d been spreading such lies about you, who did he think he was? Even if you had been sleeping with the boy it wasn’t his or anyone else’s damn business.

Since the teacher had yet to arrive you angrily stood up stomping towards Draco, wanting to get more than a few things off of your chest.

When you finally stood in front of his desk you slammed both your hands down on the wooden surface causing him to turn towards you leaning back in his chair his signature smirk resting on his lips.

“Anything I can help you with Y/L/N” his voice was smooth, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, asshole.

“You can stop telling lies about me for starters” you chided, rolling your eyes once you heard the ‘oh’s’ from around you, clearly you’d caught the attention of the rest of the class.

“They’re not lies and you know it” he challenged now sitting up fully in his chair.

“Yes they are and why do you even care Malfoy? Are you jealous” that sentence seemed to throw him off as he uncomfortably shifted in his chair his body language changing in mere seconds.

That’s when you realized you’d hit a soft spot, smirking before continuing “oh I get it, that’s it, you’re in love with me aren’t you” you teasingly pouted leaning forward on his desk to rest your chin in your palm smiling innocently up at him.

A bright pink tint appeared on his cheeks as he took in a deep breath giving you a warning glare which you ignored even though you knew you were skating on thin ice.

“Poor Malfoy can’t even get the girl he likes”

That’s when he seemed to snap, quickly getting up pushing the chair from behind him causing it to almost fall to the floor but Zabini’s arm had caught it just in time.

He placed his fingers on the desk in front of him, all embarrassment seeming to fade off of him as he looked you up and down, his signature smirk now back on his lips.

“Believe me Y/L/N, I don’t want you and neither does anyone else so any guy who says he’s interested in you beyond just fucking you is full of shit”

You’d been expecting him to say a lot of things but not that. You stood frozen for a couple of seconds, this was probably the first time you couldn’t come up with anything to say.

His words had cut deep and the chortles from the students around you weren’t helping at all. You felt tears beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes but you didn’t dare let them fall, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt so you just shook your head before heading straight for the exit of the classroom.

“That was a low blow Malfoy, even for you” Hermione glared at him before hurriedly standing up and following you out into the hallway.

Draco didn’t melt into the cheers and laughter of his friends like he usually did, instead he sunk into his seat ignoring everyone around him.

He knew what he’d said wasn’t true but he’d been so blinded by jealousy when he saw you enter another boys dormitory that he’d gone to Blaise and told him that he wouldn’t be surprised if you would have gone through the entire Slytherin house by the end of the term.

He truly didn’t know why he did it and a sudden guilt creeped onto him as flashes off your hurt face lingered in his mind.

Tears were now fully falling down your cheeks, you felt embarrassed and humiliated, he’d given all the students yet another thing to gossip about without a care in the world.

“Y/N!” Hermione’s voice sounded from behind you causing to you quickly stop and turn around gladly accepting the comforting hug she engulfed you in as soon as she reached you.

“He’s full of shit Y/N don’t you dare let someone like him be the cause of your tears. You are so much more than his stupid comments believe me” you nodded letting her wipe away your tears.

You stayed out in the hallway for a couple more minutes but when you saw professor Snape walking past you, you didn’t feel like getting yelled at for being late as well so you and Hermione quickly followed after him.

As soon as you walked into the classroom all eyes were on you but you ignored them keeping your head held high as you walked back to your seat not daring to look over at Draco.

After class had finished you felt much better having spent your time with ‘the golden trio’ letting them cheer you up, your embarrassment long forgotten as the four of you made your way into the Great Hall for dinner.

You’d been walking behind them having been to caught up in your own thoughts when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist pulling you into an empty corner of the hallway along with them.

You let out a yelp as you were pressed against a wall a hand coming up to cover your mouth. You quickly looked up at your assailant only to be met with a pair of grey eyes you weren’t expecting to see, Draco.

“Calm down it’s just me”

You immediately pushed him off of you “Is that supposed to make feel better? God you’re such an arse” you scoffed attempting to walk away from him but he grabbed your arm again pulling you back in front of him.

“Y/N please hear me out” he pleaded, the mention of your first name startling you a bit, not once in all your years at Hogwarts had he called you Y/N.

“Y/N huh, that’s new” you folded your arms over your chest glaring up at him.

He ignored your words as he fiddled with his fingers clearly trying to think of an apology good enough for what he had said earlier.

“Shit, Y/N- I mean Y/L/N, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said that it was stupid, I-I hope you know I don’t actually think that, It’s just when I saw you with him I got so mad, I don’t know why I-I didn’t mean it-“

“You didn’t mean it? Well that sure as hell didn’t stop you from saying it in front of the entire bloody class” you cut him off now resting your hand on your hip.

“I know, I- I don’t know what to say except that I’m really sorry” he shook his head before he turned to walk away from you, but just as he was about to round the corner you called out after him.

“I’m sorry for what I said as well”

He stopped dead in his tracks before slowly making his way back to stand in front of you, you were now very much aware of how close the two of you were and you almost invontarily backed into the stone wall causing him to take another step towards you.

“Well you weren’t exactly wrong”

“Oh so you were jealous” you teased looking up at the platnium blond who already had his eyes glued on you a small smile resting on his lips

Instead of answering he surged forward pressing you even harder into the wall, his hands wrapping around your waist as his lips connected with yours.

Your eyes widened at his actions as you stood frozen against him which he seemed to notice after a couple of seconds quickly pushing himself off of you.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet your lips again.

He hungrily kissed you back his arms wrapping around your torso before travelling down to your hips pulling you even more into him.

“What on earth is going on here” professor McGonagall’s voice suddenly sounded from beside you causing the two of you to quickly jump away from each other.

“Oh- uhm sorry professor we were just- uhm” you tried to come up with an excuse turning your head towards Draco hoping he would help but he just stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Detention, both of you for the next two weeks”

#draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter imagine #harry potter #tom felton imagine #tom felton

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sugar-petals · 3 years ago

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♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass. Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground. Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this. You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

#maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin fanfic #maneskin scenario #måneskin #maneskin fluff #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #ethan x reader #ethan torchio fluff #ethan torchio fanfic

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years ago

Text

➳april’s fool ♡

in which fred weasley is in love with y/n l/n, the girl he happens to tease and insult profusely for her attention.

fred weasley x gryffindor!fem!reader

word count: ±4.3k

tw: food, fireworks, pranking, fred being a bully, tad bits of swearing

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

ft. minnie, dumbledore and severus

yeah, your grandmama probably know me

get more bottles, these bottles are lonely

it's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', "wow"

april’s fool

“tomorrow is april fools,” dumbledore sighs.

“you know what that means...?” mcgonagall asks, her voice on edge.

“the twins,” snape replies quickly, not even bothered one bit as he sips his dark coffee.

“and their pranks,” dumbledore dramatically rolls over in his armchair.

“okay and?”

“they’re a hazard, severus!” mcgonagall replies.

“that doesn’t stop them.”

“what will stop them?” dumbledore ponders, eyes faint with interest.

“you still have those weird buzzy fireworks right?” snape asks.

“of course.”

“and minnie, you have the cake mix your grandmother gave you?”

“still in my cupboard next to the biscuits.”

“excellent.”

y/n l/n listens from the other side of the door, grinning. she’s been called to mcgonagall’s lavish office for some business she hopes isn’t trouble, but the conversation the three are deeply invested in piques her interest.

she likes fun. the type of continuous laughter and uncontrollable fits of giggles at noon. that’s why she enjoys the pranks the twins play. they’re bold, sharp and reckless and have the undoubtable trademark of fred and george on them.

one too a many times she’s been on the receiving end of them. one time the twins had charmed the library so that she and other studious students could not find any books that they wanted or needed for a whole week.

another time, her hair had been dyed bright pink. she wasn’t a fan of it, but tried her best to rock it. it worked. y/n had received many compliments on her bubblegum pink locks.

she laughed it off a lot. whenever something quite embarrassing happened, it was usually funny.

even the snide remarks the older twin always cast her way.

including the time he called her a blackhead. well, multiple times.

“oi, l/n, looking like a blackhead.”

george had rolled his eyes at his brother before adding kindly, “at least you have nice hair. your tie’s always shiny too.”

she had just laughed, “at least i’ve got the blackhead looks to pull pink hair off, weasley, you can’t even pull off ginger hair, and thanks, georgie. love ya.”

fred had looked taken aback, but y/n still scowls at the memory. she gets she isn’t pretty, but there is a line you don’t cross when trying to insult someone.

he always calls her the most awful nicknames too; body parts that align with her name and random pieces of rubbish she isn’t bothered to remember.

she shakes herself of her thoughts and draws herself up, knocking thrice on the door lightly.

“come in,” mcgonagall’s calm tone beckons.

“good afternoon professors!” she chirps, smiling at all three.

they smile back. even snape. they’re big fans of the girl, who’s studious but mischievous. albus dumbledore has always thought that y/n’s eyes always look like all she’s seen is a beautiful sunset.

“now you must wonder why i called you here,” mcgonagall starts.

“you see, how have you punished the weasley twins when they play all those pranks on you?” dumbledore eagerly asks.

y/n gives a light laugh, “i just prank them back. i won’t get detention for this, right?” she jokes.

they laugh, “of course you will,” snape jokes back and for a second y/n is surprised that severus snape, the ever so cold potions professor, is cracking jokes. especially to her.

“well then, i guess i can’t tell you how i prank them back then,” she drawls dramatically.

“no, no, do tell, we’re, what do you young people say?” mcgonagall pauses, “ahh yes! we’re all ears!”

y/n bursts out laughing, “okay, i usually do something that’s subtle enough but still very noticeable. they need to be anonymous too, or that’ll start prank wars and i’m only looking for short term pleasure really. one time, i dumped a whole bunch of polyjuice potion in both their little goblets. fred became george and george became fred. they were so confused.”

mcgonagall is impressed.

“can you bake?” dumbledore asks and y/n shakes her head for a long time.

“can’t bake for my sanity.”

“awesome. that is what i thought too,” dumbledore answers and y/n smiles.

a single knock sounds. it’s proper and formal.

“come in!” mcgonagall yells.

draco malfoy in all his glory steps into the room, eyes alight with concern, ever so indifferent.

y/n knows him from quidditch. they’ve become relatively good friends, though she thinks he is very busy with his home life. she also knows that there’s more to him than the facade he has.

“afternoon,” he nods and gives a charming smile.

“now, draco, i understand your mother had enrolled you in baking classes,” snape says.

draco nods.

“you must bake a cake,” mcgonagall hands him the cake mix.

she hands y/n the box of fireworks and winks.

“good day professors! make sure to be at breakfast tomorrow!” y/n shouts, dragging draco with her to the kitchens.

soon draco is laughing with y/n, at her atrocious puns and lightly placed jokes, finding himself very much happy. he’s not interested in her romantically, he simply enjoys her company. he’s even sharing some funny stories of his own too.

“...and i told him, to precisely fuck off.”

“so that’s how you deal with him!”

“oh no, he didn’t stop. he kept bugging me.”

“what did you do then?”

“i cast a muffliato charm on him.”

y/n bursts into laughter as they pass the gryffindor common room, quickly hiding the box of fireworks in her cloak as she spots two red heads quietly snickering by the fat lady.

they notice the unlikely pair scurrying down the stairs.

“hey, google eyes!” fred shouts.

y/n doesn’t know fred well enough to decide if that greeting is dedicated to herself, so she continues upon her way.

“weasley,” draco states.

“huh?” y/n fakes oblivion.

draco jerks his head in the way of the twins, where fred is smirking handsomely, leaning against the wall in a model-like fashion.

george is shaking his head in dismay.

“i said googly eyes!” fred shouts again.

y/n won’t lie, she thinks fred has undoubtedly good looks and his ginger hair is cute. he’s just a terrible person. to her, at least. she knows she’s biased, she’s often seen fred comforting ginny after a bad fight with a boyfriend, and from what she’s heard from alicia and angelina and katie, he’s funny too.

she whips out her glasses and stares deadpan at him, before rolling her eyes and running with draco down the stairs, laughing like madmen.

they finish baking late at night, and waving her wand smartly over the cake, y/n produces a charm that will make the fireworks activate as soon as the cake is cut open.

draco smiles as he pipes purple and orange roses, writing a ‘happy bday fred and george’ in chocolate letters.

they add lots of sprinkles, hoping to seem like avid admirers of the twins.

“does miss l/n and misters malfoy need any assistance?” a house elf asks.

draco just about opens his mouth to snap a ‘no’ when y/n gives him a silencing look.

“thank you rosemarie, but that is not needed, you are welcome to watch and talk with us though,” y/n politely answers, giving her a grin.

the house elf sniffles, “miss l/n is too nice! rosemarie will make some hot chocolate for her! pretty hair!”

y/n laughs, “thank you very much, rosemarie. i think mister malfoy would also like some hot chocolate, with a tiny bit of firewhiskey, if that’s alright with you,” she winks at draco who just scoffs in reply.

when they’re finished with the cake and the hot chocolate, y/n enters the gryffindor common room. angelina takes the cake and wraps it up in a box and nice wrapping paper. she sends it flying to the twins’ usual spot on the gryffindor table.

“thanks angie!” y/n smiles, getting up from the cozy spot near the fire in the common room.

“why are you going? we’re staying up till midnight for the twins’ birthday; wanna join?” angelina asks.

y/n shakes her head, “i’m not too close with them, it seems like a rather intimate ceremony,” she keeps her words fluffy and light. really, she would join any birthday celebration, but she didn’t think she could handle the constant insults and annoying comments fred always made about her. and this would have been completely acceptable if she had done something to any one of the weasleys, but she hadn’t. she even regards ginny weasley as a little sister and was invited to one of ginny’s infamous slumber parties. okay, she might have a little crush on him for his joke-ish nature, but it’s nothing she can’t get over. he’s out of her league, for sure, she thinks. and terribly rude. she doesn’t understand why she still harbours those feelings for him. maybe because that time adrian pucey was mocking her for her ‘blood purity’ he stood up for her. or that time she hurt herself at quidditch and fred stayed up with her bandaging her wound. he cared when it mattered, she guesses.

“i’m sure they would love you there.”

“fat chance,” she scoffs, “have a good night!”

she goes to her own dormitory up the stairs. she’s well known in gryffindor house, but for different reasons than the twins may be. although she’s close with angie and alicia, she’s not close with the twins. mainly because she’s always studying, playing quidditch, and doing prefect things.

being on a quidditch team with fred weasley is bearable. mainly because she’s the captain.

she’s stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. the owner of the hand swivels and suddenly a grinning fred is revealed.

“where’re you going?” fred weasley’s annoying voice pronounces.

“the sahara desert,” she snaps back dryly, “you’re in the way of my world exploration.”

“am i, really?”

“‘course,” she reigns her attitude in, “nice night, isn’t it?”

“for you? never.”

she scowls. fred watches in utter amusement as she takes a deep breath and charmingly smiles.

“dearest freddie, will you please allow me to get to my dorm so i can have some sleep?”

fred’s heart skips a little at the nickname but shakes his head.

“what’s the password?”

y/n sighs. “i don’t know. y/n is a blackhead. googly eyes. whatevers.”

fred lets out a loud laugh. y/n finds herself trying hard not to laugh with him.

she turns around, ready to find her hufflepuff friend that has a spare bed in their dormitory, knowing fred is really stubborn.

“that’s not the password.”

“well, good night.” she walks off, before intensely diving in a style harry potter himself would be proud of, onto the stairs and running up the dorms laughing.

fred stands at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open.

“close your mouth, flies will be caught,” he heard the giggling voice of y/n.

“close yours and you’ll look better,” he insults back.

“oh shut up. we know i’m the prettier one. and that’s saying something.”

the next morning, fred and george wake up to presents, a rowdy common room, and a nice cake sitting waiting for them on the gryffindor table.

for the first time, y/n takes a seat opposite them, her eyes alight with the familiar mischief they always held. she steals glances at the professors, who were beaming down with interest, as if they shared an inside joke. draco malfoy has an odd smirk on his pale face.

all eyes are on them as they cut open the cake. with a bang, fireworks come flying out of the cake in all directions, sending crumbs and icing flying in the air and leaving soot on the twin’s faces. their ginger hair is covered neatly with white icing and the fireworks continue for a calamitous five minutes. everyone’s too busy laughing and trying to dodge the flying cake to see that y/n l/n and draco malfoy are laughing quietly in a corner together, both with spells like umbrellas.

fred’s eyes, however, are trained on y/n, who’s rolling over in laughter. he quickly casts a scourgify on himself and george, and strides casually over to her and malfoy, the usual lazy smirk on his face as he hears ‘draco ohmygosh that was the best. your cake decos are on point! d’ya think he’ll ever bully me again?’. that confirms his suspicions. she did play this prank on him. and it makes him feel fuzzy inside.

his face then contorts into a frown. she thinks he bullies her?

“i wouldn’t say he bullies you, y/n.”

he smiles. never mind.

“but it isss! i can assure you, there is absolutely nothing nice ‘bout being called a frame!”

fred snorts at the time y/n had been gushing adorably over a picture frame that was embellished with gold and bronze flowers to angelina. he had went over and in an attempt to catch her attention, said ‘you’re a frame’.

sure, he was good at flirting, but not to the girls he really really liked.

“that’s fucking funny,” malfoy laughs.

“oh shut it draco, your face is funny. but yeah, i should probably ask him to start fresh.”

he decides to interrupt their conversation.

“ask who to start fresh?” he butts in.

y/n doesn’t even look surprised, “in fact, you, fred, because i’m not really sure if i’ve done anything wrong to you or anything, and by my memory i don’t think i have and you keep being rude and stuff. if i have, i’m really sorry for it and i’m sorry that i hurt you and all. if we can y’know, start over, and maybe be friends?” she catches the unreadable look in fred’s eyes and hesitates, “or maybe not, that’s okay, we don’t need to!” she gives a small laugh, “er, sorry for ever bringing it up?”

the earnestness of her tone and the wistful look in her eyes makes fred fall a little harder. ever since he saw her nervously fiddling with her robes in first year, he’s been smitten.

there’s a silence. malfoy has slipped off, the sneaky bastard.

fred simply takes y/n’s hand, giving her a look as if to ask for permission.

she swallows and nods.

they’re in the courtyard, which is sunny and light. flowers are blooming everywhere.

“can i kiss you?” fred asks.

y/n’s eyebrows go up. “what?”

“can i kiss you?” fred repeats patiently.

“as in kiss? k-i-s-s?” y/n asks, eyes wide with suspicion and curiosity.

“yep,” he chuckles, “crazy, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you’re crazy.”

“really? can i kiss you?”

“i’ve never really kissed anyone.”

“i guessed that.”

her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“there better be a good reason because i was saving it for someone special.”

“i need a yes, love.”

she huffs, “yes.” she won’t tell him that she has a crush on him, because to be honest, she still isn’t sure if this is a prank or not.

she surprised when fred tilts her head up ever so gently, a smile on his face.

this kiss is short and sweet. he tastes like cinnamon.

when they’ve let go, fred notices the light pink dusted over her cheeks. he smirks.

“you have to tell me why you thought i’ve never kissed anyone,” she said, eyes flashing in deep thought.

“such a beautiful person as you does not deserve kisses from anyone.”

“...”

fred took this as a sign to go on. “the reason i’ve always teased you endlessly is because i want your attention. i didn’t think you’d give it to me any other way. if you haven’t noticed, i’m in love with you. i think you’re absolutely beautiful, both ways. i love it when you frown and get annoyed, even if you rarely do, i love it when you study so hard your face makes this really concentrated look. i love it especially when you laugh and smile and joke and play pranks. even if they’re on me.”

“...” she was studying his movements. inside her brain, a frenzy was going on. part of her brain- the ever so optimistic part, was screaming happily, and the logical part was using body language to analyse whether he was lying or not.

eyes? their honey brown colour was glistening with affection and truth, an expression so dainty on his face.

a quaint little smile was on his lips, a small one, a genuine one. it was different to all the other smiles she’d seen him smile.

he wasn’t acting, she decided. if he was, he should take up a job in broadway.

“y/n?”

her brows were furrowed. she’d never been confessed to as genuinely as this before.

if they started this type of relationship would he still be mean and insult her all the time?

“i-i need time. to figure this out.”

he doesn’t look disappointed, she thinks. instead he looks down at her with... adoration?

“of course, sweetness, anything, i’ll wait for you.”

she smiles, “thank you, freddie.”

☆

it’s been a few days since fred’s confessed to her. she’s still unsure if he was joking or not. why?

at this moment, she’s watching him giggle with angelina johnson. it seems like he’s forgotten everything and anything. he’s gotten closer to her. maybe he’s lost feelings for y/n? she can’t blame angie, she’s a wonderful girl. if he likes her, that’s fine too. suddenly her feelings for him become very clear. she like-likes him. and it’s a bit too late.

but maybe he doesn’t like angie in that way? maybe he’s still into her?

y/n knows molly weasley raises her children with patience. she should trust that fred’s waiting for her.

but then again, she’s never gonna be as special as angie johnson. she’s just a ever so polite and outgoing nerd. someone who’s foolish enough to prank. angie’s smart, confident and funny and terribly patient. and effortlessly beautiful. she’s got the true gryffindor touch. and angie’s been one of fred’s best friends since day one. she’s always gonna be number 1.

that’s ok. she’ll accept it. she likes angie anyway. it was probably a joke anyway.

she couldn’t be jealous, just a bit dismayed that it wasn’t genuine. whatever, she thinks. we can just go back to how we were before. or not.

and it’s relatively easy. they never really saw much of each other anyway. she’ll get over this tiny little liking.

it’ll just be like normal. none of this happened. none of it. she grimaces bitterly, damning fred for his stupid games. should’ve known this was another of his pranks. but his acting though, certainly very good.

she smiles to herself.

“knock it off, y/n, you’re here to learn, not to love.”

and that answer, is satisfactory.

she gets up from her spot on the gryffindor table rather abruptly, saying goodbye to her friends, and makes her way to the kitchens. she knows she won’t be alone, she’ll talk to hansel and gretel, the twins that cook with the house elves every dinner.

they’re cleaning up as she walks in, book in hand.

“hi hans, g!” she calls, as she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to help them with the dishes.

“y/n!” gretel gives her a hug with soapy arms and y/n giggles.

“how are both of you?” y/n asks.

“good, good, potions though...” hansel trails off and they all laugh.

“potions is always like that,” y/n agrees, “it’s supposed to be really hard for newts, so you can’t really blame the subject.”

“i’m thinking of dropping divination,” gretel says.

“yeah, that’s wise, gretel buns,” hansel teases and gretel scowls.

“divination is an easy subject, gretel, you just need to make random stuff up. i saw this weird bear thing in polly’s tea leaves, it wasn’t in the textbook. i told trelawney it was a symbol that a stranger would come and whip polly off her feet, with a whip the colour of the rarest german emeralds, leaving her absolutely smitten. i got full marks,” y/n laughs.

they laugh too, and soon a light flowing conversation is shared over cups of hot chocolate.

this is repeated for quite a few days and y/n even invites polly, marla and lenox, her best friends, to join. it’s a delicate, nice kind of week, one that suits her current struggles.

when the weekends roll around, hansel and gretel suggest that they all sit at the hufflepuff table. they share jokes and quips over the food, y/n reading a book as she bites happily into apple pie.

“pfft,” her lips upturn ever so slightly at the quote that the character makes.

fred watches her from the gryffindor table, utterly confused. y/n’s been avoiding him. he sees the flashes of hurt that run through her eyes whenever she sees him, and the quick grin that’s far too fake that follows. she’s been reading a lot more and he never sees her anymore.

he wonders what he’s doing wrong. so as he sees her walking with her friends to hogsmeade, he calls for her.

“y/n!”

her friends giggle as they see him, but she gives him a fleeting glance and raises her eyebrows at them, shaking her head, before profusely apologising to each one of them.

she approaches him warily, with all practicality in mind. she leads with her heart, but her head protects her.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice, shame on me.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he states.

“what would you expect?” she snaps, “isn’t this all a good laugh for you anyway?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know what i mean, this was all a joke, wasn’t it? fooling my poor little heart which you know has a crush on you. my head simply won’t allow it. admit it, and we can both move on with our lives,” her tone is sharp and cold, her eyes burning with fury and hurt, “i may seem gullible, and i am,” she gave a short laugh, “but when i notice, don’t even try to lie.”

“this wasn’t a joke, love.”

“don’t call me that, and you and i both know it is. your acting though, absolutely superb!”

“what makes you think this was a prank, y/n? you were the one who asked for time.”

“yes, and the time made me realise that i had feelings for you despite all the teasing AND the fact you couldn’t possibly be genuine!” y/n says exasperatedly, her fury dissolving quickly, “you looked so in place with angie and everyone that it’s so obviously some sort of fun thing you did to try to get back at me!”

“angie?”

“a-and everyone else.”

“angie?” fred’s eyes were amused.

“you know, angelina, as in johnson.”

“angie?”

y/n shrugs, “you did bring her to the yule ball last year.”

“angie??!!!” fred was full on smirking now, as if trying to receive a real response.

“i think you like her, okay?! are we done here? i’d very much like a good book from f&b,” y/n sighs.

“i’ll accompany you to flourish and botts. why would you think i like her? didn’t i just confess to you?”

“yeah but it seemed kinda...” y/n trails off, not wanting her insecurities to come off as compliment fishing, “kinda far-fetched.”

“meaning?” fred knows exactly what she means.

“you know!”

“oh but i don’t,” he smiles innocently.

“well, you’re you!”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he asks, faking a look of hurt rather well as y/n looks alarmed.

“no, no, as in, you’re nice to look at, and you’ve always insulted me and been so nice and cool to everyone. are you for real?”

“nice to look at?” a cocky grin is on his face now, much more noticeable than the slight blush that was creeping up his face.

“is that the only thing you could pick up?”

“nice to look at? what’s up with me repeating myself today?”

y/n lets out an agitated sigh. he doesn’t know, he’s blunt and straightforward. she likes cushioning her words.

“y’know, handsome? good looking?”

“my middle names.” another smirk to conceal the blushing.

y/n smiles. “of course, everyone knows it.”

it makes fred uncomfortable. her light tone is a bit menacing too.

“only joking.”

“i’m sure everyone does know it, darling.”

y/n is too busy looking at the dog that passes by to hear him, rambling quietly to herself over the cute scottish terrier.

“sorry, what was that?”

“aren’t i cuter than the dog?”

“nup.”

“really?” fred casually slings an arm over y/n’s shoulders, having to stoop a little lower to reach her.

“i think so.”

“well i’ll tell you something love, i think you’re absolutely stunning.”

“some love potion you’re on.”

“uh huh, the love potion is called love, sweetness.”

“so you’re for real?”

“as real as you and me.”

“you’re cheesy. this isn’t a prank right?”

“not at all, i love you.”

“i-i don’t think i love you just yet, but i think it’s possible,” y/n bites her lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

she tilts her head to look at him.

he’s beaming. he looks more handsome than ever, a sweet smile etched on his face as he looks down at her in utter adoration.

“you have a crush on me!” he pulls her into a hug and giggles like a little girl, kissing the top of her head.

she’s engulfed by the smell of burning wood and cinnamon and immediately feels safe in his strong arms.

“how’d you say we go on a date? so i can show how sorry i am for all the times i called you googly eyes and played pranks on you.”

“i’ll check to see if the girls are okay with it,” y/n replies, turning her head to see her friends. they’re gone.

“they are. i asked them to shoo off before i approached you. is that a yes?”

y/n nods, “of course, freddie.”

“i love you.”

she laughs, “you really are april’s fool.”

“i’m your april’s fool.”

he buries his nose in the crook of her neck to stop her from seeing his blushing red face.

#fredweasley #fred weasley x y/n #frederick weasley #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor #hansel and gretel #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #angelina johnson #alicia spinnet #y/n #harrypotter #hogsmeade

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zaharadessert · 3 years ago

Text

A Dream of Home (10/12)

Summary: Life with the Gold Pack has never been smooth sailing for Emma Swan, and things are getting worse now the pack leader's son has decided he wants her for his mate. Nothing she says or does seems to deter him, or deter his parents from encouraging the match. Emma's only hope is a promise someone made her seventeen years ago; a promise she's forgotten about in all but the deepest recesses of her dreams.

Rating: Explicit (non-con, graphic violence, minor-ish character death but nothing really specific in this chapter)

Notes: Damn, we're so close to the end now, I can't believe it... Thank you so much for continuing to read and comment, like and reblog this story as it comes out. It's so heartwarming to know that people are enjoying the stuff I'm writing just as much as I am.

Thank you as always to Tori ( @resident-of-storybrooke ) for the amazing job you’ve done betaing this monster, and also to the beautiful Masha ( @mariakov81 ), for the utterly stunning art for this chapter, you totally made my weekend when you sent it to me and I love you! x

Taglist: @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @primary2blog @cssns @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist! :D

Read on AO3

- - - - -

By the time they were done, Emma was fairly certain there wasn’t a surface they hadn’t fucked either on, against or over. It wasn’t like she was an expert either, but she was pretty sure they covered just about every position she could imagine. She was sore and aching and though she knew it would fade soon she was afraid she’d miss it. They’d taken a bath together last night, the warmth of it easing their muscles and soothing the bruises their tight grips and sucking lips had branded into each other’s skin.

Only one mark would remain, the one upon Emma’s shoulder, the visual sign that she was claimed to match the change in her scent that would signal to everyone she met that she belonged somewhere.

She couldn’t smell the difference herself, but she could feel it.

Right down to her soul, and in her bones.

She’d been able to feel where he was before, but it was more intense now, more accurate. Her senses were more attuned to him in a way she hadn’t been able to imagine. She’d always been able to smell the basics on anyone, but it had been body language and tells she’d always relied on over her nose.

Now though, with him…

It was like someone had dialled everything up to full volume and then some.

And it was intoxicating; for them both. There were moments when he seemed unable to keep his hands off her. Even now with her heat and his rut well and truly fucked out of them, she wanted to be close, needed to be close to him. She wondered if they’d had more time, if her mother had been able to prepare her for this…

If anyone had prepared her for how this would feel.

She felt a familiar pang at the unfairness of her life before her family had come for her. This should have been something she’d been told about; she shouldn’t have been this clueless.

“Emma?” Killian said carefully.

“I’m fine… It’s just… a little overwhelming,” she admitted.

“Aye, but…”

“Good,” she said quickly, taking the hand he’d placed on the table between them and smiling. God that felt good, his hand wrapped around hers. So simple, but it said so much.

“It’s surprised me a little too, I mean… it’s one thing to be told what to expect and another to experience it?” he suggested gently.

Emma hummed, without any conviction behind it.

“Emma, did they not…?” she shook her head, blinking rapidly and fighting the feeling of inadequacy that was threatening to overwhelm her. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise.” He moved quickly, pulling her into his arms and smoothing her hair with one hand as he nuzzled into her neck. “Never be scared of asking me anything,” he murmured against her skin. “Anything, Swan,” he insisted.

“I’m not, I’m just… trying to work things out, or at least explain what’s going on in my head right now,” she soothed, her nose grazing against his skin. That had changed too, he smelled different. Not obviously different, she didn’t think, just… better.

“I can help.”

“You already are,” Emma told him, smiling as she turned her head to press her lips to his jaw.

“I think it’s time we got out of this cabin and got some fresh air, don’t you?”

“How about a swim?” Emma suggested with a soft smile as she pulled back to look up at him.

Killian grinned and kissed her on the forehead.

- - - - -

Needless to say, their two weeks as an actual couple had been intense. Both of them were glad for the few days of peace and quiet after things had calmed down to just… get to know each other. And yes, the threat of Neal finding her, and still not having heard word from their families loomed like a shadow over their heads, but they’d managed to find their own little bubble of happiness within that.

But they were both tense, and Emma could feel it, even as they basked on the warmth of the rock ledge at the edge of the lake, she could feel it in his fingers lazily tracing patterns on the inside of her arm.

“Should… should we just… go back?” she suggested carefully.

“We don’t know what they have planned in our absence, I don’t want to risk ruining that. I don’t want to risk you… please don’t ask that of me, Emma.” His fingers had slipped down to entwine with hers and she rolled into him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer and turning his head to press a kiss into her hair.

“Don’t get me wrong… being out here with you it’s… wonderful. But it is a bit…”

“Boring?” he asked with an easy smile down at her, letting her know he wasn’t upset by the comment. “Aye, there is only so much of one person’s conversation you can take before you need some kind of other input.”

“We are almost out of food… And I have run out of stories of my childhood, and stories of Graham to regale you with…” she pressed gently.

“We’ll be alright until the full moon, and I have a few stories of Graham you’re too young to remember, and I’ve been saving a couple of my favourites that involve you too…” he said with a smile as he pulled her up so that she was lying on top of him.

“Doesn’t that make this feel weird? I don’t remember… well anything other than that night so… I know you, and I know I’ve always known you, but it’s a feeling more than it is a memory.”

Killian shrugged, considering for a moment.

“I think it just makes it feel… more right? Like you said I have known you, I grieved for you and all the moments we could have had most of my life. I think, if we had actually grown up together, I might find this more weird, I guess. You’d always have been more like a kid sister to me until I realised you weren’t. I think your Dad would struggle with it more that way too… Don’t get me wrong, losing you and Graham was pretty up there on the list of worst things that have ever happened to us… But…”

“I love you,” she said suddenly, with such fierce conviction in her voice it felt almost like a punch to the chest.

He blinked, and she blushed suddenly, and only then did he realise the immediate reaction her words had stirred in his body. It was true that he’d spent most of the last two weeks at some degree of horny, and therefore he wasn’t sure his cock had been completely soft in that time.

There was something to be said for the quickened healing and stamina of Werewolves.

But hearing those words from her lips, declared with no rooms for doubt, his reaction was immediate.

“I love you too,” he replied, grinning up at her and pulling her in for a long, hard, kiss that left both of them gasping. There was a moment of complete bliss as they looked into each other’s eyes but then…

They both stilled as one, as a cool breeze wafted in from the direction of the cabin. Killian couldn’t be sure if she was reacting to him, or if she’d smelled what he had. They’d both grown so used to the smells and sounds of the surrounding area, the animals and the trees and Killian could tell by the one waft of air that something wasn’t right.

Emma was frowning down at him, confused at his sudden stillness and tension.

“Get dressed.”

“Killian…?!

“Emma,” he didn’t snap, outside of the tonal shift his voice was carefully controlled to convey urgency, not anger. But that one word was enough to snap her out of the lingering haze of lust with which they’d both been overcome and alert her to the danger he had smelled. Was still smelling, stronger now as the light breeze continued to blow in.

She was up and crouching next to him before he could say another word, her body alert and her mind racing, he could practically hear it.

“Get dressed,” he said again, hand cupping her cheek and taking her hand as he levered himself up to kneel in front of her.

She could definitely smell Neal, and his scent brought back the memories she’d been fighting to move past for weeks now in full force. Her hand tightened around Killian’s, and she had to fight the urge to turn tail and just run.

She looked up at him, the strange duality of her emotions clear as day in her eyes. The fear of what was about to happen battling with her complete trust in him. She took a deep breath in, both smelling and tasting the breeze for clues.

“It’s him, I think he’s got someone else with him,” she said quickly, knowing that she would recognise the scents better than he would.

“Get dressed, quick, I don’t know how much time we’ve got,” He couldn’t be sure, Neal could have deliberately strayed upwind for some reason, or he could have been approaching the cabin from downwind only to find that they weren’t there.

They moved quickly to their clothes, pulling them on over the damp material they were already wearing. It was uncomfortable but being clothed was more important right now. Emma could feel her heart pounding in her ears, and she was struggling to stop her hands from shaking as she buttoned her jean shorts.

“Hey, we’ll get through this, together,” Killian said, taking her hand and holding it firmly in his own.

He was obviously sensing her fear or smelling the sweat sheening on her forehead at the churning in her stomach and the acrid tasting spit building in her mouth as whatever was left in her stomach from their lunch threatened to expel itself all over the grass in front of her. Emma wasn’t sure which was worse. Killian rubbed his thumb up and down hers, ready to hold her close or hold her hair out of the way depending on which way this moment went. Emma managed a steadying breath and pulled her hand from Killian’s to finish buttoning her shorts.

“Oh, don’t get dressed on my account.”

Emma’s blood ran cold, and she felt Killian tense beside her. The urge to vomit became more pronounced, but Killian needed her to keep her head. She needed to turn around and face this. They’d bested Neal before, and they hadn’t been mates then, they hadn’t forged this bond between them then.

They were stronger now.

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. He was alone for now, but she could have sworn there had been someone else with him. She wished she’d been able to spend more time working on things like that, honing her senses. But she supposed Gold had always wanted to keep her under heel in a way he hadn’t with everyone else. How had she gotten this far so wholly unprepared for the world? She finished buttoning her shorts and shifted closer to Killian, reaching for his hand.

His fingers twined with hers without hesitation, her next breath came a little easier.

“Happy to see me, sweetheart? I know you must have missed me, we have so much to do when we get home,” Neal drawled, making his way around to stand in front of Emma.

“If my locking myself away for heats hadn’t been a hint, I thought stabbing you in the leg might have been, or even the fact that I left,” Emma growled her anger taking over for a moment before she could reign it in. “Besides, I’m back where I belong, and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise now,” she smiled a little then, squeezing Killian’s hand.

Behind her, Killian could feel the growl already rumbling low in his chest, barely concealed as his fury at the leech stood in front of them rolled off him in waves he knew Emma was picking up on. Probably half the reason for her squeezing his hand.

He watched as Neal sniffed the air between them, saw his expression change.

“You mated with that runt?” he snarled.

“You’re calling him a runt when you’ve barely mastered your Alpha tone? Don’t make me laugh Neal, you’ll never be half the Alpha Killian is,” she declared.

“Control your bitch, Jones, she’s speaking out of turn,” Neal spat, obviously furious.

Killian let the growl in his chest roll up his throat and spill out of his lips as he took a step forward, placing himself between Emma and Neal. His knees were slightly bent, his shoulders rolled forwards and he could feel his nails sharpening into the humanoid claws werewolves could grow under extreme circumstances.

“Watch your tongue, whelp,” Killian spat.

Neal sank into a defensive stance and returned Killian’s growl.

“Luckily all I have to do to make sure she doesn’t speak out of turn again is kill you, and then claim and tame her…” He said with a dark laugh.

“Not going to happen!”

Emma shouted it defiantly at the exact same moment he growled it with the fiercest conviction he had ever said anything in his life. He smirked, and Emma let out a breath of nervous laughter at his shoulder.

“You see Neal, that’s something you and your father never understood. You don’t tame or break an Omega like Emma, because that only makes you weaker. An Omega like Emma needs to be set free, to be allowed to grow and learn who they really are both with and without you by their side. That will make you stronger. Together.”

Emma couldn’t place his tone, there was a hint of pride, maybe a little smugness at having won Emma’s trust and claimed her when Neal had failed to do so. But there was an overriding sense of certainty about him, and she didn’t have to look at him to know that he believed every word he’d said. She felt an overwhelming rush of affection and gratitude towards him. The man that she loved, her Alpha. She let her thumb drag over his skin for a moment, not wanting to distract him but wanting him to know she’d appreciated what he’d said.

Neal laughed incredulously.

“What is this stupid pacifist bullshit?”

“I’m hardly a pacifist,” Killian replied with a dark laugh of his own which honestly sounded more like a growl.

Having fought him before, Killian knew a little bit about Neal’s style, and he was fairly certain a month of trying to consolidate his place in his father’s shoes would have left him little time to improve. He shifted his weight down into his knees and pressed forwards, his hand slipping out of Emma’s as he rushed at Neal. He went low, knowing that Neal’s balance was far from his best attribute. But at the last moment he rolled to the side and slashed at the back of Neal’s legs.

But he sidestepped, and wasn’t hobbled in the manner Killian had hoped, but he was on his feet again and Neal had stepped to Emma’s advantage.

Emma had never really been much of a fighter, but as she’d stood behind Killian, her mate, listening as he defended her, stood up for her in a way no one had ever done for her before - at least, not since she’d been taken – she felt something building inside her. It was a fury, and a desire to fight and defend unlike anything she’d ever felt.

She leapt at Neal, claws extended, and tearing into his shoulder as she pulled him round, throwing him off balance. Neal cried out in pain as Emma’s claws ripped into his skin, and he snarled at her, his eyes blazing with fury. She snarled back as his clawed hands swiped at her face. She ducked, and he swiped again with his now injured arm. This one she parried easily and was stunned by how instinctually she was acting and how well it seemed to be serving her. She swung at him in return and slashed deep marks across his chest.

She wasn’t so lucky on his third quick swing, misjudging his reach and allowing the blow to land on the side of her face, claws tearing into her skin and drawing a scream from her mouth. Neal was wrenched back from her by Killian, who had let out a roar of fury as he punched him in the side of the head. He kicked Neal in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards, off balance but not down.

Killian was on the offensive again, his and Neal’s claws tearing at each other’s clothes, the cuts and lacerations across their bodies increasing. Emma darted round to the side, landing a blow on Neal’s ribs despite the distracting throbbing as blood leaked down her cheek. Distracting him saw Killian’s next couple of blows landing as he tried to kick out at her instead.

Killian kicked him hard in the chest, and Emma was sure she heard a rib crack. He was gasping for breath, but Killian didn’t stop. He punched him in the face and Neal hit the ground. Killian stamped on his thigh, hard, snapping the bone.

Neal howled in pain; the way Emma had when Neal had broken hers.

Served him right.

Before she could register what was happening, Killian was on top of Neal, punching him in the face repeatedly. She could hear Neal’s heartbeat faltering.

Suddenly, with him so pathetically whimpering on the floor the bloodlust faded.

“Killian,” she said, her voice cautious but firm. “Killian, stop, he’s not worth it,” She pressed, and his head snapped round to look at her. He was panting hard, his eyes wild with fury, but he turned slower to look back down at Neal, cowering on the rocky ground beneath him. Nobody moved for a long moment until the tension faded from Killian’s shoulders.

“Aye,” he said, breathing heavily. “You’re lucky she’s a better person than either of us,” he told him as he pushed himself up, pausing to slap him hard enough round the face to render him unconscious.

“Are you alright, Love?” he asked, his fingers gentle on her sliced cheek. They were both breathing heavily, and Emma could not deny the current running in her blood about how his quite literally leaping to her defence was such a turn on. If they didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to, Emma would have jumped his bones right then.

“I’ll be fine.” He hadn’t sliced through her cheek at least, so there was a chance it would be healed without the hint of a scar within a few hours.

“Come here,” Killian said gently, pulling his shirt off as he headed over to the water, dipping the edge of the shirt in, bringing it up to her cheek to wash off the blood so he could see it better. “It’s shallow, should heal fine,” he muttered. His hands caressing over her skin, ghosting over her hair, her shoulders, her back. She realised he was checking her over for other injuries.

“Killian, I’m fine,” she said gently, her own hand moving to his cheek and pulling him down for a kiss.

He groaned against her lips, kissing her hard fingers tangled in her hair, one arm looped around her waist, pulling her in tight. It was one of those life affirming, toe curling, never want it to stop kisses. But changing the angle of their heads had his nose nudging her cut cheek and she hissed.

He pulled back immediately.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” she soothed, feeling the guilt and worry in his gaze.

“We should get back, use the radio, and hope he didn’t bring anyone else with him,” Killian said with a sigh. Emma slipped out of his arms and pulled her shoes on, grabbing the bag they’d brought and leaving Killian to grab Neal’s unconscious form and heft it over his shoulder.

They took the most direct route back, and as they got closer, they noticed other scents on the breeze. There were more wolves at the cabin, and Killian recognised all the scents but one.

“Looks like we won’t need to use the radio after all,” he said with a smile as they entered the clearing, hand in hand. Mulan and Robin were securing the unfamiliar figure in the bed of Robin’s truck as they approached, and just walking out of the cabin was…

“Mom?” Emma breathed, and she crossed to the cabin door quickly, wrapping her arms around her mother and finding her cheek stinging with relieved tears at seeing her again.

“Emma, sweetheart, are you alright?” she asked, holding her daughter tight.

Killian dropped Neal’s unconscious form on the dusty ground behind them and Snow pulled back with a sudden gasp. She looked between Emma and Killian with wide eyes for a moment before her expression broke into a smile.

Emma’s gaze dropped to the floor and Killian’s ears turned pink.

“We’re fine, Mom,” she mumbled, and Killian moved closer.

“Yes, yes you are,” she said with a grin.

“Snow, I…” Killian started, sounding like he wanted to explain, but the Brunette shook her head.

“We don’t have time, Killian, we came as soon as we realised Neal and whoever that is…” she gestured at the unconscious and bound body already lying in the bed of the second truck.

“Thomas,” Emma supplied, with the merest glance, but there was something else on Snow’s mind, she could tell.

“Killian, you have to get back, it’s over but Liam is hurt. When we left, we didn’t know if he would pull through or not.”

The blood had drained from Killian’s face before she’d finished speaking. He was reaching for the wall of the hut to hold himself up. Emma was already turning towards him, but she was the only one who could see it. Mulan and Robin were still on the other side of the truck and Snow was already looking at Killian, who was looking at Snow…

Without warning, Neal’s supposedly unconscious form surged up out of nowhere and lunged at Killian’s back.

“No!” Emma screamed, moving without thinking, barrelling into Neal and shoving him into the cabin wall. His breath left his body in a winded rush of air, and she hadn’t even let go of him before she was pulling him back off the wall and throwing him into the ground, leaping on top of him. There was a sickening crunch as Neal’s head hit a stone, but Emma didn’t hear it. All she knew was that Neal had been going for Killian, had been trying to take something else from her and she wanted to hurt him as much as he and his father had hurt her over the years.

She grabbed hold of his hair and started slamming his head into the ground, the crunching grind of his skull against the rock he’d fallen onto spurring on the sudden bloodlust and it wasn’t until her hands were covered in blood, until the repeated crunching of his skull on the rock had turned into a squelch, that she registered the large pool of it across the ground. Emma’s body stilled as she realised what she’d done.

For a long moment everybody was still and silent and all Emma could do was stare down at Neal’s body as blood seeped into the dirt underneath his head.

She hadn’t meant to kill him, but he’d clearly intended to hurt or even kill Killian while he was down, distracted and she couldn’t let Neal hurt him. She’d reacted and now…

Neal’s heart had beat it’s last, gravity doing all the work as blood ran out of his mangled head.

“Emma,” Killian’s voice broke through her stunned focus on Neal. He didn’t come closer, but he was reaching out for her, and she reached back. “It’s alright love, it was an accident.”

She didn’t know how he was doing it, how he was pushing aside his fears for his brother for her, but he was. She pushed herself off the ground, stumbling backwards into Killian and turned, burying her face in his chest and started to sob.

It was overwhelming. The guilt at having taken another life. The relief that no matter what happened now, he was not going to be able to come between them. The knowledge that she was free of Gold and Neal and that no one who was left was ever going to be so concerned with her alone that they’d try to do what Neal had done.

“We need to go, Liam, you need to be there,” she said, pulling her forehead off his chest and looking up at him.

Killian swallowed.

“Aye, I’ll get my keys.”

“You’re not driving like this, Killian, please don’t be reckless,” Emma said gently, her fingers longing to trace through the hair at the nape of his neck, but they were covered in blood.

“Okay,” he murmured, his eyes closing, taking a deep and calming breath, resting his forehead against hers.

“Mom, can you find him a clean shirt, top right-hand drawer of the dresser,” she said, without looking away from her mate. He needed her here with him, not running around and fussing, just like she needed him here, keeping her from looking back at Neal’s lifeless body.

“I’ll be right back, Mulan, Robin can you… find his keys and get the truck ready?” Snow said, as she walked away.

There was movement around them as Mulan and Robin followed Snow’s directions. But Emma focused on Killian, on what he needed from her as he faced the possibility of losing the only family member he had left.

Needing to look after her so that he didn’t go crazy worrying about Liam and also to try and lessen the smell of blood in the air that was driving him a little crazy, Killian carefully guided her over to the outside tap, turning it on and helping her wash the blood from her hands. When they were done, he gathered her close again, still keeping her looking at him and not at the body.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, resting his forehead against hers as he looked down at her.

“Me? What about you? Killian…” she said, her arms slipping up to his shoulders and her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered closed for just a moment. She knew he loved it when she did that, but right now she was taking just as much comfort from the tender caress as he was.

“I can’t do anything for Liam, even if we get there before it swings either way. Emma, you stopped me when I… I know you didn’t want that,” he said gently.

“He was going to kill you, no one else was close enough to… I don’t even know if they saw but I…” she swallowed, looking up at him in earnest. “I couldn’t let him hurt you,” she whispered, her fingers still carding through his hair, taking as much comfort from the action as he did.

“I know, love, it’s alright. You were protecting your pack, your Alpha, killing him was an accident, and more than justifiable.”

“But I didn’t stop…” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

“You lost it, but he was part of the reason you’ve been so suppressed that sometimes you don’t stand a chance at holding back. And that’s okay, you will learn, and I will help you,” he promised, his voice low but clear as the sounds of the others moving around drifted over to them. His tone was firm and the look in his eyes was certain and steady when he spoke again. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty I could barf?” she asked, her gaze dropping and tears pooling in her eyes.

“Because, my love,” Killian said, hooking his finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him, and Emma felt something stir at the addition of ‘my’ to the usual endearment he used. For the first time, there was no doubt or question for either of them. “You are a good person, far too good for a reckless idiot like me, or a manipulative lowlife like him.”

“But I love my reckless idiot. My Alpha. My Mate,” she told him, using his addition for her own end. He smiled, but she could still feel the tension in his shoulders, his other worries unable to be completely pushed aside. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.” His voice was sure, and certain, and Emma let herself bask in those two words that meant so much. They knew nothing could come between them, that no matter what they faced as an aftermath of the events of this day they would face it together.

They belonged together, and they both knew it.

“Killian, I have a shirt for you, and I’ll be driving you home, Mulan and Robin will sort out everything here, bring back any clothes and stuff, but we should go,” Snow said gently from a few feet away, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to convey the urgency of the situation.

“Right, let’s go,” he pulled away to take the shirt, but didn’t bother putting it on yet. “There’s a first aid kit in the truck, we can clean up a little on the way,” he said, tilting his head to look at the cuts on Emma’s cheek again.

“Yes, we will,” Emma agreed, her fingers tracing a long deep cut along his ribs. He sucked in a breath, and she could tell that the reaction hadn’t been all pain. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced up at his face.

“Killian, I get it, but that is still my daughter,” Snow called back breezily over her shoulder as she rounded his truck and opened the door.

“My apologies, Milady,” Killian replied with a bow and a cheeky wink.

Emma knew the levity was to hold back the panic and the helplessness, but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. She took his hand and followed him to the truck, making a point to not look back at the body Robin had covered with a blanket. This was going to be a long enough drive without any more unpleasant images in her head.

#cs ff #cssns 2021 #Captain Swan #A Dream of Home #ZaharaDessert Writes #art by mariakov81 #werewolf au #abo au

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing.

Word count: 5.2k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up.

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was.

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice.

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.”

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?”

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch.

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.”

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside.

��Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.”

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best.

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver.

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride.

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.”

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...”

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more.

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more.

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music.

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?”

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.”

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously.

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.”

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution.

“We’ve had a few meetings.”

“Hm.”

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear.

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back.

“Yes. You can call me J.”

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well.

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road.

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too.

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned.

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.”

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.”

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people.

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away.

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

“How do you mean?”

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better.

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...”

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--”

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?”

“Obviously they don’t care.”

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.”

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”

“Fox?”

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.”

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up.

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...”

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince.

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...”

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.”

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?”

“Very observant, your Highness. F?”

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.”

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed.

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.”

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked.

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?”

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.”

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.”

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head.

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.”

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?”

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.”

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you.

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said.

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock.

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?”

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared.

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed.

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.”

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks.

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them.

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.”

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.”

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say.

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?”

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale.

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.”

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??”

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.”

“What?!”

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.”

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!”

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper.

“It was for your saf--”

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--”

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence.

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood.

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck.

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work.

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal.

“What is it Bee?”

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things.

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments.

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.”

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful.

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.”

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed.

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.”

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?”

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.”

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved.

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...”

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person.

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?”

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.”

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.”

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier.

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.”

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.”

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.”

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice.

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--”

“--That you were in love with me?”

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--”

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought.

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.”

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.”

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone.

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.”

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.”

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.”

“I-I don’t.”

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses.

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched.

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.”

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt.

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours.

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?”

“Ch--”

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat.

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut.

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face.

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause.

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight your Highness.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them.

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.”

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side.

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people.

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel.

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action.

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging.

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.”

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.”

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...”

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.”

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?”

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--”

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.”

Both of the men chimed, “You do?”

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.”

“You think?”

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.”

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother.

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.”

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.”

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it.

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.”

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?”

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.”

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--”

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.”

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled.

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?”

The buzzing grew nearer.

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?”

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact.

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--”

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked.

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture.

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying.

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes.

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms.

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.”

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you.

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face.

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you.

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red.

“The car?”

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.”

“We’ll need it.”

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team.

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage.

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood.

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face.

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.”

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming.

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

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jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 4 years ago

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It Was You (Part Three)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Surprise! I know it’s late (at least by my standards), but ta-da! Part Three a day early!

Read Part One here, and part two here.

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’, and this one specifically fills ‘Christmas Pajamas’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 2790

Series Warnings: angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

You pushed the image of his wink from your mind as you finished up breakfast while Jensen called Stacy and set up a meeting for the three of you. She sounded particularly excited that he had taken her advice, and more so that you were on board. You spent the rest of the morning goofing off with each other as you normally would, singing along to the radio while you cleaned up from your meal and resting a bit before your meeting. When you decided to hop in the shower, Jensen retreated to his own apartment to freshen up.

You dressed for the cold weather once again, opting for a pair of dark wash jeans and boots with thick socks underneath. You layered yourself with a sweater and your peacoat, opting for a scarf and gloves to shield yourself from the cold, but left your hair down to cover your ears as best it could.

Jensen returned to your apartment about an hour after he’d left before escorting you to his SUV in the garage to shlep you across town to Stacy’s office, where she met you with a warm smile. You’d met her plenty of times before, as Jensen considered her a friend after working with her for so many years.

“Y/n, it’s so great to see you again. You look beautiful.” She gushed, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. “And may I just say, you’re making my job a lot easier today.” She added with a breathy laugh.

She welcomed you and Jensen to take a seat opposite from her at her desk before diving right into the semantics. It was pretty simple – you and Jensen were to start posting even more on social media, even suggesting that you share some old pictures of the two of you from your childhood to reinforce your story. She was okay with Jensen’s suggestion of not announcing a relationship explicitly and said the gossip would be enough to keep up the facade of the two of you being together. Her next idea, though, made you shift a bit in your chair.

“I would love it if we could get some paparazzi shots of the two of you with some PDA at some point. Nothing explicit, of course. Maybe just some hand holding or something, you know, to get the fires going.” She proposed flippantly as she shuffled some papers on her desk.

After you shared a look with Jensen, he shrugged and simply replied, “We’ll see what we can do.”

“Alright, then. Jensen, I’m going to ask you this as this is your decision, but do you feel we need to sign a non-disclosure agreement with Y/n? Normally, I would insist, but seeing as you two are such good friends, I’m not going to.”

Jensen waved his hands, “Not necessary. I trust Y/n with my life, so there’s really no need. She’d never do anything that would warrant one.”

You reassured her as well, “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt his career, no matter what. We trust each other to handle this appropriately.”

Stacy seemed satisfied as she nodded and stood to straighten her black blazer, “Well, I think that covers my end of everything. I do think this’ll help. Granted, Jensen is an agent’s dream when it comes to image, really. He’s scandal-free and always has been, but the bachelor title can be weary in the eyes of a casting director at times, particularly for the role of a young father. I’ll keep pushing forward with communications with the producer and I’ll call you when I hear something.”

She reached over her desk as you and Jensen stood from your chairs and shook both of your hands before showing you out and wishing you a good day. As you left her office, Jensen placed his hand on the small of your back. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before numerous times, but when he left it there as you walked down the sidewalk to the parking area, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was just for show now.

....................

The next week was spent in relative normality. You and Jensen spent time together, as you always did, but now being sure to post more frequently to social media. Jared popped over early in the week before his flight back home to Texas so you could fill him in, since if anyone needed to be “in” on the charade, it was him. He’d be the first one calling Jensen if he’d heard any rumors, so he was thankful to be included and happy that it was you and not someone else. Jared understood, for the most part, and empathized with how difficult management could be at times.

“You guys can definitely sell that chemistry you’ve always had, so I think it will work.” Jared shrugged, but you didn’t miss the implication of your shared chemistry with Jensen, causing you to take a long sip of your water as he continued. “I’m not sure how they would’ve suckered some rando into faking it with this guy.” He teased, making Jensen huff in amusement and shove him lightly.

Giggling from your seat in Jensen’s apartment, you delighted in witnessing their brotherly bickering.

Jared stood from the chair at Jensen’s island to bid his farewells, “Well, y’all let me know if I can help in any way. My flight leaves at 5, so I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you guys next week.”

Yours and Jensen’s flight back together to Austin wasn’t until a few days before Christmas and Jared wanted to get home a bit earlier. The two of you would see Jared at his Christmas party before making your way to Dallas, where your families still lived. Jared and Jensen shared a quick hug before Jared scooped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly into his chest, “Now you let me know if I need to kick his ass for anything, you hear me?” he whispered in your ear.

Another laugh escaped you as you poked his side before he gave you a quick peck on the cheek and made for the door, waving as he exited.

“Alrighty.” Jensen exclaimed, clasping his hands together after he saw Jared off, “I’ve got some plans for us tonight.”

You settled in front of him, gazing up at him with a questioning squint, “Do you now? Do I get to be privy to that information?”

“You sure do. C’mon, let’s go.”

He whisked you out of the door quickly after helping you into your coat. You walked with your arm linked in his, the gesture completely natural at this point in your lives, down the bustling streets of downtown Vancouver as you window shopped and grabbed some coffee at the café before he pulled you to your next stop, the artisanal bakery that made your favorite treats. He grabbed all the necessary ingredients to make hot chocolate and pushed you from counter to counter instructing you to grab whatever your heart desired.

“Tonight, we are cooking an amazing dinner of spaghetti – and yes, before you even ask, I’m making my grandmother’s sauce – and then, we’re getting in our most festive pj’s and having another Christmas movie marathon as we shove our faces full of cookies. Sound like a deal?”

You nudged him with your hip as the basket swung from your arm, “Ackles, you’re a man after my own heart, aren’t you?”

Grabbing a bag of chocolate covered truffles from behind you, he threw them into your basket with a grin, “I’m just trying to woo you, Y/n. Should I be so lucky.”

If only he knew.

After spending way too much on chocolate, decadent candies and other treats, you went back to your apartment to grab your Christmas pajamas that were given to you as a gift last year from Jensen’s parents. They had made the whole family dress up in matching sets for their annual Christmas eve dinner with both of your families, and it made for the most relaxed evening as you all gathered around their outdoor fire-pit for dinner instead of the formal table setting you’d experienced in so many years past as it was a tradition for both sides, with Jensen’s and your parents alternating hosting each year. The pajamas were red and had snowflakes all over them and you decided to grab your polar bear bootie slippers from your closet to bring also. You changed quickly and pulled an oversized shawl around your shoulders before creeping back down the hallway, praying that one of your neighbors didn’t peak out to see a grown woman rushing down the hall in snowflake jammies.

Letting yourself back into Jensen’s apartment, you heard a loud chuckled as soon as you shut the door. He had emerged from the short hallway that led to his bedroom wearing his pair of the same print, but he was barefoot.

“Great minds, huh?” he quipped with a wide smile, still laughing as he ventured into the kitchen.

The two of you made dinner together and ate at his island, talking about all of your family’s traditions for this time of year and gushing about how much you were looking forward to being home for the holiday. You’d head straight to Jared and Gen’s home in Austin from the airport and spend the night there so that you could attend their holiday party and drive to Dallas the next day. You were so excited to see your family, and Jensen’s. They were sort of a package deal, becoming one large family over the years. You adored his parents, and always had. His home was your escape and yours was his, and each set of parents treated the two of you as one of their own. You’d spent many nights having dinner with the Ackles’ and he had a standing invitation at your table, courtesy of both of your parents and your sister. She was fiercely protective of both of you, taking to Jensen as if he was her little brother since he was born. In fact, the shared family tradition of Christmas Eve dinner began because she was afraid that you would miss Jensen too much if you went a few days without seeing him. She threw an enormous fit one evening when you started to cry, and she had it in her mind that it was because you weren’t with your best friend. You were only three, and at the time your sister was six years old, and so the tradition came to last. You would gather together, eat, and open gifts with everyone piled into a small space to exchange. This year, they had elected to do a secret Santa and you were lucky enough to draw Jensen’s mom.

You each finished up your meals and cleaned up the kitchen before plopping down on his large, u-shaped sectional that faced his entertainment center that house a huge TV and showcased his DVDs, record player and collection of albums and 45’s. You were fortunate to live in the same apartment complex as he did, though Jensen’s paychecks were obviously a bit larger than yours. He had refused to allow you to be in a separate building from him when you moved from Texas to Vancouver, so he found one that was secure enough for someone with a bit of fame but wasn’t too overpriced that you couldn’t afford it on your salary. He even offered to pay a portion of your rent to ensure he wouldn’t be too far away, but thankfully this building had worked out for both of you. It had a doorman and was as secure as it could be, so you took the one-bedroom apartment on the same floor as Jensen’s two bedroom. His was larger, but you had a better view in your opinion.

He had set up all of your bounty from the bakery on the coffee table and made a bowl of popcorn, your steaming mugs of hot chocolate nestled between all of the goods.

“C’mere.” He gestured, encouraging you to curl into his side.

He pulled his cell from underneath his leg and snapped a few photos of the two of you smiling for the camera. Then, he grabbed a handful of popcorn and held it to his mouth, taking another picture with it spilling from every corner and cascading toward his lap as you laughed at his funny expression. His eyes were wide as he made a ridiculous face, but it was always one of your favorite sides of him. He had many, to be sure, but that man could make your sides hurt with laughter at any point in time when he was simply carefree and looking to be a jokester. It was one of the many things you loved about him – his ability to make you laugh like no one else could, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. You settled back into your spot underneath his arm, taking the bowl from his hands as he tossed his phone on the cushion next to him and picked up a few stray pieces of popcorn, tossing one at you. You threw it back, but he caught it and pitched it into his mouth with a victorious grin. You rolled your eyes playfully before munching on some yourself. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressed his lips to your hairline and kissing you on the side of your head.

“You should’ve taken that picture… that would’ve gone over well.” You half joked.

He raised an eyebrow in your direction with an inquisitive glint, “You think? Should we do it?”

Shrugging, you nodded indifferently. Again, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that you were doing, but it would make people talk, so he grabbed his phone once more and repeated the kiss. This time, you smiled but didn’t look directly at the camera, letting your eyes flutter closed until he pulled his mouth away. When you looked up at him through your lashes, you heard another click.

Showing you his screen, he thumbed through the few he’d taken, the last two made you suck in a sharp breath. He left his eyes and mouth slightly open and had a huge smile as his lips attached to the crown of your head, the crinkles around his eyes accentuated slightly and he was looking off into the distance. The last one he took made your heart swell. It looked like two people in love, staring into each other’s eyes. You were both smiling but giving each other such looks of adoration that even you would buy it, and you were in on the rouse.

It was easy to be with him. Your relationship was not give and take, but mutual exchange and the type of comfort you can only have after knowing someone for so many years. He knew you in a way no one else ever would, and you had been through every up and down together. When he’d left for L.A. to pursue acting, it hurt all that much more because it felt like that would all be lost. You were grateful that even after those few years, everything fell back into place as soon as you were near each other again. Success and fame hadn’t changed him, at least the him that you got to know. He was still the same man you’d always known and had matured with, the boyish charm he’d always had and the distinguished charisma that he’d grown into combining into who he was today.

He elected to post the first few photos, captioning them #matchingjammies and #nopopcornforyou @y/i/h, looking for your approval and causing you to chuckle against him before he put his phone down once again. “We’ll save the others.” he mentioned casually.

It wasn’t long before you’d picked your way through as many treats as you could, both satisfied that your sweet tooth had been satiated. About halfway through your second movie, you were resting your eyes once again coiled against him, comforted that everything smelled like Jensen.

It wasn’t until the credits rolled of The Grinch that he noticed you were sleeping. Your head was nestled against his chest, with your knees pulled to you tightly and the blanket tucked beneath your chin.

This time, Jensen scooped you up and carried you to his bedroom, holding you close to his chest and ignoring his spare bed down the hall. He pulled back the covers and tucked you beneath them before removing his button up pajama shirt and climbing in himself, leaving him in his pajama pants and a fitted white t-shirt.

He could have woken you up but, frankly, he didn’t want to. Something told him that he couldn’t bear to have you go home to your apartment, not just yet. He wanted another night of sleeping next to you, of holding you close and feeling you beside him. The thought caused him to wonder, even in his sleepy mind, if he could continue to pretend any longer.

To be continued...

…………………………………………………………………………………………

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It was you

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mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

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A series of Firsts - Don Giorno x Fem! Reader

A cute Valentines day scenario with husband Giogio, nsfw-ish toward the end, just something that's been on my mind for a little while. Cut for length🥺💭❤️

Word count: 2318

Everything that could have gone wrong had inevitably gone wrong. It was the first Valentines day that you and your beloved would be spending together as a married couple, so needless to say, you wanted to make it a tiny bit more noteworthy than the usual extravagant outings you’ve grown accustomed to. You knew that things like this weren’t really important, but blamed your sentimental self for wanting to commemorate each “first” event in your first year of wedded life. As luck would have it though, every single one of your plans would be foiled, however, in retrospect, your end goal would actually be achieved.

There was still a chill in the February air, but it was a beautiful sunny day nonetheless. Giorno had already left by the time your sleep had broken, but you had woken up to a beautiful red rose and a small heart shaped chocolate on his pillow with a simple note in his handwriting. You smiled when you read the note, three simple words, but it meant more to you than anything. You lazed about in bed for a while, thinking about all the things you wanted to do today. The villa was quiet, save for the few guards that Giorno would not compromise on, you had given most of his other staff the weekend off, wanting it to just be the two of you. Or so you’d thought…

The spanner foiling this plan, came in the form of some important conference call with an associate from the Speedwagon foundation. Well, calling him an “associate” might be a bit cold, seeing that it was Giorno’s relative, Jotaro Kujo, who wanted to speak to him himself. Giorno knew it must have been something very important for Jotaro to reach out to him of all people given the circumstances and how suspicious he was in the beginning. So off he went, you presumed to his study, to discuss whatever issue was plaguing Jotaro. Deciding it was time to get out of bed, you quickly showered and threw on something comfortable, knowing you were going to put on a knock out outfit later on. No sooner had you stepped out of the master bedroom did you hear a loud bang, and felt something whizzing past you, missing your face by a hair’s breath. Being immediately on guard, you summoned your stand ready to attack the enemy that had infiltrated your home when you heard the familiar whining of Mista’s sex pistols…

“Mistaaaaa, he’s not here, can we go eat now?”

“Well good morning to you too number 5,” you said to the miniscule stand, who started to hide himself in your hair to escape the harassment from number 3.

“Awww has Mista has been starving you guys again? How awful, lets go find you guys something to eat,” you teased, earning an annoyed look from the gunslinger, to which he retorted, “Excuse me, they’re well fed and have nothing to complain about!”

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you asked Mista what brought him to the villa this early in the morning. You were hoping against your better judgment that it wasn’t anything too serious, but by the time Mista was done relaying his report about the unrest in some of the outlying areas, you knew it had to be nipped in the bud before it gained momentum. Wanting to feed the tiny gremlins, but being unsure of what they would eat in the morning, you set up some cured meats, fruits, nuts and some warmed cornetto on a platter.

The delicious smell of warm, buttery pastry had whet your appetite as well, so you decided to warm up more pastries for you and Mista and started making cappuccinos for the both of you. By this point you and Mista had been around each other for long enough and had been through so much together, that the bond felt more familial than anything else.

Setting down the food in front of you and Mista, the facts of his report were still playing on your mind.

“So where is Giorno anyway? I thought he’d taken some time off, which is why I came straight here,” asked Mista as he bit off a piece of his strawberry preserve filled croissant.

“He’s in the middle of an important conference call, he might be a while… what do you think about what’s happening in in the new territories? Do you think we can handle the situation among ourselves?”

Perplexed by your question, Mista thought for a while before answering. “I suppose they aren’t the strongest stand users, between you, Fugo and myself, we should be able to take them out if the need arises… listen, I don’t like where you’re going with this,”

It was all the confirmation you needed as you spoke with determination, “Let’s go then, if we can end this before it has a chance to blow up then we should do it. Call Fugo, I’m sure he’ll be willing to go with us, I’ll text Gio to let him know.” It was the first time you’d taken a bold decision like that without so much as consulting with Giorno… and just like that, you had thrown the second spanner in the works without even knowing it, because what should have taken a couple of hours had ended up taking the better part of the day.

“I wonder…. where could she be… ” mused Giorno as he walked around the villa looking for you. The conference call had taken longer than expected so he sought you out to make it up to you, but you were nowhere to be found. Deciding to call you, he’d come across the text message you’d sent him just before you left. His eyes darkened as he tried to call you.

“Oh hi Gio, are you okay? We’re kinda in the middle of something here,” you answered, trying to sound unfazed despite the ruckus taking place behind you.

“Cara, how can you just rush off into a dangerous situation like this? I’m very upset with you, come back here immediately,”

You felt very guilty when he still addressed you with his usual kindness despite how angry he sounded.

“Gio, I’m so sorry, I’ll explain everything when we get back, it will be over soon I promise,” you say, trying to placate both his temper and your own feelings.

“You guys have an hour to come back, failing which, I’ll have to come there myself. Honestly, you’re lucky I love you as much as I do, amore…” with that Giorno ended the call and went back to his study, hoping that you guys would be okay.

Upon arriving at Giorno’s study, you found him to be the picture of serenity, quietly working at his desk with some soft music playing in the background. He was relieved to see that you three delinquents were okay, most of all, you- his wife, who unfortunately was the biggest troublemaker of the lot, however he didn’t let that relief show on his face…

Just as Mista was about to speak, Giorno raised his hand to silence him,

“Did everything work out as expected in your marvelous misadventure?”

“you could say so… the job is done”

“is anyone hurt?”

“no, everyone’s alright,”

“then go home, it’s been a long day,” sensing everyone’s surprise, Giorno explained himself further.

“I trust you all, I want to make that clear… but for God’s sake, at least 1 person needs to be the voice of reason, nonetheless, I’m glad everything worked out for the best, just think before wildly rushing out next time,”

Mista and Fugo left the office leaving you alone with Giorno. You waited to hear the little electronic beep that the door made when it locked before you gently lowered yourself into Giorno’s strong arms, settling down comfortably in his lap.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you tesoro… you have so much to do, I just wanted to share some of the burden with you,”

“I know bella, I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier, I was just worried, I’d like to keep you away from these things as much as possible,”

“I can hold my own, you know,”

“I know bella, but you shouldn’t have to,” replied Giorno, lazily weaving his fingers through your hair. He drew your head closer for a kiss, starting off gentle, growing ever more passionate until you both stopped yourselves.

“Come amore mio, there isn’t a lot of time left, you have to get ready for our date, remember?”

Reluctantly, you got off his lap and left him with a feather light kiss to his temple.

After a long while of titivating with your look, you made your way back to Giorno’s study, finding him dreamily admiring the final seconds of the winter sunset. The fading golden light made his hair shine like spun gold and drew out the various jeweled specks of his eyes. He turns towards you, and his expression changes entirely, as if time itself had stood still.

“What do you think?” you ask, doing a little twirl and ending off in a pose, you giggle at your gesture.

“Sei cosi bella, you’re absolutely breathtaking amore mio,” Giorno says as he extends his arm to you, “are you ready to go?”

You smile sweetly and link your arm through his, just as you’re about to leave, the electricity cuts out.

No matter, you both wait patiently, expecting the generator to kick in at any moment, but nothing happens. Giorno’s study is more akin to a bunker, an impenetrable fortress built with the intention of keeping you both safe if the need ever arose. Grabbing his cellphone, Giorno calls one of the guards and asks him to check out the problem, as you are effectively stuck until you can get electricity back into the mechanism of the door.

You tinkered around the draws and cupboards, and managed to find all the aromatherapy candles and burners you got your husband to help him relax, you would have been annoyed that they were buried away if you weren’t as relieved as you were. It was quickly getting dark, and without the twinkling lights of the skyline, the room was becoming evermore difficult to navigate. After lighting up a considerable amount of the candles, you had to admit that the atmosphere was quite romantic.

“Well, they’ve found the problem, but can’t say how long it will take to fix, I could always try to use GE to break us out,”

“Break us out and do what my love? It looks like whole city is out, we’re probably in the safest place there is, come on, relax, we’ll just wait it out,” you reply as you pull him over to the couch. “see, this is nice right?” you say as you take your usual spot in his arms.

“Of course cara, I’m sorry, you’ve been patient with me recently, I know I’ve been very busy, so I just wanted to spoil you a bit,” Giorno’s voice was so gentle as he spoke, his fingers tracing circles onto your arm.

You were relieved as you felt him relax under your embrace, “for what it’s worth, happy Valentines day tesoro, I know things didn’t go according to anyone’s plan, but I’m still happy right here,” you utter, burying your face into the crook of Giorno’s neck.

“Happy Valentine’s day Amore mio, at least we’ll never forget this, and besides we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

The temperature started to drop the later it got, so Giorno decided to make use of his fireplace to make sure you didn’t get too cold, your slinky little evening dress offered little protection from the cold, not that he was complaining, it just meant that you would snuggle up closer to him. A yearning stirred in him when he looked back at you, bundled up in his large coat on the couch, you just looked so beautiful, the candlelight danced about in your eyes and your smile was the purest he’d ever seen.

“Are you okay bella? The room should warm up in a few moments. Ah, I know what would speed up the process… I recently acquired a very impressive bottle of wine…” mused Giorno as he found the bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet.

“Gio, isn’t that an insanely expensive bottle?”

“I’d hope so, it’s the 1992 vintage, imagine, we were just kids when this was made” he quipped, genuinely excited to crack open the extravagant alcohol.

“I thought you’d save something like that for a huge milestone like the birth of our first child or something of that magnitude. I just know how pricey it is,”

“Ah the birth of our child… conception of our child, it’s all the same”

Perplexed you asked, “caro, what are you saying?”

“What I’m saying bella, is that we’re freezing, the night is young and all we have for entertainment is each other’s wonderful company, whatever happens from here on out is up to the gods of fate, salute,”

And with a clink of your glasses and a gaze into each other’s eyes, you both took a sip of the wine. There was something irresistible about the way Giorno’s eyes glinted in the soft lighting. With a confident smirk, he drew you in for a passionate kiss, giving his hands permission to explore your beautiful body, drawing out those pretty sounds and lustful expressions that only he had the privilege of observing. Giorno was an intuitive lover, and you completely surrendered yourself to him. You both spent the rest of the night reveling in each other’s beauty and affection.

With arms and legs intertwined lovingly, breathing even and peaceful, you both slept blissfully unaware of the plans the mischievous gods of fate had in store for you.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #jjba x reader #giorno giovanna #don giovanna #don giorno #giorno #jjba #vento aureo #golden wind #valentines day #jojo's bizarre adventure #giogio #my writing #jjba giorno #jjba fluff #jjba vento aureo #n/sfw

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supercorpkid · 4 years ago

Text

The adventures of Superboy and Superkid.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1980.

When Conner shows up at your school you already know what to expect. Trouble. Every time Superboy shows up in your life things get simply out of control. He is there, waiting for you, with his incredibly long shoulders, a body that no teenage boy can actually build, and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Oh my God, oh my God. Conner is here.” Jamie is smiling so much next to you that you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I can see that. He’s basically impossible to miss.” He waves at you, and you nod back walking towards him.

“Ok, listen, this time you have to help me.” You know what she’s talking about. She likes Conner. I mean, she and half of the girls in the school are basically making heart eyes at him right now.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Conner usually doesn’t show up to go on dates, he usually shows up asking for help because he did something stupid.” You answer, but you don’t think Jamie was listening to any of it.

“Cousin!” Conner says excitedly and you smile.

“Hey lab rat!” You come close enough and he pulls you in for a hug so tight is almost like he missed you. You smile again. You missed him too.

You’ve been calling each other lab rats for a while now. It’s insane to think that Conner is made from Superman’s DNA plus Lex Luthor’s. He’s somehow your cousin twice. And since you both were made in a lab, you two like to joke and call each other lab rats.

“Hey Jamie.” He says after he lets you go. They stare into each other’s eyes for a few good seconds. “Still looking pretty, I see.”

“Oh, hi Conner.” She smiles shyly. “Still looking handsome and all.”

He shrugs and smiles a little cocky. You roll your eyes at the whole interaction.

“So, what brings you to National City, lab rat?” You intervene before they start undressing themselves with their eyes.

“Oh, I just missed my cute little cousin.” He messes with your hair. You sigh.

“Cut the crap and tell me what happened.” He looks around telling you this is not the right place and you agree with your head. “Well, say goodbye now. We have to go.”

They hug, a really long hug. And Jamie is being weird and smelling his hair. They are so odd, and you have no idea why they just don’t kiss already.

“Bye, pretty.” Conner says and Jamie answers with instant heart eyes. You sigh again and pull him grabbing his t-shirt. He walks beside you and you two find an alley to make sure no one can see you both flying away to somewhere more private. You get to your training center; you take off your glasses to make sure no one’s around and he looks around too. He then comes back to you. “So, how have you been, lab rat?”

“I wanna say fine, but that would be a lie. Got shot with kryptonite the other day.”

“Really? That shit is painful right?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s horrible.” You are almost opening up more when you remember why you’re there. “So, what have you done now?”

“I might have pissed off Mister Freeze.” Conner starts and you already know so much more is coming. “He was doing some suspicious shit and I went to stop him, but it didn’t go very well. I didn’t know I could freeze. Did you know we could freeze?”

“You idiot!” You slap his chest and he doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m sure you’re right, but why this time?”

“Why would you try to stop him alone? Why didn’t you ask for Batman’s help? Or Batwoman’s, I don’t know.” You’re annoyed. Conner never thinks before acting and Mister Freeze is Batman’s villain or whatever.

“I can take him!” He crosses his arms making his chest grow even bigger.

“Then what are you doing here?” You raise an eyebrow and he smiles.

“We can take him!”

“Oh, dear Rao, I swear you’re going to be my downfall one of these days.”

“Yeah, but like, not today.” Conner smiles at you. “Come on, lab rat. We haven’t been on an adventure in a while. I promise your moms won’t hear a word about it.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about that.” You smile back at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Gotham and kick some ass.”

You know you shouldn’t do something like this, and you also know it would be a lot easier to just call Supergirl and she could end this whole thing in less than a second. Come on, Mister Freeze got nothing on her. But you still want to prove your worth and you can hold your own in a fight. This could be a good opportunity, if you don’t mess it up.

“Yeah! Ok! Let’s do it. Team lab rats working together again.” Conner gets excited really fast. “Oh, let’s change into our superhero clothes.”

His superhero’s clothes consist in a black tight t-shirt with the symbol of the House of El and a pair of jeans, which is stupid. Your superhero’s clothes are, somehow, even stupider, because is Kara’s old suit minus the cape and the boots. Honestly, you look like a bad Supergirl’s cosplay.

“You look great! Very Supergirl-ish.” He holds his thumbs up with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, the skirt is nice.”

“Seriously, shut up.” You punch him in the arm and he laughs. “Come on, Superboy, lead the way.”

Conner flies away and you follow him to Gotham. When you land there, you already know everything that’s been going on in his life since the last time you saw him and vice-versa. He leads you to the front of an ice castle and you breathe the new air. Gotham’s air sucks. Actually, Gotham sucks entirely.

“That’s his evil lair.” He points and you scoff.

“Fortress of Solitude rip-off.” You say and he looks at you confused.

“Haven’t been.” He shrugs, making you smile apologetic. You can’t believe Superman hasn’t taken him there yet. The whole experience is almost like a rite of passage. “Anyways, what do we do? Just burst in there and like, kick his ass?”

“Why am I not surprised that you don’t have a plan?” You ask, making him laugh and you have to think of a plan on the spot. “Ok, you already pissed him off so, yeah, you burst in there and distract him while I sneak in and try to figure out his plan and a way to ruin it.”

“See, that’s why we make such a great team.” He looks way too excited to do this. He studies your face for a while. “Are you scared?”

“No! I just have this terrified look on my face because we’re going to have so much fun!” You say ironically and he nods excitedly. He is like a puppy.

“Come on! It is kind of fun.” He pokes your arm and you roll your eyes.

“What is wrong with you? Is this because you were created in a lab?” You make fun of him and he laughs unbothered.

“Ok, where’s the girl that destroyed an entire mountain?” Now is his turn to make fun of you.

“I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

“Well, you did. Now you’re going to march in there and find out his plans and crush him into pieces for freezing your favorite cousin.” You just look at him blankly until he sighs and adds. “After Jamie.”

“Ok. Let’s do it! Let’s kick his ass and show my momma that I’m all about that superhero’s life.”

“Ok, ok. Slightly different motive. Still works. Let’s do it!” You two highfive and then he flies into the ice castle. You can see him breaking everything and you wait a little to go inside. When you do, you see Conner in a pretty heated argument turning into a fight with Mister Freeze, distracting him enough. It doesn’t take you long to find his evil plan. You might not know exactly what the machine does, but you know for sure it’s not a house heater. One shot with the heat vision and the whole thing explodes.

You fly away from the explosion and go to where the fight is happening to help Conner. He is inside a large block of ice. You can’t believe he got frozen twice. Such a loser. You shot the block of ice with your heat vision just in time, because soon Mister Freeze notices your presence.

“This isn’t your fight, Supergirl.” He says to you.

“Well, I’m not Supergirl, so…” You fly towards him with a close fist and hit him right in the face throwing him backwards.

Superboy finally completely unfreezes himself and joins you. While Mister Freeze is distracted with Conner, you pick up his own gun and shoot him. Soon he’s the one stuck in a very large block of ice.

“Yeah!” Conner celebrates throwing his fist in the air. “The lab rats do it again!”

You two laugh and hug. Then you realize you’re still in a super villain’s lair and that you two probably look really pathetic right now, so you stop the whole celebration part.

“Well, Superboy, hope to see you a lot more and, at the same time, a lot less.” You say with a playful laugh and he smiles at you.

“See you around, cousin.”

You fly back to National City with a proud smile on your face. You kicked some serious butt today and it wasn’t even that hard. Granted this super villain is kind of a mess, but you did it. Well, you and Superboy, anyways.

You’re back home with time to spare for dinner. Your moms are in the kitchen when you walk in and they both turn to you as soon as you step in.

“Hey kid! We’re making dinner, come help us.” Kara says with a smile and you sit on the other side of the counter. She realizes you’re not going to help. “Or you can just sit and watch.”

“Sure. I’m great at that.” You smile picking a baby carrot that Lena is currently putting in the salad. She looks at you and smiles.

“How was your day, babygirl?” Lena asks and you look at your backpack on the floor next to you. The super suit tucked in there and you smile lightly.

“Eh.” You pick another carrot from the plate. “It was fine. Yours?”

“So, nothing exciting happened today?” Kara asks. She has her back turned to you so you can’t see her face. You swallow.

“Um. Not particularly. Did something exciting happen to you?”

“Actually, yes.” Kara turns to you and looks right at your lying face. “Apparently, Supergirl was spotted in Gotham today.”

“Oh, you went to Gotham?” Lena asks looking at Kara.

“I did not. But she was there, y’know. Old suit in all its glory. Minus the cape.”

“Yeah, what is the cape for anyway? Capes don’t seem very useful. And it can get caught in an airplane propeller and like…” Kara and Lena just raise their eyebrows at you and you shut up.

“She also looked a lot younger.” Kara keeps going and you hold your breath. You got caught. No more running from it.

“Conner needed help.”

“Ah. Of course.” Lena laughs.

“Oh yes, Superboy was there too, did I forget to mention?” She says elbowing Lena and they just smile at each other like they know a secret you don’t. “So, did he have your back?”

“More like I had his.” You say with a cocky smile.

“Lucky him.” Kara winks at you and turns on her heels back to do whatever she was doing before. Lena is still cutting the vegetables and you stand there for a full minute waiting for them to ground you or yell at you, but they just go on with the dinner.

“That’s it? No lecture about going to Gotham and bursting into some super villain’s lair and destroying his evil plans?” You ask confused and Kara turns her face to look at you.

“No. Why? Did you do it wrong?”

“I-No!”

“Great. Oh, next time, maybe use your own suit.” Kara says and you furrow your brows.

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Well, then I guess we have to work on that.” Kara smiles again and you’re shocked. Did you really fly all the way to Gotham city to help Superboy and your momma just rewarded you with a super suit? I mean you’re not complaining, but is that really what just happened?

Notes:

I used Superboy origin story from the Titans show. Thought it made sense :)

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #kara x lena #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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possiblypeachy · 4 years ago

Text

; car keys

― summary: most believed you and sam didn’t like each other-- yourselves included. but, when a mission goes awry, so do the hateful little façades you keep up.

― pairing: sam drake x reader

― word count: 3.5k (ish)

― warnings: swearing, violence (of the normal uncharted standard, i feel)

― A/N: this was a request from a while ago but i think it’s too late to like reply directly to it now so instead i present it to you all like this! there’s nothing better than a bit of mr samuel over here to get me back on the writing scene

my requests are OPEN if any of you are so inclined ;)

― ❊ ―

“Sam, throw me the car keys!”

Your gaze peered above the desk you’d kicked over, in a way similar to a mole testing the daylight, but when a spray of bullets shattered the glass behind you, you soon pushed yourself closer to the ground. Could today have gotten any worse? You didn’t think so. What was supposed to be a simple pick-up had turned into… this: a horrible tangle of guns, curses in a foreign tongue, and really quite lovely upholstery being destroyed. Maybe if you or Sam had died it could be considered worse but, at this point, you wouldn’t have even been surprised. Honestly, you had no idea if Sam was still alive on the other side of that counter; you couldn’t see his head peeking over the top and nor could you see his obnoxiously striped shirt from this angle.

“What?”

So he was still alive.

“The fucking car keys, Sam!” You let loose a few shots, arm twisted uncomfortably so you didn’t have to come entirely out of cover, and blindly hoped that someone would die so you both could have a breather. Yet, the assault continued, made clear by the sound of an empty clip being thrown to the ground over yonder. There: another curse in a language mostly unknown to you but you’d picked up enough in your time here to know that someone had just called you a ‘bitch’, followed by some far more offensive words that you were half-glad you couldn’t understand. There was no answer from your partner and so, despite your throat being dry and sore from the heat, you shouted again, “Sam? Now is not the time to ignore--”

“I gave them back to you!” You could just hear the irritation in his tone and you clenched your jaw. Stupid bastard. “You don’t have them?”

It was then that he took the opportunity to shuffle around the counter, meeting eyes with you briefly, before gesturing for you to make space for him. You, of course, had no choice in whether or not to do this because he was already lunging into a spot that you hadn’t yet made. You both bumped each other briefly, your shoulder knocking against the desk, before you were able to find a comfortable position-- well, as comfortable as possible with about six very angry armed men behind you.

Now wonderfully pissed off with your partner, you gave him a brief side glance before shooting again. “You’ve lost them?”

When he rolled his eyes, his head went with them. “I just told you--”

“Well, you didn’t give them back to me--”

“We were near that— uh— that little fish stall and--” He cut himself short, favouring pulling your head back into cover with a hand over arguing with you. He held you there as you came down from your brief-yet-blinding adrenaline high, ensuring that you didn’t foolishly pop up from behind the desk again like some kind of stupid weasel with a death wish. As soon as you realised this, you batted him away, the look on your face dripping with an underlying loss of pride, and reloaded your gun to avoid eye contact.

Despite your arguments, the pair of you were loyal to a fault and, while you did break your arm half-because of him once, you were both diligent in your protection of each other. When you thought of Sam Drake, your first reaction was to frown and reel off countless stories of him being an asshole. But, did you want hurt to come to him? No. Did you want to stop working with him? No. Did your heart churn a little bit when you thought of moments like these? Perhaps, though you’d be shot dead before you told anyone. When Sully had pointed out this strange hot-and-cold thing you both seemed to have going on, it was like he’d asked a teenage boy if he had certain magazines underneath his bed; “What? No--”, “Why would you ever think that?”, “That’s disgusting”-- you know, all of those lies.

“If we don’t have the keys, you’re gonna have to radio Victor.” As he mentioned this, he flinched away from bullets overhead, almost knocking his chin on your shoulder. “I broke my radio when we got split.”

You accidentally elbowed his collar when you turned to shoot. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Sam.”

“Really?” He feigned hurt when you looked at him next. “No, ‘Oh, Sam, I’m glad you’re not injured?’ Or ‘Sam, I’m relieved we found each other--’”

There was the brief, harsh static of a radio to cut him off and, as you asked “Sully?” down it, your gaze was like an ice burn on his skin.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“We’re in a bit of a--” bullets slammed into the other side of the desk, wood chips now littering your hair. God, were you glad this thing was thick.

“Got trouble?”

“Yeah, and Sam lost our car keys--”

“I did not--”

“Figure this out at the bike racks behind school.” There was a certain amusement in Sully’s voice-- you could almost picture his sly little grin on the other side of the radio-- but you couldn’t deny that he was probably right; perhaps in the middle of a hotel lobby, surrounded by furious henchmen, wasn’t the best place to argue out your differences. “What do you guys need me to do?”

Sam, of course, still found time to be a wise-ass. “Sit and listen to our woes, Victor. That’s all that we’d like--”

You hit him in the arm and he winced. Rather than listen to your woes, all Sully heard was another spray of bullets on the other end of the receiver. “You’re nearby, right?”

“Got a cigar and some whiskey in that shady little motel we’re staying in, if that’s what you’re asking.”

At that, the pair of you found yourself huffing out a shared laugh between returning fire to those behind you. There was a pained shout-- that’s one down, at least-- and you pressed on the radio again. “Afraid that whiskey might have to wait, old man; we need you here. Now.”

“Preferablywithacar--” Sam managed to squeeze in before you clipped the radio back onto your belt. A brief look was shared between you both-- something similar to the look you’d give a friend when they did something idiotic-- before you, in unison, peeked over the desk again.

The assailants were starting to encroach on your little bubble of safety and, for each one that you’d taken out, it seemed like more were filing in. To your back, there were the main doors to the hotel, glass shattered all on the lovely red carpet-- a shame. That would be your exit— if Sully got here fast enough.

You had to give it to the old man: for how many years he had on him, he wasn’t afraid to get those creaky bones moving. By the time you were settled down, a nice partner, a few kids (if you ever really felt like it), Sully’d probably still be out swindling people and getting shot at. It was his passion, you supposed, but, God, at his age you’d rather be at home with a warm drink and a newspaper than making enemies left, right and—

“(Name)!”

At that, you could’ve jumped out of your skin. But, rather, you were thrown in the gap between Sam and the desk, his grip tight on your bicep, with very little time to think nor realise what was happening. There was a gunshot, then Sam’s body lifted upwards from beside you. Another gunshot, a sharp groan of pain, and a body falling to the floor. Not Sam’s, you were relieved to see— well, Sully would be more relieved to see it. Probably. Yeah, most definitely.

You reached up to yank him further into cover, lest he get shot. He did follow the force of your pull, sure, but also now your hand was smearing blood along his shirt. Fresh blood. His blood.

“Holy shit! Sam--”

“In the same fucking arm! I got shot in the--” he cut himself off with a groan, obviously tensing too much in his anger and agitating the bullet lodged into his bicep.

“Are you alright?” There was certainly a worry in your voice that was genuine-- eyes blown-wide.

Sam shuffled backwards, leaning his back against the desk, pistol still tight in the grip of his other hand. “Yeah, I’m just dandy, honey.”

You could only describe that sarcasm as ‘sobering’ and the familiarity of the fed-up glint in your eyes made him huff out a laugh. However, you didn’t seem to be finding the same humour in the situation as he was and you unclipped the radio from your belt. “Sully? Where are you?”

Bullets rang out across the room again and, just as Sam went to lean up over the desk and shoot, you pressed him back down with the radio to his chest and a quiet, “Don’t”. Instead, you took to retaliating against the opposition, the overwhelming adrenaline making your aim shaky and your head ache.

Sam clicked the radio on again. “Victor, buddy,” his voice sounded weak but in an overwhelmingly fake way; you would’ve shot him a chiding look had you not been trying to keep you both alive, “I think I’m bleeding out. I won’t last long. You gotta look after (Name) when I’m--”

A grenade smashed yet more of the window-- but from the outside this time. There was the distant rev of a car and-- you sniffed the air-- could you already smell cigars? You curled yourself over Sam, pulling his head down beneath you so no shrapnel from the explosion gave him the excuse to complain more.

The blast was deafening and you found one of your eyes watering at the pain of the noise. It seemed to have taken the majority of them out, the panicked shouting of a man with a dead leg the only thing you could hear on the other side of the lobby. Then, there was a loud, slow creaking as if a tree were about to fall or maybe that huge support column in the lobby--

“Holy shit.”

You began to hoist Sam up, tugging on his good arm to get him to his feet. “Sam-- Sam, we’ve gotta--” your eyes flickered up to the beam and it was splintering at the bottom, the ceiling following its swaying movements, “-- move. Now!”

“I know! I know!” He stumbled forward, almost falling straight into the glass-laced carpet if not for you being a wonderful makeshift pole. “Victor better have some bandages in that car…”

Glass crunching underfoot, the pair of you pushed out to the getaway vehicle-- a car that looked like a rusted 1970s sedan-- loose shots being made behind you in case anyone tried to follow. Now, you were unsure if you trusted the building to stay up more than you trusted this shitty little car to get the three of you away in time but you bit the bullet and began to shovel yourself into the back with Sam-- who you think almost cried when you accidentally pushed near his bullet wound.

“Step on it, Victor.”

Sully didn’t need much more than that to kick the engine into gear. The exhaust sputtered something out of it, a cloud of black rising behind the car, then the tires began to squeak and you were launched into motion. One hand was on Sam’s chest to keep him from careening through the windscreen and the other was on the back of Sully’s chair to stabilise yourself.

“Did you bring any bandages or--”

“In the trunk, kiddo.”

You hummed and leant up over the backseat and, as you flailed your arm around in the back trying to reach the medical supplies, through the tiny rear window you could see the second level of the hotel sliding to the left and destroying the poor little convenience store next door. A shame; you’d gotten a lovely bottle of juice there just before the whole fiasco.

Sam’s groaning beside you made you snap your head around to look at him, a quiet “oh yeah” from you gearing him up perfectly for one his stupid comments. However, Sully turned a corner a little too vigorously and Sam had to bite his tongue to keep back a groan. Thank God.

“Don’t cry.” Your tone was mocking and you gave him a smart-assed half-smile as you unravelled the bandages. With more gentleness than either of you would care to admit, you lifted his arm slightly and, when Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth, your hand was light and comforting on his stomach. “Hold it there for me.” He hummed, nodding, and you then went about wrapping his wound up; you’d clean him up properly at the hotel but, for now, you had to make sure that nothing could happen to it— or him— on the way there.

Damn this country and it’s jagged roads; this car ride was going to be hellish.

Sully threw you the keys to your room-- the smallest of the three, which you were less than happy about-- and you fumbled with the lock for a few moments. “Sam! In here.” You gestured with your head towards the room, holding the door open with a foot while the other half of your body ushered him inside.

“I appreciate the sentiment but I just don’t think my performance would be--”

“Shut up.” As usual, your look was harsh but it made him smile anyway. “I’m gonna clean your arm up.”

He grimaced-- for fair reason. “Surely a medical professional would be better for this?”

You began to rummage through your tiny suitcase for anything that might help with the pain or the cleansing or… anything really. “I’m as close as you’re gonna get to a doctor in this forsaken country.” You could feel his exasperated stare on the back of your head. “You’ll be fine; I took a first aid course.” There was a pause. “Well, I half took it; couldn’t pay for the rest of the lessons.”

“That makes me feel great.” As you turned, your gaze met with his crooked, sarcastic smile.

“It can’t be any worse than a Shoreline mercenary pulling it out of you.”

He sat down on the edge of your bed and groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

At that, you finally laughed, crouching down beside him with a few tabs of low-strength painkillers-- it’s better than nothing, right?-- and a damp towel. He lifted his arm for you slightly as you unbandaged him, hoping that the bleeding would’ve subsided a little bit at least. It had, luckily, but it didn’t stop the wound from looking nasty; you hoped to never find out what a bullet felt like.

He winced when you began to clean up the blood, lightly dabbing the area with the towel. He should stay out of commission for a while now to recover but would he? Certainly not; he wouldn’t be the Sam you knew if he did. “You shouldn’t have taken the bullet, Sam.” You idly mentioned, aware that he was injured because of you, to which he made some sort of incredulous noise as if you were being ridiculous.

“That guy would’ve shot you in a far worse place than the arm.” He glanced down at you briefly, trying to gauge what you were feeling, but was simply met with you frowning as you folded the towel to a cleaner section. “Besides, I’ve got a reputation as a hero to upkeep.”

“I’ll hit you in the bad arm--”

“No, no! Don’t!”

A look was shared between you, quiet laughter surrounding you both, before you continued on cleaning his wound. There was a moment of silence, then you said, “Job’ll be less interesting if you have to take time off.”

He inhaled-- sharply. “Was that almost a compliment?” At his wide grin, you found yourself huffing out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m astounded, honestly. I didn’t know you had a kind bone in your body.”

“You say, as I tenderly clean your wound.”

He chuckled at that but said nothing more between winces of pain, the sting of you cleaning it now hurting less than the ache of the wound itself. The quiet was comfortable-- something that not many would’ve expected between the two of you-- and Sam leant slightly, unknowingly or not, closer. It seemed as though he was trying to watch you pat at his injury but you would rather do anything than move your gaze away from the task at hand to check, lest you lock eyes with him and he says something about it, lips tugged up at one corner.

You pursed your lips, deciding whether or not you were satisfied with your work, before leaning over the bed to grab the gauze and bandages. It wouldn’t be your problem to remove the bullet; Sam would have to go to a hospital for that-- you weren’t about to fuck up his arm with a pair of tweezers and a handful of determination. Instead, you were just going to pad it and bandage it a little, maybe offer to help him clean it again later if he was lucky.

Just as you lined up the gauze and began to carefully wrap the bandage around his arm, Sam moved somewhat and it forced you to stop, shooting him a look of both concern and confusion. He closed his eyes for a moment, during which you furrowed your brows, and when he opened them he said: “I’d do it again, you know?”

“What? Get shot?”

“For you, yeah. I’d do it again.”

You swallowed and simply continued to bandage him up. God knows how you were supposed to react. You didn’t know what he meant behind his words-- or at least you didn’t want to get any hopes up-- but you would be lying if you couldn’t hear your heart in your ears right now.

So, you laughed.

It was breathy-- through the nose-- and your brows raised at the same time but you didn’t dare to look up at him. “How much blood did you lose, Sam?”

“Don’t--” he sighed, cutting himself off in favour of rolling his eyes. “Look at me, (Name).” You refused to. Adamantly so. “Please.” There was a pause. Then, you decided that you’d bite the bullet and let your gaze drag from the ever-so-interesting task of bandaging to his face. For a moment, it seemed like he’d lost all ability to speak, mouth open like he was meant to be saying something. Instead, he blinked and rolled his lips inward; it seemed like he was trying to bite a bullet of his own. “I’m… tired of acting like I hate you just to-- to push back--” it appeared that Sam wasn’t as good with words as he always made out but you couldn’t blame him; he was on the verge of saying things you had only thought of-- a guilty daydream that happened on long car rides or a look thrown at him that had shown only a fraction of what you had been thinking about. “To push back whatever the fuck goes on in my mind when I look at you. It’s… ridiculous.”

At that, you laughed quietly, breaking away from his gaze to look down at your hands. When your eyes met his again, he seemed confused. Sam raised a brow, to which you gave a smile. “I didn’t know you were such a wordsmith, Sir Samuel.”

He groaned but that grin of his was unmistakable. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” Usually, such a phrase would be said with a bit of growl behind it-- some spite-- but this time it was almost adoring. That in itself made you smile up at him, creating a pause in which you seemed to just be studying his face. You took that moment to grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, drawing him closer to you until you could--

“Hey, Sam? Do you have a spare lighter? I must’a--” The door opened, revealing Sully who had been hopelessly patting himself down until he laid eyes upon the scene before him. The pair of you scrambled apart, both still too used to acting like you despised each other to be seen within a metre of the other, but Sully had already seen. He had already had time to process. So, there came the expected “Oh ho ho ho!”, to which both you and Sam sighed and let your heads loll backwards. “You wait till I tell Nate about this! He owes me twenty bucks.”

With that, Sully left the room, a terrible grin on his face, already pulling his phone out of his back pocket. Silence fell over the two of you until Sam finally let his gaze drag back to you and you met him with the same amount of fatigue in your eyes. It was then that you both began to laugh.

“We’re never gonna hear the end of it, are we?”

He pshhh-ed. “No. Of course not.”

#mm a comeback to writing #i aim to write FOR people again to bring me some joy in this lockdown #uncharted #uncharted 4 #well... after it #sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #writing

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

Text

life is just a classroom

A 6k addition to this verse with Teacher!Cas and Teacher!Dean

Jody has never seen her staff with their heads so far up their own asses. They get one reasonably attractive new hire, and everyone is acting more like gossiping, horny teenagers than sane, I-am-responsible-for-multiple-children, teachers. Luckily, Jody’s the principal and expert in wrangling children and adults of all maturity levels.

But this, as Bobby used to say, is too early for this shit.

It’s 7:00 am, and if Jody has to hear one more word about Castiel Novak and his brooding stare and baby blue eyes, she’s going to dump her coffee all over Daphne Allen’s head. It’s not like the Teachers Lounge hasn’t seen more than its fair share of spilled coffee. The brown-ish grey-ish carpet is more for utility than aesthetics, and is probably older than Jody herself.

“I’ve been trying to find out more about him, but he’s so reserved,” Daphne is saying. She sighs. “I’ve always been a sucker for the strong, silent types.”

Jody rolls her eyes and adds more sugar to her coffee.

“I think he mentioned he was actually a student here,” Kelly says, leaning in conspiratorially, “the same year as Dean.”

“No way,” Daphne breathes.

Jody dumps in more sugar.

“Has Dean mentioned anything about him? Is he single?”

For Christ’s sake. It’s the second day of school - Jody is very confident her teachers have better things to do than cross boundaries with new colleagues.

Daphne frowns. “No, he hasn’t. But Castiel definitely doesn’t wear a ring.”

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Would I even be talking about him if I thought he was married?”

Jody clears her throat, saying loudly, “Well, I’d better get back to work. Morning announcements will start soon.”

Both Kelly and Daphne jump guiltily.

Pleased, Jody strides out of the Teachers Lounge, nearly running into Donna. “Here,” she says, pressing the coffee into her hands. “I put too much sugar in it anyway.”

“Oh, hey, thanks Jody-o!” Donna beams.

Jody jerks her head towards Daphne and Kelly, heads ducked together and clearly already back to it. “Watch out for ‘em. They’ll get you sucked in gossiping about the new hire.”

“That Castiel?” Donna asks, her eyes lighting up. “He’s such an angel.”

“Not you too,” Jody grumbles as she stalks out. She has a school to run.

* * *

“Bonne journée, tout le monde.” Castiel waves his students out. “Etudiez bien pour le quiz la semaine prochaine! Si vous avez besoin d’aide, n'hésitez pas à venir me voir.”

Daphne lets the juniors stream past her, steels herself, and knocks on the door.

“Oui?” he asks without looking up.

Daphne swallows nervously. “Castiel?”

Castiel straightens, and holy hell, those eyes are so blue. “Hello,” he says, “I’m sorry, I thought you were a student.”

“No worries at all,” Daphne says with tittering laugh. “I was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink?”

“A drink?” Castiel echoes.

“To celebrate the end of the first week?” Daphne adds. “Kelly, Aaron, and I have a little tradition.”

“I see,” Castiel says, sounding taken aback. He fiddles with the strap of his bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

As the seconds drag on without a response, Daphne frowns. Is he going to refuse? Daphne had told Kelly this was a stupid plan -

“Can I bring Dean?” he asks.

Daphne blinks. “Dean? Yes, of course,” she says, mentally recalibrating her assessment of Edlund High's newest Latin/French teacher. He and Dean must be closer than she had assumed from their interactions in the Language Office. Maybe Castiel is less the stoically reserved type and more the shy, socially awkward wallflower. Her heart melts, so she adds, “the more the merrier.”

“Wonderful,” Castiel says, smiling. “What time?”

“We were thinking of leaving in like an hour,” Daphne says, “but you can also meet us there - Fizzle’s Folly? It’s on Water Street.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows at the name.

Daphne giggles. “Garth’s wife - have you met Garth? He teaches Chem - owns it. There’s a whole story there, but I can tell you later, if you like.”

Castiel smiles. “I’d like that, thank you.” He hefts his shoulder bag higher. “I grew up here, but it’s been a number of years since I spent a long time in this school district. I don’t remember a Fizzle’s Folly.”

“It used to be called Fenris,” Daphne says as they walk out.

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t that a biker bar?”

“Yup, that’s the one,” Daphne says, nodding to Krissy Chambers and her friend Josephine as they pass by. “It underwent a little bit of a makeover when Garth and Bess took over.”

“So no bikers?”

“Not unless you count Garth,” Daphne says, grinning, as she pushes open the door to the Language Office. “He owns a motorcycle, if you can believe - oh, hey, Dean.”

Dean glances up from his desk at Daphne’s acknowledgement. “Hey,” he says slowly, his eyes flicking from Castiel to Daphne and back again. “What’s up?”

“Daphne invited me out for drinks,” Castiel says as Dean’s eyebrows rise, “Would you like to come?”

Dean’s mouth purses. “Wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”

“I already asked,” Castiel says as Daphne nods once.

And maybe in a week, once Daphne and Castiel know each other better, they can get drinks alone together. Or Kelly can get drinks alone with him. Daphne won’t fight Kelly for him, and Kelly won’t fight her. He’s not a piece of meat, as Kelly is all too fond of reminding if they go too far after too many margaritas.

After a beat, Dean says in a funny voice, “Okay then.”

Daphne walks around the both of them to get to her desk. “Aaron’s going to be there, if that matters,” she says without looking up.

“Aaron?” Castiel asks curiously.

“History teacher,” Dean says at the same time that Daphne provides, “Dean’s ex.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose as Castiel turns to him.

“Not an ex,” Dean grumbles. “We had a thing. Briefly. Years ago. It was before-” he coughs, “anyway.”

“I see,” Castiel deadpans.

Daphne frowns, meeting Castiel’s gaze over Dean’s head. “We are a LGBTQ friendly school,” she says sharply. “Dean runs the Gay-Straight-Alliance. If you have any… issues with that, I’d recommend talking to Jody before we leave.”

Dean looks oddly touched. “Thanks, Daph.”

Castiel just shakes his head. “I’m not homophobic. Dean can attest to that.”

“He had a boyfriend in high school,” Dean says with a grin.

Daphne’s face heats up embarrassingly quickly. “Ah - good for you.”

It’s not the end of the world. He could be bi, like Dean.

* * *

Aaron’s glad Dean and Castiel are here, if just to steer the conversation away from all the boy talk. He always has a good time with Kelly and Daphne, but, damn, they can really fixate. Lately, all they’ve been focusing on is Castiel, which, Aaron can kind of get behind - even though, obviously, Dean is more his type.

Thankfully they’ve cooled it with Castiel actually in the room with them.

Poor dude looks in over his head by the time they’re all sipping their second round of drinks. That’s probably why, when Aaron offers to get refills and snacks, Castiel jumps up to assist, quick on his heels.

Daphne and Kelly’s eyes follow Castiel’s ass to the bar. Sometimes they really are shameless.

“You doing okay?” Aaron asks after he’s flagged down the bartender.

“Oh yes,” Castiel says, bobbing his head in a nod. “It’s just… I don’t get out often.”

“I know they can be a bit much,” Aaron says, jerking his head back at their table. “If you want them to cool it with the questions, just say so.”

“I don’t mind.”

Aaron makes a face but doesn’t comment further. It’s Castiel’s funeral if he wants to keep playing into Kelly and Daphne’s hands like silly putty. Aaron warned the guy. He did his job to uphold bros before hos - even if Castiel is barely a bro and Aaron co-ran Kelly's campaign for City Council and let her cry into his shoulder when she lost, and he went to church with Daphne for a couple weeks because she knew her abusive ex-boyfriend was going to be there.

Mom practically had a heart attack when she heard about the Church thing through the grapevine, which stunned Aaron to no end because, of all his siblings, he was the only one who actually followed up on his threat to get kicked out of Hebrew school. Organized religion has never been his thing, anyway. Two Sundays with Kelly sandwiching Daphne in the pews wasn’t going to change that.

Moreover, it’s not like Aaron's never leaned on the girls for help. Daphne called her second-cousin, the cardiologist, to give a third-opinion on Dad's diagnosis. Kelly let Aaron sleep on her couch for a month because she lived across the street from the hospital. They listened to him whine about his unrequited thing for Dean Winchester when everything else in his life was going to hell. Speaking of-

“So you know Dean pretty well?” Aaron asks casually.

Castiel freezes.

“You keep staring at him,” Aaron says.

“I -”

“Relax,” Aaron says as he leans back against the bar. “Been there.”

Castiel purses his lips. “Daphne did mention you were… involved.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Aaron says, since Daphne could’ve been a lot more damning in her assessment. “We slept together a couple of times. I was feeling it - he wasn’t - and that was the end of that.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, looking relieved. He glances at Aaron out of the corner of his eye. “And do you still… like him?”

Aaron snorts. “I mean, we’re not in middle school. It’s a little more complicated.”

Castiel’s brows draw together in a forbidding frown.

“I was just gonna say,” Aaron supplies quickly, “do I still think he’s hot? Yes, I have eyes. Do I want to marry him and push my mother over the edge by marrying a guy and a goy? Not anymore.”

Castiel settles back down, and Aaron makes a mental note not to piss him off anytime soon. “A word of advice?” he says as he turns back around to grab their drinks, “Don’t insult his car - or Led Zeppelin - or his brother.”

Surprised, Castiel takes a moment before laughing. “Or pie.”

“No quicker way to get your name on Dean Winchester’s shit list,” Aaron agrees. He surveys Castiel again. “So you know him pretty well already?”

Castiel shrugs. “We went to high school together.”

“Kelly mentioned,” Aaron says. “What was he like?”

“Dean?”

“No, Gary Busey,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes, “of course Dean.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Very similar to how he is now,” he says, which doesn’t tell Aaron much. “Charming. Caring. Intelligent in the strangest of ways.” Castiel pauses. “Handsome.”

“Yeah, that does sound like him,” Aaron agrees. He’s been on the receiving end of Dean’s charm offensive once or twice. It’s always left his head spinning.

Interrupting his train of thought, “Hey!” Dean calls shamelessly across the bar. “What are you two alte kakers up to?”

Aaron waves him off, unable to hide his smile at Dean’s casual Yiddish. He only picked up two or three words from Aaron, back when Aaron dove head-first into his ill-advised thing with Dean so he didn’t have to think about all the other shit going on in his life. “Here, grab the sides will you?” Aaron asks Castiel. “I think we’ve left Dean alone with them for long enough.”

Castiel dutifully picks up the mozzarella sticks and fries as Aaron double-checks his tray of glasses won’t topple over.

“Watch who you’re calling old men,” Aaron tells Dean as he sets the drinks down at their table.

“You were just gabbing up there,” Dean protests, reaching for his beer, “leaving these two lovely ladies with only little old me for company.”

Castiel snorts as Daphne rolls her eyes above the rim of her drink.

“Then you should’ve gone with yentas ,” Aaron says as he sits down.

“Like Barbra Streisand?” Dean eyes them both up and down. “Can’t say I see the resemblance.”

Aaron runs a hand down his face. “How do you know Barbra Streisand and not what yenta means?”

“Sammy made me watch it,” Dean says into his beer.

Aaron laughs. “Sure.”

“Hey, Castiel,” Daphne interrupts, “Dean was telling us the funniest story about you from way back-”

Castiel shoots Aaron a desperate look, but Aaron just grabs a mozzarella stick and settles in. Let the girls have their fun.

* * *

“So, Castiel, are you seeing anyone?” Kelly asks after finishing her third whiskey sour. Nine months of sobriety/pregnancy had shot her tolerance to nothing. And, sure, Jack is almost four now, but Kelly still has a hard time knowing when to call it quits.

Whatever. She doesn’t regret the question. It’s been plaguing her and Daphne - and by extension Aaron because he had to listen to them - for a whole goddamn week.

Daphne’s eyes go wide.

Off to the side, Aaron slaps his hand to his forehead.

Dean turns to Castiel, his gaze piercing.

Castiel goes bright red. It’s a good color on him. Brings out the blue in his eyes. “I - well, that is to say - I am not - it’s complicated?” he fumbles.

Dean snorts as he picks up his beer to take a long pull.

Kelly frowns. “It’s complicated?” she repeats, disappointed. “How?”

“I am not comfortable discussing my personal life with colleagues,” Castiel says stiltedly.

Dean thumps him on the back. “Good move,” he says, “these three are the worst gossips in the school.”

“Hey!” Kelly protests automatically although Dean is, unfortunately, right. But it’s not her fault everyone else on staff at Edlund High doesn’t know how to have a good time.

Daphne knocks back her cosmo murderously.

Aaron shrugs.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Dean adds, “definitely has its uses. Just something for the newbie to know, right, Cas?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, sounding like he doesn’t know what exactly he’s agreeing to.

What a cutie. Kelly grins as she leans in over the table. “You want to know which students are the worst?”

Dean frowns. “Come on, there’s no need to dunk on minors.”

“Who’s dunking?” Kelly asks innocently. “I was going to warn him about Max Banes.”

“Oh, yeah, you should know about him, Cas,” Dean says with a laugh. “Kid’s a horndog. Gives my libido a run for my money.”

Castiel blinks. “Does he… pursue teachers?”

Daphne pats his hand. “Not yet. These three think it’s only a matter of time.”

“Oh,” Cas says, “That was very frowned upon at Carver Preparatory.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s frowned on here too, asshole. If he makes any… advances, just let Jody know. She and Donna - the guidance counselor - can handle it.”

“If I was going to put my psych degree to good use,” Daphne adds, “I would read into his lack of father figure. Their mom’s great, but Max doesn’t have a lot of male role models in his life.”

Kelly scowls.

Dean huffs into his beer. “Single parents have it rough, though.”

“Of course they do,” Daphne says with a significant look at Kelly. “Nobody’s saying they don’t.”

“I was raised by a single dad,” Dean protests, “and he raised me and my brother right.” He holds up a hand, and Castiel snaps his mouth shut before Kelly had even noticed it opening in the first place. “Don’t you start. I know you have thoughts about Dad, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

Kelly eyes them both curiously, but before she can ask, Aaron interrupts, “Did you guys hear about Krissy and Aidan? I think they are finally going to-”

“No way!” Daphne says, shaking her head. “She’s clueless. And he’s inept. The worst combination.”

“I believe in them,” Kelly announces. “What’d you hear, Aaron?”

As Aaron launches into the latest installment of their favorite will-they won’t-they senior couple, Kelly can finally appreciate the lazy smile Castiel wears as he settles in to listen. Maybe Aaron was right, and she and Daphne came on a little strong.

Whatever. No regrets. She wouldn’t trade that valuable intel from Castiel for anything.

* * *

That was Kelly’s last night out for a solid month. Every other weekend, her usual babysitter called in sick or said she was busy. And usually Kelly would be happy to spend more time with her son, but come on. A month with no breaks?

Christ, she’s such a bad mom.

Times like this don’t help.

“Jack?” Kelly calls, spinning around in the department store. Panic races through her veins. “Jack!”

She had turned her back for one minute to grab a set of towels from the highest shelf, and by the time she turned around, Jack was gone. She scans the surrounding racks of linens, her eyes peeled for any sign of Jack’s Spider-Man shirt. Heart beating erratically, she pushes her shopping cart back towards the bedding aisle - Jack had been enamored with a set of hideous, bright orange sheets, and Kelly had only gotten him away by bribing him with a piece of nougat.

“Jack!” she shouts again, going a bit red in the face as people turn to stare.

“Kelly?”

Shit. How could she miss Dean Winchester standing right in front of her?

“Dean!” Kelly greets, pasting on a fake smile as she cranes her neck around to scan the aisles behind him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It was recently brought to my attention I needed a bathmat,” Dean grumbles, “and a shower curtain that doesn’t have the Scooby Gang on it.”

Kelly laughs, a tad hysterically. “Probably. I - well, nice running into you. I need to go - my son’s wandered off, and I need to find him because I am not a terrible mother.”

But instead of standing to the side, Dean adopts a pained expression. “He’s four, right?”

Kelly blinks. “Yes.”

Dean jerks his head for Kelly to follow. “I think I know where he is,” Dean says griml

Bemused, Kelly pushes her cart after Dean, back to the display beds. Her eyes zero in on the orange eye-sore, currently occupied by a jumping toddler. A dark-haired man perches on one edge with his back to them, apparently trying to communicate with Kelly’s wayward son.

She all but sprints forward, nearly bumping her shopping cart into several bed frames. “Jack!” she says loudly, and Jack stops at once.

“Mama!” he calls back delightedly.

“What are you doing?”

“Jumping.”

Kelly resists the urge to facepalm. “What did I tell you about wandering off? Or talking to stran-” She backtracks, finally focusing on the man. “Oh, hi, Castiel.”

“Hello, Kelly,” Castiel says, his deep voice sending a frisson down her spine like it always does.

“You know Mama?” Jack asks, looking from Kelly to Castiel and back again.

“We work together,” Castiel explains.

“This is Castiel,” Kelly introduces, and Jack wastes no time in chirping out, “Nice to meet you Castiel!’

Castiel sticks out his hand like he’s greeting the President instead of Kelly’s four-year-old son. “You as well, Jack.”

“What’re you doing here?” Kelly asks as Jack gives Castiel’s hand a theatrical shake.

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Purchasing home goods?” He gets to his feet. “I was searching for a suitable bathmat when I found Jack.”

“A bathmat,” Kelly echoes, whirling in place to see a red-faced Dean a few paces away, apparently enthralled by a set of outrageously mundane pillows.

“Yes?” Castiel confirms, following her gaze and blushing furiously. “Ah, hello, Dean. I - I didn’t see you there?”

Dean throws his hands in the air, giving up on all pretenses. “You’re impossible,” he says to Castiel.

“You’re buying a bathmat together?” Kelly asks, confused.

“Dean doesn’t have one,” Castiel says promptly.

“I didn’t need one until-” Dean closes his mouth with a snap.

Kelly stares at the pair of them. “Do you two live together?” she demands.

Castiel opens his mouth, but no words come out.

Kelly turns to Dean, who is rapidly scanning for the exits.

“Are you the ‘it’s complicated’?” she asks curiously, only looking away as Jack pats her knee determinedly, his face hopeful.

“Up?” he asks.

Kelly sighs and hefts him into her arms. “You’re getting too big for this.”

“Am not,” Jack mumbles into her shoulder.

Kelly presses a kiss to his forehead and turns back to Castiel and Dean, who look more like two students caught passing notes than fully grown men. “Well?”

Dean shares a loaded glance with Castiel, and Kelly has no idea how she missed the whole couple thing. Eventually, he says, “After two f-” he glances at Jack, “-friggin’ years, he finally got sick of cold feet in my bathroom.”

“Two years,” Kelly gapes.

Castiel sighs. “Three.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t start sleeping over at-”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts in a growl.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. He coughs. “Anyway,” he says, “Yes, we’re dating. No, it’s not really that complicated. Cas just doesn’t like to talk about it at work.”

“Hm,” Kelly says neutrally.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around,” Castiel says as Dean snorts derisively.

“Hey,” Kelly says, defensive, “I can do that.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You can?”

“Sure, if you ask, Jesus,” Kelly says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a monster.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says gratefully.

Kelly grins. “But if I can’t spread it around, Daphne’s still going to go after him like he’s a prize heifer at a state fair.”

Castiel squints at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She was pursuing me?”

Dean guffaws. “Don’t ever change, man.” He claps him on the back while turning back to Kelly. “We can handle Daphne. Don’t worry.”

“Whatever, boys,” Kelly says as she pushes her cart back towards the linens, “it’s your funeral.” She hefts Jack higher in her arms. “Say goodbye to Dean and Castiel, Jack.” As Jack waves goodbye, she calls, “See you Monday!”

Sure, she’s a little disappointed Castiel is clearly off the dating market. But, bonus, she has blackmail material on not one, but two Edlund faculty members, and possibly a pinch-hitter babysitter waiting to happen. Not bad for a shopping trip with a four-year-old in tow.

* * *

Donna’s surprise party at Fizzle’s Folly is well underway by the time Aaron extricates himself from a lively discussion with his Head of Department and Rowena MacLeod, Edlund's chemistry teacher. Aaron will never, ever miss an opportunity to talk to a drunk Eleanor Visyak, and Rowena turned out to be surprisingly knowledgeable about 17th century English politics.

Still, he’s taken all the history talk he can stand, especially after teaching it for four hours to a bunch of high schoolers with varying degrees of interest.

He finds Daphne in one of the far booths, tucked away with Castiel and Dean, surprise, surprise. After snagging another beer at the bar, he slides in next to Daphne. “What’s up?” he asks the three of them.

“Hey,” Dean greets with a toast of his glass.

“Hello, Aaron.”

“Budge up, you’re taking like three quarters of the seat,” Daphne complains.

“Daph was just telling us about her plans to do a joint project between GSA and the Amnesty International club,” Dean says. “Cas says he’ll come to GSA next week.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks as Castiel nods in confirmation. “That’s great! I’d go check it out, but the Debate club meets at the same time.”

Castiel frowns. “Maybe I should run a club? Daphne has Amnesty International, Dean runs GSA, and you have Debate.”

“You can always ask Jody about forming a new one in January,” Aaron says. “Honestly, the hardest part’ll be finding a time to meet. Don’t go for afterschool Thursdays, or Benny will kick your ass.”

“Why?”

“He has his cooking club,” Dean says with a grin. “And, like, half the student body goes. I sometimes go and help out too, if he needs extra hands.”

“You’ll go if he’s making pie,” Aaron corrects.

“It’s for the kids!” Dean protests over Castiel’s chuckles. “Benny’s got a lot of skills, but he has a lot to learn when it comes to pie. The kids need to know how to make a good pie.”

“If only to feed you later,” Aaron mutters.

“You’ll also want to avoid Tuesdays afterschool,” Daphne tells Castiel. “Jo’s self-defense club meets then, and it’s also got a large following.”

“Yeah, all the girls who wanna be like Jo sign up, and all the boys who want to see Jo all sweaty show up with semis,” Dean says with a shudder of revulsion.

Aaron kicks him under the table. “That’s sexist. How are you forgetting all the lesbians?”

“Ah, yes, can’t forget the lesbians,” Dean agrees sagely.

“Does this school have Model UN?” Castiel asks. “I was looking to set up a chapter at Carver before I switched positions.”

“No, we don’t,” Daphne says eagerly. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Dean drains the dregs of his beer. “I’m gonna get another, Cas? Daph? A-Game?”

Aaron rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’m good,” he says, holding up his three-quarters full glass.

“Another cosmo, please?” Daphne asks.

“Sure.” Dean salutes.

“I’ll go with you,” Castiel says as Daphne’s face falls. “I need to stretch my legs.”

They leave, heads already bent together to hear each other over the dull roar of the party. “They seem close,” Aaron says, jerking his head.

Daphne sighs. “Yeah, they do,” she says morosely. She twirls her empty glass between her fingers. “Kelly’s given up on him. I think you might be right - he definitely has a thing for Dean.”

Aaron sips his beer. “I don’t blame him.”

“Of course you don’t,” Daphne says with a small grin, lightly kicking him under the table.

Before Aaron can think of anything else to say, Kelly appears over Daphne’s shoulder, her face flushed as it always gets when she drinks too much red wine. She slides into the side of the booth vacated by Dean and Castiel. “Some party, right? Did you see Garth doing shots?”

“No,” Daphne says, nose wrinkling. “And I don’t want to. I’ll stay here, out of the splash zone, thanks.”

Kelly giggles. “Why d’you think I’m over here instead of egging him on like Jo and Charlie.”

By the time Aaron finishes off the rest of his beer, Daphne’s still one cosmo short, and it’s been at least twenty minutes since he saw Dean and Castiel.

“Hey, I’ll go check up on that drink you’re waiting for,” Aaron says, getting to his feet.

“You sure?” Daphne asks, blinking hazily up at him. And okay, it’s probably good she had a breather between rounds.

“Yeah,” Aaron says, jerking his head towards the bar. “I need to piss anyway.”

“Gross,” Daphne says, nose wrinkling.

Kelly giggles, “If you think a little pee is gross, you don’t want to hear what Jack got up to with-”

Daphne actually places both hands over her ears and goes, “Na, na, na.”

Aaron leaves the pair of them laughing, with Kelly trying to pry Daphne’s hands away and Daphne getting louder with each tug.

He makes his way through the thinning crowd, waving to Eleanor when he spots her getting ready to leave and nodding to Charlie as she adjusts the empty shot glasses in front of her, Jo, and an impossibly red-faced Garth.

Aaron slides between the thinning crowd to duck out into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. As he gets closer to the men’s room, he slows. There are sounds coming from behind the door. Not like the pained bathroom sounds like Great Aunt Rachel gets after too much dairy. Porn sounds.

Aaron, torn between finding out who’s getting down and dirty at Donna’s surprise party, and getting Kelly and Daphne so they can witness the big reveal with him, is still rooted to the spot as the door bursts open and Castiel and Dean stumble out.

Cas’s hair is a bird’s nest of bedhead that would probably drop Daphne’s panties in a heartbeat. Dean’s cheeks are flushed, and Aaron definitely recognizes his immediate post-orgasm face.

“Fuck,” Dean swears as he finds his footing. He stares at Aaron, and Aaron stares right back.

“Aaron,” Castiel says breathlessly, temporarily drawing his attention. “You’re… here.”

“I had to pee,” Aaron says lamely.

“Oh, well, it’s all yours then,” Dean says, blushing to the roots of his hair as he gestures to the now available men’s room.

“Fuck no.” Aaron automatically recoils. There’s no way he’s touching any surface in that bathroom until it’s been scrubbed and bleached. He has some goddamn standards. He’d rather pee in the alley out back.

They linger awkwardly until Aaron speaks. He eyes the pair of them, his gaze ping-ponging back and forth. “So… you two are finally together?”

“Finally?” Dean echoes.

“Uh yeah,” Aaron says, confused. “Castiel clearly has a huge thing for you. Not to spill the beans or anything.”

A beat.

Dean cracks up.

Aaron, almost offended on Castiel’s behalf, opens his mouth as he catches sight of Castiel’s face, lips pressed tight together like he’s trying not to laugh. “You knew?”

Castiel slowly shakes his head as Dean leans on him for support, gasping for air. “Oh my god, Cas, that’s fucking embarrassing. D’you have a crush on me?”

“Shut up, Dean,” Castiel grumbles, shoving him off. To Aaron he says, “We’ve been dating for three years. He’s known about my feelings for a while now.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, drawing the syllable out as Dean composes himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, wiping at his eyes, “I thought I was going to give it all away, but turns out you’re just as obvious as you were in high school.”

Castiel sighs. “We were trying to not spread our relationship around.”

“Cas wanted to get settled in before people started saying he was my trophy husband,” Dean says with a wink.

Horror seizes Aaron. “You’re not married, are you?” he blurts. He glances down at their hands - no rings - and he would never forgive himself for missing something that obvious.

“No,” Castiel shakes his head, “we are only dating for now.”

“Not yet.”

Castiel turns to Dean in surprise, and Aaron really doesn’t need to be here for that conversation. “Oh-kay,” he says, sidling around them, “I still gotta,” he jerks his head towards the men’s room.

“Right!” Dean says, grinning. “We should get back to the party. Say hi to Donna.”

Aaron makes his exit, sighing in relief as the door closes behind him. He should be fine if he doesn’t touch anything. Or look at any shiny surfaces too closely. Once upon a time, he lived with a dozen Alpha Epsilon Pi brothers. He can do this.

* * *

Daphne has had it up to here with her juniors. Yes, Homecoming is this weekend. No, their essays aren’t due until next week, but that doesn’t excuse their behavior this Friday afternoon. Nobody wants to be in class at a quarter to three. High school juniors don’t. Daphne sure as hell doesn’t. They can’t cut her a little slack?

When the bell finally rings, Daphne sighs in relief. She dismisses her class with a terse, “Aufiderzein.”

She gathers her files together, grumbling to herself about stupid staff meetings on Friday. It’s like Jody wants them to surreptitiously play games on their phones and text each other when she’s looking the other way or yelling at Rowena for blowing up the Chemistry Lab again.

At least Benny always brings snacks from Thursday’s Cooking Club.

Daphne glances at her watch. Jody gives them a half-hour to get their affairs in order, but Daphne doesn’t mind staking out her seat in the Teachers Lounge early. She can save spots for Kelly and Aaron and stake out the precious few non-wobbly chairs.

She stops by the Language Office, pleasantly surprised to find it empty. No Dean, Kelly, or Castiel in sight. Daphne quickly gathers her freshmen pop quizzes to grade this weekend and her copy of Die Verwandlung.

She rounds the final corner before the Teachers Lounge and stops dead. Because Aaron and Kelly are hovering outside the door and spying through the slim glass pane. Without her.

“What’s going on?” Daphne asks curiously.

“Ah!” Kelly whirls around, clutching her heart.

“Daphne!” Aaron says loudly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Saving us a seat for the meeting?” Daphne says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like I do every month?”

Aaron and Kelly share a loaded look. Aaron is the first one to speak, “I think we’re good this time.”

“Why?” Daphne asks, stepping closer. She frowns as Kelly and Aaron automatically stand shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking her view of the narrow window.

“Students are in there,” Aaron blurts.

“Puking,” Kelly adds.

Daphne doesn’t believe them for a second. “And you’re just standing there watching it happen?”

“Schadenfreude?” Aaron tries. “It’s the mean ones. You know. The kids we don't like.”

Daphne rolls her eyes, pushing them aside and standing on her tiptoes to see.

“We tried,” Aaron grumbles to her right.

“They can’t fault us for that,” Kelly says to her left.

At first, it looks like the Teachers Lounge is empty. Most seats are unoccupied, and nobody’s loitering by the coffee machine. One of the tables is strewn with three mostly-empty mini pie tins. Cherry, by the color. Movement catches her eye, and, woah how did she miss that?

“No way,” she breathes, glancing at Aaron and Kelly for confirmation.

Aaron scuffing his shoes against the floor, nods sheepishly.

“They made me promise not to tell,” Kelly says ruefully, lips pursing.

“Dean and Castiel?” Daphne gasps, squinting to better see Edlund High’s newest hire and favorite English teacher (no offense, Kelly) getting at it on the lumpy couch in the back that no one sat on because of this very reason.

She rounds on them. “You knew?” she hisses.

Kelly huffs an impatient sigh, blowing a few brown strands of hair out of her face. “I ran into them shopping together a few weeks ago.”

Aaron grimaces. “I nearly walked in on them having sex in the bathroom at Donna’s surprise party last weekend.”

Daphne blinks at the pair of them, hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kelly opens her mouth but no words come out.

“This is the first guy since Mark you showed an interest in,” Aaron rushes to say.

“We didn’t want to ruin it,” Kelly says.

Daphne’s eyes narrow. “And you didn’t think the fact that he’s clearly taken would ruin it?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly says, throwing her hands in the hair. “Sue us, we liked seeing you happy for however long it lasted!”

Daphne softens.

“We thought,” Aaron says, glancing at Kelly for support, “You were getting over Castiel, anyway.”

A small, petty part of Daphne is tempted to deny it as punishment for keeping this from her. But mostly she’s relieved. “Yeah, mostly,” she mutters.

“So… we good?” Aaron tries.

Kelly loops her arm around her in a one-armed hug. “Of course we are.”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Of course,” she echoes as Aaron pats her on the back, a wide grin spreading over his face. And, yeah, this is why she has the two best friends on Earth.

“What are you three up to?”

The smile slides off Kelly’s face. “Jody!” she says, spinning around to meet their Principal, holding a paper cup of coffee, and trailed by what looks like half the Edlund High teachers.

Oh shit.

Aaron not-so-accidentally knocks his elbow, loudly, into the door as he turns to face Jody et al. “We didn’t see you there,” he says conversationally.

“Hm,” Jody hums as she reaches past them for the doorknob. “Meeting’s going to start in ten.”

“Can we make it fifteen?” Aaron asks desperately, shuffling to the side so he better blocks the way in.

Jody shakes her head, throwing him a bemused look. “I’m pretty sure everyone wants this started with and over as soon as possible.”

“If you need to urinate, Bass, do it now,” Rowena sniffs.

“I don’t-” Aaron starts, breaking off as Jody finally opens the door.

She stops dead in her tracks.

“Jody!” Dean’s voice carries through the doorway, uncharacteristically high. “’S it time for the meeting already?”

Jo elbows her way to the front. “Goddammit,” she says, sounding completely unsurprised as she stands next to Jody. “Really, guys?”

The rest of the staff curiously filter in.

Behind Daphne, Benny surreptitiously slides Charlie a few bills, muttering, “I told them this was stupid.”

Charlie laughs. “But you still thought they’d last until Homecoming.”

“What can I say,” Benny says, shrugging, “I’m an optimist. And I was so close.”

Daphne meets Charlie’s eyes, asking in a low voice, “Did everyone know?”

Charlie see-saws her hand back and forth as they take their seats. “About half,” she says, glancing behind them to where Dean and Castiel are attempting to make themselves presentable. “Turns out, they’re really bad at keeping the whole ‘Destiel’ thing under wraps. It’s adorable they thought they could try.”

Daphne looks too, and there’s no mistaking what Dean and Castiel were doing. Their lips are swollen from kissing, and, weirdly, Castiel’s tie faces the right way. Daphne snorts. Probably because he didn’t tie it himself, for once.

Jody clears her throat. “Alright, settle down, guys,” she says with a sharp glare in Dean and Castiel’s direction. “As you all know, Homecoming is next weekend-”

* * *

Jody pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, that’s all that was on my agenda for today’s meeting-” she waits for the cheers to die down “but, Dean and Castiel, can you stay for a sec?”

Castiel visibly swallows.

Dean scowls.

Jody waits for the rest of the staff to leave.

Nobody moves a muscle.

“Jesus Christ,” Jody swears under her breath. She’s managing children. Horrible, gossipy children. “Okay, I guess everyone could use a refresher.” She clears her throat. “PDA is strictly discouraged among faculty. It’s in the goddamn handbook, people.”

“Really, Jody?” Dean complains.

“I’m not saying you can’t be in a relationship,” Jody says with a sharp look. “Just don’t… advertise it.”

“You got something against two dudes making out?” Dean demands, half-getting up from his seat.

“Of course not, you ass,” Jody says in a long-suffering voice, “I do have something against teenagers making out in every hallway and empty classroom, which they will if they see their two favorite teachers doing it.” She shakes her head. “If you want to hold hands or take an ad out in the school paper, be my guest.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Castiel says hesitantly, wasting no time in reaching for Dean’s hand.

“Plus,” Jody says loftily, “I’ve been dating Donna for six months, and you don’t see me dragging her into supply closets, do you?” And into the stunned silence, Jody stands up to leave.

There are various cries of, “Donna?”

Donna throws her hands in the air as Kelly, Daphne, and Aaron converge on her like piranhas tasting blood in the water. “Jeez Louise,” Donna grumbles, “a little warning wouldn’t kill ya, would it Jody-o?”

“Probaby,” Jody says, giving them all a jaunty salute. “Enjoy your weekends, everyone!”

#destiel fanfic #destiel #fanfic #teacher dean #teacher castiel #human au #teachers au #jody mills #outsider pov #the story of us verse #rae writes fic #profoundnet #secret relationship #but like the worst kept secret #so does it even really count #kelly kline #aaron bass #daphne allen

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bobathirstaccount · 4 years ago

Text

You Are My Drug

Boba x fem!reader, not-so-slow burn to smut, plot-ish?

TW: unprotected sex, (sex) drug use, assault (unwanted handsy-ness; culprit gets comeuppance)

A/N: I wrote the sex scene while high on shrooms, let me know how it turned out?

***

You smiled at Boba as he walked past you, glancing into your face. You had a flirtation with him. You were almost not sure it was happening, but he had run his hand down your spine the other day, making you shudder and confirming his interest. You weren’t sure where that was going, but it was intoxicating nevertheless.

Fennec had left the palace for the day, leaving you mostly alone. The only other companions you had were Boba, Tor, and some droids. You regretted not going with her. You rummaged in the supplies room and came up with a bottle of expensive Tychonian wine. You grabbed a glass from the bar and went outside, in search of some fresh air.

The light scent of the desert met you. Hot sand and air. The suns beat down on you. You opened an umbrella and sat down with your treasure. You poured a glass and, saying “cheers” to no one in particular, took a sip. You tasted the wine, letting it roll over your tongue and sucking in some breath to aerate it. It was a nice blend. You settled in to your afternoon.

Halfway through the bottle you remembered that Tychonian wine was renowned for being exceptionally strong. You looked at the desert. It was a little bleary. You shrugged; you had nothing else to do but get drunk. You continued.

The bottle was gone and your head was on the table. It was much stronger than you thought. Much. Your head was already starting to ache. You sat up without any coordination and tried to rest your head in your hands. It took a second. Suddenly you realized you heard raspy, low laughter. You turned, annoyed. It was Boba. “It’s pretty strong,” you slurred. He nodded, “Are you okay?”

“Sure, just gonna sit here for the foreseeable future,” You shrugged slackly, feeling the alcohol in your system. “Do you mind company?” You shook your head while it hung in your hands. He sat next to you.

“You seem bored,” Boba said calmly.

You scoffed, “What was your first indication?”

“Why didn’t you go with Fennec?”  ”I regret,” you said laconically, your head spinning in circles. He passed you a bottle of water. You took it without wondering too much about why he had it. Gulping the water down, you caught him watching you keenly. You ignored his stare. “Thanks for the water,” you slurred.

“It’s nothing.”

“What brings you to my rescue?”

He hmmmed in amusement. “Just saw you out here with that bottle.” You laughed, regretting the action as you did. “Wish I woulda saved you some. I really wish.”

“I’m sure there’s more. Perhaps you will leave at least one glass’ worth next time.”

“If I try to have a next time, smack it out of my hands,” you commented dryly.

“Do you want help to your rooms?”  You considered. It’d be nice to lay down, but it was so, so far. “I dunno if I can make it,” you said honestly.

“Do you want me to take you there?”

You didn’t know exactly what he meant, but found yourself saying yes. Suddenly you felt your body moving. You realized he had scooped you up into his arms. You looked at him, shocked. He smiled slightly. Too drunk, you laid your head on his shoulder.

***

You woke up with a pounding headache. You cracked one eye open, barely. You saw a glass of water and a bottle of pain killers. You smiled shyly. You gratefully swallowed down some medicine, and sank back down into bed, waiting for it to work. After about 30 minutes, you slowly got up. You were wobbly on your feet, but felt amazingly better compared to when you’d woken up.

You checked the time; it was 11PM. You changed clothes and went to find Fennec. You two usually had spotchka and a chat a session. You would not be partaking in the spotchka, but the conversation still interested you.

***

“There you are,” Fennec commented, looking up.

“I accidentally got sloshed earlier.”

She gave an easy laugh, “Boba mentioned you found some Tychonian wine and didn’t share.”

 You winced. “Yeah, well I learned my lesson. How was Bestine?”

“Fine. Boring in fact. Just errand running.”

“Sounds incredible compared to what I subjected myself to.”

She laughed again. “Well next time, come with me. I’ll check with you before I go.” You smiled your thanks.

“We’re going to be reopening the pleasure floor in awhile. Only for ‘esteemed guests’ of Fett, of course.”

You looked at her, stunned. She shook her head. “No slaves. Paid dancers and musicians. Want to help run it? I don’t have time.” You nodded your assent. She dove into details. You tried to keep up with your addled mind.

***

Tor had ended up with managing the musicians, and you had the dancers. You were teamed up for your first joint meeting. “It’ll be great to work so closely together,” Tor said abruptly while you were going over pay rates.

“Sure,” you tried to continue. He scooted his chair closer to you. You were not going to tolerate this. You changed seats so you were now sitting across from him. He settled down and the meeting continued.

***

The meeting ended, you had bolted from the room, nearly bowling over a droid. You slowed your pace to a more dignified one and went to your meeting with the dancers you’d just hired that day. The orientation would be taken care of by a droid, but you wanted them to meet you on their first day. You wanted to be approachable. You smiled and laughed with them for a bit, then let the droid lead them on. Exhausted, you sat back in a chair. You thought about the store rooms and the wine. This time, you’d share your find with someone. You headed to the same room where you’d struck gold last time.

It didn’t take much effort to come up with an expensive brand of fire whiskey. It smelled like lighting a match across the room would ignite it. You smiled to yourself, an image of Boba flitting across your mind. You frowned, furrowing your brow. You initially had thoughts of sharing it with Fennec. It was still what you were going to do. You stuffed it under your armpit and walked out, knocking dust off yourself as you left.

You followed the corridor to the deck where you and Fennec drank together. You were definitely early, but that didn’t bother you. The two glasses clinked as you put them down. You poured yourself three fingers and sniffed it again. You felt like it was going to melt your face. You took an experimental sip. You sputtered, but got it down. You continued to sip, acclimating.

You heard voices and turned. It was Boba and Tor. Your heart leapt at Boba and your stomach dropped at seeing Tor. You were surprised they were having a tete a tete. Boba noticed you watching them and nodded at you. You smiled broadly. Tor made eye contact and smiled in a way you didn’t like. You turned back to your bottle, soured.

The suns started to set. You smiled, dusk was coming and that meant Fennec would be stopping by soon. You heard a noise and turned. The smile died on your lips. It was Tor. He was smoking something. He sat down next to you, uninvited. “Want some?” He inhaled and held it.

You eyed him. “Nah.”

“C’mon don’t be a square.”

You shook your head, “I’m already drinking.”

“What’re you doing out here, by yourself? It’s a shame.”

You ignored his presumptive gaze. “Waiting for Fennec. She’ll be along soon.”

“Well, until then I have you all to myself.” You pursed your lips, but said nothing. “It’s pretty romantic out here,” Tor leaned towards you. You shifted away from him, “Not really. It’s quite dusty and one of the suns is in my eyes.”

“Well scoot over here, the sun isn’t in my eyes. Just you.”

You rolled your eyes and stayed seated. “Why haven’t we gotten together yet?” He forged ahead.

You opened your mouth to insult him. Fennec appeared. You sighed in relief and motioned her over.

“What do we have going on here, guys?” Fennec settled in next to you.  ”I was just romancing Y/N here,” Tor winked at you.

“It wasn’t going well,” You shot back.

Fennec laughed at Tor and lifted her glass in toast to you. You clinked your glass against hers. “Now what do you have there, Tor?”

“Just a spliff,” he offered it to her. She accepted and took a hit, passing it to you. You passed it back to Tor without partaking. You were not going to be forced to humor him. He licked his lips but said nothing. The three of you sat there, drinking and Tor smoking. Finally Fennec turned it into a business meeting and asked you both for status updates. You left early, annoyed with Tor’s intrusion. You stumbled through the hallways, aiming for bed. You turned a corner and nearly ran into Boba. “Sorry!” You exclaimed, overcorrecting into the wall. Your forehead smacked onto it. You took a step back, hands going to your wound. “Awh, fuck,” you half laughed, “you always seem to catch me in compromising situations.”

He hmmd at you. “You alright?”

“Yes, I’ll be... I’ll be fine... just going to bed.” You wandered off, embarrassed despite your level of intoxication. Boba followed you at a distance and watched you safely enter your room.

***  You watched the dancers work. It was the first night the club was officially open. The day had been particularly hectic. You were trying not to be, but you were stressed. You made eye contact with a bar tender, who waved you over.

“You look pressed; drink this,” he handed you a finger’s worth of something. You drank it down, then looked at the empty glass. “What was that?” You asked belated. He laughed, “Top shelf fire whiskey. Only the best for you, love. Now relax a bit. Everything is going fine.” You couldn’t argue that right now. You sat on a bar stool and nodded. He headed off to help a guest. You drummed your fingers on the bar-top, watching the night unfold. As the night grew later, the lighting grew dimmer and the guests wilder. Some had to be cut off.

You lazily looked around, pleased with everything. Suddenly you saw Fett, in his armor. He was speaking with some Twi’lek at a corner table. Fennec was at his side. You watched, wondering what would bring him to this level. He had expressed his mixed feelings regarding reopening it in the first place. You turned back to the bar and waved someone over. You asked for a bottle of spotcha and a glass. You leaned back and poured yourself a tall one, ready to relax.

Tor appeared at your side. You audibly groaned, but it was lost in the music. He offered you something smoking again. You turned to look at him, “And this is?”  ”Just a spliff.”

You considered. It might be nice to have a hit or two to celebrate a good evening. You took the spliff from him and toked on it. Handing it back, you blew the smoke out of the side of your mouth, making eye contact with him. “Thanks,” you said. He gave you a weird smile and wandered off. You watched him, brow furrowed. Then you turned back to your drink and forgot about him.

After awhile, you started to feel strange. You did feel high, but you also felt something else. Heat was rapidly pooling in your nether regions. Your breath started to hitch. You looked around, pussy getting wet. You had to get out of public. A pair of eyes from across the room watched you as you took off.

You slipped out an entrance for the dancers and into their dressing room. You forced a smile at the few that were back there, and kept going. You snuck out the back into an empty corridor. You leaned against the wall, almost panting. You tried to focus on the sensation of cold seeping into your body from the stone. It didn’t work.

The door slid open again. It was Tor. You groaned to yourself; what a time to run into this asshole. He grabbed you by the chin and pulled your face to his, kissing you. By the time you had responded to that, he was already petting you through your pants. Revolted, you spit in his mouth and pushed him away. His touch had sparked a fire in you, and you doubled over, moaning.

“What the fuck was that for?” He asked.

“What the fuck, number one. Number two, what the fuck was in that shit you gave me?”  He smirked, “A Zeltron specialty.”

The pleasure planet? You punched him in the face, and spit on him again. “How dare you do that to me, without consent?” You screamed at him.

“Relax! It only lasts for 1 - 2 hours, and as long as you have a partner, it’s a great ride.” He reached for you. You shoved him as hard as you could, and he fell backwards, tripping over himself. You used the opportunity to walk back through the door you’d just exited. You made sure to stomp on him as you did.

Panicked, you jogged through the locker room back into the club. You’d just leave the main way now, but you hoped to do so without encountering anyone. Your pussy clutched around nothing, and you bit back a moan. You bypassed a couple dancers and droids who looked like they were going to talk to you. You were almost at the entrance when you encountered the Twi’lek party. They were departing for the evening. You got sucked in. As you walked through the exit, a hand grabbed you.

You turned around, baring your teeth in anger. You met Fett’s helmet. Your look turned to confusion. Embarrassed, you turned around to compose yourself. Then, you slowed your walk to allow him to step beside you. “Hate to be whoever you thought I was,” he intoned, amused.

“Tor,” you spat out.

“Well that’s an HR issue,” he commented dryly.

You tried to compose yourself. Tor wouldn’t get the best of you. “He’s just such a jackass, you know?”

Boba turned to you. You became aware of your pulsating pussy. “He is, sort of,” he admitted, in a quieter tone only for the two of you, pulling you nearer him by your forearm. You snorted, despite yourself. You let him pull you closer, enticed by your predicament. Your breathing was like you were walking up a steep hill. You tried to level it out before anyone noticed your chest heaving. Boba turned from you to give his farewells. You stood there, not sure if you were dismissed and in agony. Your felt your arousal oozing out of your pussy. “Will you walk with me?” Boba asked, turning back to you. You nodded, doomed.

He took your forearm again and led you away from the departing Twi’lek. You sighed audibly. “You okay?” He asked. “Yup!” You responded awkwardly. He released your arm. Your pussy clutched as you wondered how big his cock was and what it would feel like for him to slide into you. You walked silently imagining. “Are you listening?” Boba nudged you.

“Huh? No, sorry.” Your eyes flicked to your reflection in his visor. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing important, just who those idiots were,” he gestured behind him. You bit your lip as you felt the fabric of your dress rubbing against your nipples. What would his tongue feel like on them? You moaned softly as your pussy clutched again.

“Huh?”

“Oh, n-nothing.” You imagined him biting your throat.

He turned to dip into a doorway and you followed him. You watched as he removed his helmet. His eyes met yours. “That’s better.” You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. You realized and closed it awkwardly. He pulled his gauntlets off and set them aside. “You sure you’re okay?” You watched him remove his cuirass and turn towards you. You saw your hand reach out to touch his chest. “What—?” He looked at you, questioningly.

You found yourself kissing him. Two strong hands grabbed you by the shoulders. He pulled you back to look at you. Your pupils were dilated in lust and your chest was heaving. You wondered aloud how big his cock was. Your eyes widened, but he said, “You wanna see?” You nodded, relieved. You started to pull at his clothing.

“Here?” He said laughingly. You pussy clutched and you moaned. You pushed your body flush against his and tried to kiss him again. His lips met yours. You moaned into his mouth and jumped into his arms. He kissed you feverishly. You were surprised by his fervor. He turned and set you on a table. Then he started to undo his pants. You pulled at your maxi dress, trying to get it up to your hips. He assisted you eagerly. His lips were roughly on yours again. You moaned and spread your legs obscenely. His hands roamed your body, gripping and squeezing your curves. You made an overwhelmed noise and licked his face. He responded by sweeping you into a hungry kiss. He greedily pulled your dress out of the way and you felt him at your entrance. “Oh Maker, please, Boba,” you panted. He pulled your ass towards him, impaling you on his cock. You cried out as his tip stretched you out. He stopped and pulled out, then pushed back in.

“Oh please, please, Boba,” you shamelessly continued to pant. You licked his tongue and kissed him passionately. He grabbed you by the throat and fucked up into you, grunting as he did. You instantly came, pulsing and calling his name repeatedly. He groaned, surprised at the intensity. He started to fuck your pussy as you came and called out. “Hn, gonna cum,” he pulled out, replacing himself with three fingers.“No, no, no,” you prayed at him. He plunged back into you, grunting.

“Fuck me like an animal,” you pleaded. He bit you savagely, pulling out. He flipped you over and pulled your dress up, revealing your ass and pussy. “Please, please,” you spread your legs, up on your tippy toes. You felt him circle your pussy’s entrance. “Boba, please,” you begged. He slammed into you, grunting. “Oh please, please,” you continued to beg. He pulled out and slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. You keened, taking his cock. “Boba, please, fuck me, oh fuck me,” you panted, cumming on his thick cock. He grunted, “Gonna cum.” He pulled out again.

“No no no no,” you called. He plunged back into you again, calling out your name. “Yes yes yes, Boba yes,” you trilled. He fucked you desperately, panting and making all kinds of noises. “I wanna feel you cum in my pussy, oh please, please cum in me,” your pussy clamped down on him as you breathed your plea. He stilled, deep in your pussy, grunting and panting. You felt his cock spasming, “Yes yes yes, Boba yes.” You did a kegel, making him grunt again. “Fuck, oh fuck,” he breathed. He pulled out of you and slapped your ass cheeks. You moaned. “Please, more, more.”

“More? You want.. more?” He sounded husky, low. His tongue entered your pussy as his thumb found your clit. He moaned into you, making you call out, “Oh, Maker, please Boba please!” He continued his ministrations into your spasming pussy. He added three fingers, fucking you furiously. You came on his fingers, going limp and whispering his name. The pleasure you were experiencing was unparalleled. Your dream lover was fucking you senseless. And you couldn’t stop cumming on whatever he stuck in you.

He pulled away from you. You called out and looked behind you, making frantic eye contact with Boba. He returned your gaze, level. His cock appeared at your entrance. “Oh yes, Oh Maker, please fuck me.”

“What do you want?” His voice was low, husky, strained.

“Fuck my hole, Boba, please let me cum on you,” you panted, crying. He started to fuck you, grunting and groaning as he did. In several minutes he grunted, desperate above you. Your pussy clamped down on him, pulsing. He stilled deep in you, calling out your name. Finally exhausted, you started crying intermittenly. He pulled out and turned you around, pulling you into his strong embrace.  ”Tell me what to do,” he said. “Nothing,” you snuggled into him. “I’m perfect, don’t mind my crying. It just means that I’m happy.” You continued to weep softly. He smiled into your hair and kissed you. The two of you rested for a moment, then he asked, “What brought this on?” You laughed, embarrassed. But then you said the truth, “It’s been coming to you for awhile.”

“I’ve been waiting for awhile.” You looked up, surprised. “Really? Me that much?”

“Of course. I thought I was making myself clear. I only want you.” You exhaled, surprised at his statement as well as his honesty. “How come?” He smiled slightly, “Give yourself more credit.” You snuggled into him, sniffling. “Me too,” you admitted. “I mean, I only want you too.” He kissed your forehead. After another moment, you broke apart to readjust your clothing. 

“Will you come with me to my rooms?” He asked softly. You smiled and nodded, looping your arm through his. As the two of you took off, you turned to him, “You ever hear of Zeltronian spliffs?”

#boba fett smut #boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba x you #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x female reader #fennec & reader

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ka-za-ri · 4 years ago

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Personal Assistant Pt. 7 (Finale)

Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: here Part 6: here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Wow, I’m surprised y’all are here. Really, I’m humbled and honored for all the followers and all the support you’ve given me in this whirlwind of a writing marathon. Please enjoy the last course of this smut fest and lemme know how y’all are feelin’ Taglist at the end.

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader Wordcount: 8,500 ish Genre: Delicious smut Tags: Multiple Orgasms, cunnilingus, aphrodisiacs, demon sex Summary: You get to experience some intimate times with Lucifer as a year with him winds to a close.

Bonus

After your business trip, you were mandated to work from home for at least a week. Lucifer knew the extent of what you went through and bed rest was absolutely necessary to ensure you would be able to come back to work in top form. Even after a weekend of basically being bedridden right after the session, the soreness between your legs persisted as a constant reminder of just how thoroughly you had been used. So, when you received the text from him late Sunday night to work from home, you couldn’t be any more relieved. Your legs had gotten some strength back into them; but you still couldn’t freely move around without experiencing discomfort and limping.

With the holidays looming so closely, Lucifer was rather ashamed that he couldn’t give you proper vacation time off to recover. At the very least, he knew you were safe from prying eyes while you stayed at home and remoted in on your computer. It was strange though, not seeing you sitting at your desk, your back turned to him while you were entering data. He oddly missed turning around and seeing you filing away the monthly reports or retrieving files for a meeting. The office felt empty for the first time in a long time.

Caring for humans was something foreign and unfamiliar to him. But, with you, it felt like the proper thing to do.

He reasoned that he was simply doing his due diligence to visit your abode with physical paperwork that needed to be reviewed. It also seemed to be a natural thing for him to buy you some food; surely you were tired of cooking for yourself and your food supplies were dwindling from being unable to get to the grocery store. It didn’t cross his mind that food delivery was an option until he was mere meters away from your front door, one hand holding a heavy bag full of takeout and a thick pile of reports in his arm. Regardless of his oversight, it was too late to turn back now.

You had expected Lucifer to come over, drop off some papers to go over and leave you to your own devices. You had already shown to him that you could still complete the most of your usual workload in a timely manner, even if you weren't at the office with him. So, when he invited himself into your abode, stepping past you as soon as you opened the door to set down the food and papers he brought, you were taken aback to say the least. After all, Lucifer was a busy man and he had much better things to do than to get comfortable in the recliner that sat in your living room once his shoes and coat were off of him.

“It’s gotten a bit nippy out this week. Are you sure you’re running the heat here? It’s absolutely frigid.” He commented, loosening his tie and settling into the seat he had claimed as his own. You stared dumbly at your boss who had just so casually stepped into your home as if he lived there with you and was meant to unwind right in your living room. It had to be a dream, you had to be hallucinating. Yet, no matter how many times you blinked or rubbed your eyes, Lucifer was right there, in your living room, his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone.

He looked over at your stunned face, smiling a bit. “What? Am I not allowed to make a visit to my assistant who’s been ‘out sick’ all week?” He wasn’t sure what lines he had crossed, but it felt as if his presence made you uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have given you a little more of an advanced notice before coming over. The silence between the two of you grew palpable. When at the office, he was the epitome of control and composed. Humans were easy to predict in a controlled environment where there was a clear hierarchy. In such a casual setting though, he found himself rather out of place and lost. He had only vaguely ever gotten the idea of how to behave; with how you were reacting though, he was unsure how to proceed.

“Did you eat?” He asked, changing the subject and gesturing over to the food he brought on the counter. If he had been too forward with getting comfortable in your space, he could at least assuage the tension by changing the subject and moving the focus over to food and not to him. It would be the perfect time to reassess his plan of action while you were distracted by eating. “You should have something before it gets cold.”

“I was just about to order some delivery.” You admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. Having Lucifer in such an intimate setting was strange. You could tell he didn’t feel quite as at home as he was fronting and wondered just how you could get him out so he could go back to being his usual self without you around him.

“I hope you don’t mind Greek.” Lucifer visibly relaxed, walking over to the bag of food and started to take out the boxes. “A new place just opened up and the marketing head suggested I try it out.” He opened the containers, revealing some of the typical dishes you expected to see, naming each one and describing them. Some dishes you were familiar with; others you had never seen before and with each description he gave, your mouth watered a little more and your stomach grumbled in hunger.

At the loud gurgle your stomach gave once he opened the last box, Lucifer chuckled, pulling a chair out for you at the small table, now crowded with more takeout than two people could ever eat. “Eat. I know you’re hungry.”

You nodded, at least having the decorum to grab some dishes and silverware before digging into the feast in front of you. The explosion of flavors and textures was a welcome change from the pizza and Chinese takeout you had been living off of for the past week. It was hard to keep your manners in mind when the table was so crammed full of boxes and you were forced to eat with the plate in your lap, hunched over the food like the gremlin that you felt like you were.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer pick at his own food, ever composed and nonplussed that he wasn’t actually eating in the most ideal circumstances. The quiet that fell between you this time felt much better, the food serving as the perfect buffer between you and him and you could at least feel a little more yourself with proper sustenance in you.

“The year end reports are starting to roll in.” he said once you had adequate time to try everything. Now, you were just going in for seconds of what you liked best, picking at your favorites until your hunger was properly sated. “And marketing has been sending in the proposals of the ads we’ll be running this season. I’d like to go over those with you once you’re done with dinner.”

With the conversation focused on work, it was much easier to forget how awkward it had all been in the beginning when he walked through your door. You nodded, already grabbing the first folder on the stack to start skimming through reports. Ad proposals were much more fun to go over than pages upon pages of analysis. The sooner you could finish the boring stuff, you could look at the more interesting things.

“My work computer is in the room. I can move it out here once we’re done.” you said, flipping a page and sighing when there were even more numbers you needed to double check.

“No need, we’ll just move there.” He said, not realizing the connotations his words had. “You’re on sick leave and you must rest when you can. We’ll just carry on as you have for the past week.”

You felt your body heat up at his words, trying to see if he had any intentions outside of making sure you were as well rested as possible before you returned to work in a few days. You could never read him, unable to tell what his motives were, and all you could do was follow his instructions. Once all the food had been cleaned up and leftovers were stowed in the fridge, you showed him down the short hallway to your room where you had your home office set up in bed.

As you shuffled to your computer, he could tell there was still a bit of a limp in your gait and there was a mixture of pride and shame. On the one hand, he was glad that your body still remembered the amazing experience you shared with him, Diavolo and Barbatos. On the other, he was ashamed that you were pushed to that limit at all. And then, he remembered the reason he broke you at all in the first place.

So he could put you back together just how he wanted.

He let you climb into bed and settle the lap desk in place before handing you the first of the reports you needed to go over. Lucifer himself took a seat in the chair he had dragged over from your vanity to sit next to your bed and look over the projections for the next few months. Normally, he would have kept strict office hours; but with holidays, even he had to put in a few longer nights to keep up with how hectic things got.

The two of you worked in silence. Even if the location was different, the professional atmosphere was the same as it always had been at the office. The only differences were that you sat in a much more comfortable position and you were much closer to Lucifer than you normal. From where you sat, you got a much closer look at your boss while he worked. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he parsed out the plans for the upcoming month. His mouth was set in a straight, tight line whenever he crossed anything out and wrote corrections in the margins. He was beautifully efficient in his work, blitzing through several files in the time it took you to go through one.

You heard stray cats mewling from the cold outside at some point, breaking your concentration and you looked at the clock on your dresser. It was much later than you thought it would be, and you still had ad proposals to look through. Sighing and setting the reports to the side to look over during the weekend, you picked up the folders filled with ad storyboards. “Are you going home soon?” You asked, looking up at Lucifer who just finished the last of his work.

“Oh, I was waiting for you to finish so we can go over the ad proposals together. I’d like to hear your opinions on them in real time.” He said. Lucifer shifted from his place in the chair next to your bed to sitting beside you on your bed. You blushed, moving aside so he had ample room and got comfortable.

In this new position, you could feel the warmth of his body right next to yours. It was a distraction on its own, right alongside the familiar smell of his cologne. He handed you the first of the proposals, giving you a few minutes to look through it before asking for your thoughts on it.

What focus you had earlier was completely lost from being so close to Lucifer. It felt like an eternity since the last time you were in the office and having him right beside you, talking business had your mind and body in conflicting positions. While you struggled to pay attention to his words and stared at the papers in front of you, Lucifer smirked, knowing just what kind of effect he was having on you.

“So, do you think we should run it?” He asked nonchalantly leaning closer so that he could have a clear view of the storyboard.

You swallowed, trying to ignore how his voice sounded and how you could feel his breath ghosting across your neck. It was time for work, not time for your body to crave his touch, his kisses, his… everything. Stop. You blinked, turning the pages back and forth before voicing your thoughts. “I think the message of this ad is alright, but the target audience is off. If I saw this, I wouldn’t know what it’s trying to sell until it’s too late and I’m bored with it.”

He nodded, agreeing mostly with your opinion and closed the file after writing down your comments. “Alright, what about this one.” He said, pulling up the next one and letting you go through it.

Your eyes scanned the script and you immediately grimaced at how cheesy the writing was. You instinctively wanted to reject it and move onto the next one. However, your morbid sense of curiosity had you reading further and analyzing everything else in the file. In the end, your gut feeling was correct and you wholeheartedly turned it down from being produced. “Unless you want to lose half of your clients, I’d say bin that one.”

He chuckled, not bothering to write any notes on it, knowing that it wouldn’t go any further. “And what about this one?” he asked, putting another file on top of your lap desk.

You flipped through, engrossed in the storytelling and the script, rather shocked at the proposed budget to shoot an ad like this. You nodded, thinking through the allocated funds for the rest of the year and calculated if it would be feasible to go forward with the project. You crunched a few numbers, actually invested in the proposal and didn’t notice just how close Lucifer had gotten until his hand snuck its way under the sheets covering your legs and stopped at your thigh.

“What do you think?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh and your brain ceased to function for a moment. It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time he did anything like this to you. You looked over to him and smiled, trying to go back to the subject at hand, though your brain refused to process what he was asking you.

“It’s nice…” You finally managed to say.

“Is that all?” He asked, moving his hand further up and brushing his fingers against the apex of your thighs. “You seemed to be so interested in it, but it’s just ‘fine’?”

You cleared your throat, hoping it would reset your thoughts; but your brain was stuck in a constant feedback loop that refused to get over what Lucifer was doing to you. “It… it’s got good parts.”

Lucifer smirked, nodding at your answer and continuing his questions as if his hands weren’t teasing you. “Tell me more.” He encouraged, slipping his hand past the waistband of your shorts to rub your labia. “I’m interested in your thoughts.”

“I uh.. W-well.” You stuttered, swallowing hard and looking at him pleadingly. You were still sore but the way he was so soft with his touches did things to your libido and your heart. “Well, it fits the mood for the season…” You started, touching on the most basic things to get your mind in the right state.

“Yes, I did tell you these were proposals for the holiday season. It’s obvious it would fit the mood.” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear and his teeth nipped at your earlobe. “Come on now, your analysis for all the others was so thorough, what happened?” he drawled, smiling wickedly, knowing exactly what was making your brain stutter. His fingers parted your lips in turn making you unconsciously spread your legs for him to get easier access.

You bit your lip, using the pain to ground your focus to the task at hand. “Well, the year has been rather rough financially for a lot of people.” You said through gritted teeth. “Showing how they’re able to… ah--” Whatever you were about to say flew right out of your mind when his finger brushed against your clit. You gasped, your whole nether region was still so sore from the last time, but your body was quickly craving more; and the only way to get that was to work. “We’re able to show people that they can… they can afford to celebrate on a budget… Ah… Lucifer…” you whined, rolling your hips up and gasping at how stiff all your muscles were. The sudden jolt of pain keeping you from reacting the way you wanted to.

He hushed you, kissing your jaw and teased your nether lips further with his fingers, running them up and down your slit which was quickly becoming wet from his ministrations. You whimpered, hating how you were being forced to sit still due to your own body’s limits.

“Yes, I’m listening still.” He replied nonchalantly, trailing his kisses down your neck and nipping the skin there with his teeth. “I’m concerned about the budget they’ve set for this ad… your thoughts on that?”

You gulped, amazed that he was still asking questions about the damn ad as if his fingers weren’t coated with your essence at that very moment. You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but not doing a very good job at it. “We-well… initial calculations say that it’s not something that can be done right no--- ahh…” You gasped in pleasure when you felt firm pressure on your clit, his finger rubbed circles around it and made you see stars. “Right now… b-but if we reallocate funds from the IT department that submitted their final budget for the year and th...they have a surplus, we can manage….”

“Oh? That’s very good news then…” Lucifer smiled, loving the way you struggled to keep yourself composed while he unraveled you bit by bit with his fingers. Tentatively, he probed your entrance, wondering how well you had healed over the week. When you yelped in pain, instinctively closing your legs against that touch, he stopped immediately. “This was my favorite out of all the ones submitted, I’m glad that you approve of it as well.”

Lucifer went back to teasing your folds, making you forget about the pain and put your body back into the relaxed, aroused state it had been in before. Now that he knew your limits, he was free to skirt them right at the edge, teasing you until you squirmed with pleasure. “I’ll let Marketing know the good news over the weekend so they can start the project as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure they’ll be very happy about that.”

“Indeed they will be. Final thing, I just need you to sign off on these reports and I’ll be on my way home.” He said before dropping a sizable stack of papers in front of you. “I need them right away so I can submit them over the weekend and get underwriting to process them first thing next week.” He explained. His touches slowed to a halt and you felt the fog of pleasure lift a little. Now though, you ached for his continued caresses and you whined loudly when he pulled his hand out from under the sheets.

“Do as you’re told and you’ll be rewarded accordingly.” He stated firmly, all the while making the most lewd show of licking his fingers coated in your slick.

Never in your life had you started reading boring documents so quickly. You were skimming words, processing them, but just barely, all to get to what you were promised. Even if your body ached and screamed in protest, what Lucifer had teased you with was too tantalizing to pass up.

He smiled, planting a soft kiss at your temple before leaving your side. You startled, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wondering if he was leaving for the night. “I’ll be right back…” He reassured you with a self satisfied smirk.

You wondered what he meant by those words for a brief moment before his actions did all the explaining as he ducked his head under the sheets and nestled himself between your legs. You swallowed, parting your legs for him after he slid your shorts and panties off. You could feel his warm breath on your inner thighs, traveling higher and higher until the tip of his nose brushed against your pussy and you whined softly at the contact.

There was still an important task to be done and you had to see it through. All the while Lucifer happily lapped at your core. His hands firmly at your thighs to keep your legs parted for him. His tongue traced your slit slowly and you caught your breath with each pass he took. The words on the pages in front of you had no meaning, but you kept reading them anyway.

The lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your folds were muffled under the sheets, yet they were still loud enough to be the only sounds your ears picked up on. Your breathing came out in stuttered breaths as you turned the last page in a report and mindlessly signed your name. Closing the file and moving on to the next one, you felt Lucifer press the flat of his tongue all along your pussy, spreading your labia and just brushing past your abused hole. At that, you moaned loudly, your hips jerking at the contact and sending pain shooting across your sore muscles. However, when you felt the tip of his tongue circle your clit, the pain dissipated and all that was left was a delicious soreness which mingled with the pleasure.

It was so hard to focus on your work, his tongue worked you into a frenzy, leaving you shuddering and moaning his name. You came as soon as you finished signing off on the second report. There were three more to go in the stack and you wondered if you could cum once for every one that was left. It would be perfect motivation to keep working.

No matter how many times your body was being pushed to the point of overstimulation, you could never get used to it. The way every nerve in your body seemed to vibrate with every touch and made you twitch in pleasure always felt new; and you couldn’t get enough of that euphoria. You had never been made to work through that state, but it was a test of your willpower now, going through reports while Lucifer’s tongue worked you into orgasm over and over again.

You felt like it took hours to complete reading everything. However, when you glanced up at the clock, barely an hour had passed and you were a quivering mess in your own bed, your boss between your legs, lazily licking your essence off your thighs as you came one last time, signing the last report off. “I… All the reports are done…”

You hated how cold you felt when he unburrowed himself from under your sheets. You could see your essence glistening on his lips and his chin, his eyes glowing that deep red color that made your heart skip a beat. “Very good job.” He praised, picking everything up and gathering it into his arms. He kissed the top of your head, making you feel dizzy from his praise and the number of times you came from just having his mouth attached to your pussy for an hour. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He said, preparing to leave.

A small part of you was heartbroken he didn’t want to stay. “Yeah… I’ll see you Monday…” You said weakly, smiling wistfully at his retreating form.

A year to a human was no insignificant amount of time. As an immortal, this was the hardest concept for Lucifer to grasp. Yet, after having you around for a year, it felt natural for him to celebrate the time he had spent with you.

You expected work to be piled up when you got back to the office. However, with your absence and also the general hectic nature of the holidays approaching, you were swamped with work. Staying late to catch up and working yourself into an exhausted heap, there were nights where you simply fell asleep on one of the couches in the lounge area so you didn’t have to worry about losing time with your commute.

Even if Lucifer wanted you to slow down, the corporate world and human greed made it impossible. You weren’t the only one who worked to the bone. Even he had to pick up a fair amount of extra work to ensure the year ended smoothly. The last three months that year were a blur, you barely remembered who you talked to or what you did. All that mattered was making sure the company ran as smooth as possible.

So when the worst of it was all over and the department parties began, it felt as if the whole building got to sigh in relief now that the storm had passed. You were invited to a fair number of new year celebrations, both you and Lucifer’s schedules were filled with more parties than meetings. Seeing all the employees under his wing celebrate another successful year with him warmed your heart. It was a rare opportunity to see him interact with others and seeing him in such a joyous setting made your heart swell with pride.

With the last of the company parties out of the way, you were finally able to release the sigh of relief you had been holding for months. As soon as you returned to the office, it was as if a weight had been lifted and you were free to at least pretend the workload would lessen as the year rolled over. You were about to start packing your things up when you noticed a parcel on your desk. Curious, you opened it and it revealed a beautiful sparking black and red gown. You looked back at Lucifer who was leaning against his desk, watching you for your reaction. “You didn’t think I’d plan a celebration for the two of us now, did you?” He sauntered over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We count as our own department, right?”

“Of course… How could I forget.” You laughed, running your hand across the delicate fabric, marveling at how it shifted in the light.

“Go on, get dressed, I’ll get the rest of the preparations ready.”

You couldn’t have run into the bathroom any faster. Your legs quivered a little in excitement and you nearly tripped out of your work clothes before shimmying into the black and red number you had been gifted. You were surprised at how well it fit you. Like a glove, it hugged your every curve in the right way to accentuate it. The fabric shimmered with every movement, making it look like you were walking through smoke. It felt odd to be in such a lavish dress and have nothing else to match it.

You ran your fingers through your hair, rearranging it in a way you thought framed your face a little better to accentuate the dress. You wanted to touch up your makeup, but had neglected to bring any with you in your rush to get changed. You would have to make do with what you had. Turning this way and that, you took one last look in the mirror and accepted the fact that it was as good as it was going to get with what you had.

Stepping back out into the office space, you gasped at how quickly Lucifer had managed to transform it. There was a clear hint of magic in the air, there was no other way to explain the softly glowing orbs that illuminated the room in a warm light. They floated through the air, suspended by nothing and fueled by whatever magic Lucifer had put into them. A table for two had been set up in the time it took you to get dressed and what looked like a delightful meal awaited you. Even Lucifer had changed his usual black and grey work suit to something with a little more red in it to match you.

Once again, he was waiting for you while leaning on his desk. As soon as he saw you, he picked up a pair of champagne flutes which sat next to him on his desk. He walked over and offered you the drink, a soft smile on his face. “Courtesy of Barbatos.” He explained, gesturing at the plates of food on the table. “He felt bad about his first impressions with you and wanted to make up for it. So, lucky me, I get catering from the best chef I know for this party.”

You giggled slightly, taking a sip of the champagne. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you expect me to cook for you in the future as your assistant. I’ll have you know the extent of my cookery knowledge will be phoning Barbatos up and asking him to deliver something for you.” You joked.

Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, leading you over to the table and helping you get seated. “Oh no, I don’t expect that from you at all. But, I’ll take note of that in case I change my mind later.”

Truth be told, though the food presented was some of the best you had ever eaten, being in close company with Lucifer was even better. For once, conversation didn’t revolve around work, instead, he regaled you with tales of where he came from and all the troubles he had to get Diavolo out of. The chatter and the good food filled your heart and your soul; you didn’t think you would ever get to see this side of Lucifer, but you were eternally grateful for the chance to witness it.

“Ah, the last thing. You can’t end a good meal without dessert.” Lucifer got up and reached for a box on his desk. Coming back, he presented you with an array of chocolate coated strawberries. “Please, help yourself.” he encouraged, turning the box to you. “I have a bit of an allergy to them, so they’re all yours.”

You tentatively took one, feeling rather guilty that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to join you; however, with a little bit of coaxing, your worries were laid to rest and you happily bit into the fruit. Lucifer watched your expression of joy as you indulged in one of your favorite treats. The way you made such happy sounds when enjoying something had him entirely amused. All the while, a small, knowing smile played at his lips. “They’re not going anywhere. You can take your time.” He said when he noticed just how quickly you were devouring them.

In an attempt to pace you, he pulled the box away from your grasp, plucking one of the strawberries from it and offered it to you. He looked at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked up as he enticed you to lean in and take a bite.

You blushed, flustered that he would be feeding you dessert in this way. There was a distinct intimacy in how he delicately held the fruit out to you with one hand. His other hand cupped below it to catch anything that might fall. You obeyed after a moment of hesitation, leaning forward and taking it into your mouth. Somehow, just from having Lucifer present you dessert in such a way had dessert tasting so much sweeter to you.

You were halfway through the strawberries when you realized something felt off.The room felt warmer, the floating lights pulsed in a way that cast a halo around Lucifer, somehow making him look angelic to you. You thought it was because you were too tired after a whole week of festivities. It must have been past your normal bedtime and your body wanted to rest. At least, that’s what you thought was the case. But when he spoke again and his voice seemed to penetrate your whole body, sending shivers down your spine and pooling right to your core; you knew it had to be something else.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, getting up after he had finished feeding you what was left of the box of sweets. He held his hand out expectantly; with a little bit of magic, soft music filtered through the room and set the mood. While you struggled to comprehend what was happening to your body, you mindlessly followed his directions. All your nerves tingled, from the tips of your fingers to your scalp, everything seemed to vibrate with a heat and a need that built itself out of seemingly nowhere

The moment he placed his hand in your own and wrapped his arm around your waist, things started to click and your whole body heated up further at the realization. Your eyes blow wide open and your lips parted in a perpetual pant as he nonchalantly lead you in a slow dance, circling the empty area of the office to the beat of the soft music. You followed him in a haze, barely noticing your body move, a practical rag doll in his arms as he spun you around and watched your pupils get ever wider and the flush on your cheeks get ever deeper.

You were so hot and bothered in such a short period of time, it was absolutely overwhelming. Your hands shook in his, your mind barely able to comprehend the music as it was singularly focused on his warmth, his smell, his voice, his everything that was so close to you. You couldn’t look up at him, ashamed that with every dance step you shared, your essence flowing so freely from you was being smeared along your thighs and the back of your legs.

He knew what he had done, you could tell with the way the corner of his lip turned up. He was trying so hard to hide that self-satisfied smirk he always had on whenever you were right where he wanted you. You were so wet and ready for something other than the innocent game he was playing; but you knew better than to rush him. So you held onto your slipping control, pretending everything was alright when your body screamed to be used and not teased. That control disintegrated as you could smell your arousal while you dance; you knew there was no way he missed that smell either.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, his voice full of faux concern after the second time you circled the room. “You seem so out of it.”

“It’s just… It’s hot, Lucifer.” You said, clinging onto his lapels and leaning into him. With his arm no longer around your waist, you couldn’t seem to keep yourself upright. You could hear his heart beating as you pressed your face against his chest, steadying yourself. “It’s… I don’t know what happened, I’m just, so hot…” It was a lie, you knew exactly what happened, what those strawberries were laced with, but you couldn’t say it out loud, not when you were so affected by his sneaky little plan.

“Oh dear… Are you coming down with something?” He asked, gently guiding you to sit down where you stood. “Are you feeling ill? Are you hurt?”

Yes, you were hurt, your whole body ached in need and he was playing around like he didn’t have any idea what he had done to you. You whine, pulling the skirt of your dress up, a wave of cool air offering you a bit of relief on your heated body. “I hurt… right here.” You said, spreading your legs apart and giving him a clear view of the wet mess you had become in such a short time. “It’s hot… and I hurt…”

Your lips and throat felt dry, your whole body flushed and heated to a point where you wanted to tear off the fancy dress and just dunk yourself into a vat of ice water. You needed relief that only he could give you. Lucifer’s face of concern changed drastically the moment you revealed yourself to him and that sadistic smile you knew so well spread across his face.

“Oh now, that is a problem…” He murmured, pressing a finger against your soiled panties and rubbing his finger up and down to mold the fabric to your slit. “But… I would hate for you to leave the party so soon.” He drawled, putting on a dramatic pout. “I was so sure you would enjoy your time, is it not to your liking?” He pulled the skirt back down, earning a desperate whine from you; but you didn’t protest. There was a promise of satisfaction in the lilt of his voice and you were willing to go through the ends of the world at that point to get to it.

You crawled into his lap, rubbing your face against his crotch in a futile attempt to get him to the same playing field as you were. But, he was firm, preventing you from getting what you craved and helped you back up on your quivering feet. The music had stopped and the lights dimmed, giving you a sense of security. You leaned against him, tears starting to form as your desire became the only thing you could think about. You wanted him so badly. “What else do you have in mind for tonight?” You asked, your voice shaking and you looked up at him.

“Just some games....” He replied casually, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Just the brief contact along sent a massive wave of arousal through you and you saw stars for a moment. “Mainly, I want to see how long before the special ingredients in those strawberries really kick in.”

Your eyes went wide. If this wasn’t the brunt of the effects coursing through your body, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. There was no way it could get any more intense than this, yet the way he spoke hinted only at a high that you hadn’t felt before. He chuckled, burrowing his head at the crook of your neck, kissing your sensitive, heated skin and you were helpless to stop him. Your whole body spasmed in need as your nerves were caressed and teased. It lost feeling at the tip of your fingers and your arms fell limp to your sids as you were completely swept away from him.

He didn’t need to do anything more than grab one of your breasts, kneading it experimentally before your tender nipples sent enough pleasure signals through your body to have you cumming. Your knees gave out and you sank to the ground, gasping as you rode out the sudden climax. The edge of your vision blurred and your ears rang as you caught your breath. Looking up, you saw Lucifer with that stupid smirk on his face, his eyes glittering and a noticeable bulge growing in his pants. You reached up to nuzzle it, burrow your head against the thing you crave and took in his musk. “Please… I need you…” You begged. “I need you right now…”

Those were the words he had been waiting to hear from you. Just the sound of your pleas were music to his ears and did more for his libido than you could ever imagine. He brought you back up on your feet, kissing you deeply and swallowing all the delightfully lewd moans that came from your throat. His hand laced into your hair at the back of your head kept you right where he wanted as he took the prize he had waited all day for. “Then you shall have me.” He said, licking his lips menacingly once he broke the kiss.

You were ready to sink to your hands and knees and let him use you as he saw fit. However, he brought you out of the office and into the elevator instead. You blinked in confusion until you saw him wave a black card over the scanner at the elevator, requesting for a floor that you never accessed before. It wasn’t until you stepped out that you realized he had brought you to the top most floor to his own abode.

There was no time to admire the great view that the floor to ceiling windows had of the city. You weren’t in the right mind to notice the collection of fine art or the practical furnishings that decorated his abode. All that mattered was the beeline the two of you made to his bedroom. Even if you wanted to take a second to soak in your surroundings, Lucifer gave you no time to do so, nearly throwing you into the massive bed in the room. You let out a little yelp of surprise when you hit the silky sheets; but that was quickly replaced with your need to feel his hands on your skin.

Now that he had you in his own space, in the privacy of his own home; Lucifer had the freedom to act as he wished. The first order of business was to help you out of that slinky number of yours. It had served its purpose and now he was ready to move onto looking at the most beautiful thing he possessed. He chuckled darkly, sliding the straps of the dress of your shoulders, turning you over just long enough to pull the zipper down to reveal your lacy underthings. As soon as the dress fell to the floor, it took no time at all for him to expose the rest of you by quickly removing your panties and bra.

Even if it took mere seconds to divest you of all your clothes, it felt like an eternity to you. The drag of the fabric across your skin made you shiver. His featherlight touches made you moan and when he finally pulled away to witness your nude form, the way he licked his lips made you shiver in anticipation.

Without clothes, the heat of your body was more bearable; however, it did nothing to quell your pussy’s need to be stuffed full with his cock. Spreading yourself wide once again, you beckoned him to take what you knew he wanted. This time, he was more than happy to oblige to your request. His clothes seemed to evaporate off of him; likely a result of some magic, but you didn’t care to discuss the details on how he removed his clothes. What you cared about the feeling of his weight above your own and the fullness you felt whenever he entered you.

Your hips levitated off the bed as soon as the tip of his cock started to tease at your folds. “Please, don’t play with me like this, Sir.” you cried, clutching onto the sheets below you as he made slow passes up and down your slit. He chuckled darkly, pushing you just a little further before he finally, gratefully put the tip of his cock into you.

Just at that, you could feel your inner walls clenching around him at your entrance, wanting to draw him in further into you. With how busy you had been with work and how much time he had given you to recover since being impaled by Diavolo and himself, it had been an eternity and a half since you last felt him fill your needy hole with his dick. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you hungrily took every inch of him. He was so terrible, taking his time to make the first pass in you; but it was the most fulfilling experience when he was fully seated inside of you. Your body molded itself around him, clinging to him for dear life as you rutted against his hips, begging for stimulation.

He didn’t want to torture you any further, after seeing your sweet face scrunch of up pure pleasure once he fully sank himself into you. Now, what he wanted was for your body to memorize just how good he could make it feel; and that meant fucking you right into his bed. The pace he set was just enough to bring you to the precipice of an orgasm with a few thrusts. “I know you want to cum…” He growled into your ear. “Feel free to do as many times as you want tonight.”

As soon as the permission was given, you spasmed around his cock still thrusting into you. You screamed his name, the sounds of sex and your moans filling the room as he picked up the pace and slammed his hips into you harder as you climaxed. Fucking you while your inner walls fluttered in orgasm never failed to bring him close to the edge and he was losing himself as well to the throes of pleasure.

You counted maybe two or three more orgasms before his own hips stuttered and his pace became erratic, his own release coming soon. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer to you until his own hips stilled and he spilled his seed into you.

The brunt of what was in the strawberries finally hit you and the need that roiled in your blood intensified, making you keen and milk him hungrily. He pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of your hole before taking a finger and slowly working it back into you. The sex was already mindblowing and your body was telling you that it was getting tired of being so overstimulated; but, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more and you pulled him in for a searing hot kiss full of tongue and teeth. “I want all of you. Give me that demon cock of yours. Fill me.” You demanded in between kisses. “Please, I need it…”

You heard him chuckle darkly before he agreed to your request. There was a fluttering sound and you saw black feathers in your peripheral vision as he shifted into his demon form. You smiled lazily, admiring how beautiful he was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You hadn’t seen this side of him since the first time. Even if you knew what to expect the second time around, it was just as awe inspiring as the first. You knew what was to come now and you eagerly awaited his next move.

“Hands and knees.” He growled and you scrambled to follow his orders. Your knees quaked a bit as you got into position. You could feel the bed dip from his weight as he joined you in it, lining the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt. With one smooth motion, he was buried in you right up to the top of his knot. “Yes... “ He hissed, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you up to be flush up against his chest while he set a brutal pace. “Yes..”

You were in heaven, your body feeling nothing but euphoria as it conformed to every ridge and vein of his cock that worked in and out of you. You came only after a few thrusts, but you knew it was far from over. Lucifer’s thick girth and massive length working in and out of your dripping pussy would push you right to the edge of pure bliss and you couldn’t wait to chase that feeling with him.

His free hand snaked around your waist to rub your clit, sending you keening and again into another orgasm. His sharp fangs raked the soft skin of your neck, leaving welts and marks that would last for days. The pain only added to the experience and you rode out yet another high around his cock.

“All of me.” He growled, slowing his thrusts to start pushing his knot into you. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling the familiar stretch at your entrance. It was blindingly blissful, being penetrated so deeply by his cock and then to be stretched to your limits with his knot. There was no other feeling like it and even without the aphrodisiacs coursing through you, you knew it was the best sex you would ever have. You breathed slowly, feeling every inch of his knot enter you, your eyelids fluttering as you could only imagine what it looked like right now as your pussy engulfed him.

He groaned when the tie was complete, your core accepting every last bit of him and now, his true pleasure began. He pushed you back onto the bed, letting you brace yourself on your elbows while his hands went to your waist to keep you steady. He rutted into you, rocking back and forth and groaning every time he felt your walls clench around him. You could tell he was close and with one last possessive growl, he pushed himself as deeply as he could into you, releasing his load. The warmth of his seed filling you doing its job as it brought you to one last climax before you felt your arms give way and you collapsed from exhaustion.

Lucifer gently maneuvered you to lay on your side so he could join you in the bed with his knot still fully embedded in you. He could still feel his balls twitching, releasing his cum in spurts inside of you as he nestled you into the crook of his arms and protectively wrapped his wings around your form.

“Congratulations on making it through a year here.” He praised, stroking your hair and lulling you into sleep.

“Of course, I expect to be with you for many years to come.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head as you dozed off into slumber. “Stay for the night… It’s too late to get you home by now.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You said, clenching yourself around his cock and he chuckled at your response.

“This is very true.” He said, still petting you methodically and watching you fall asleep.

He waited patiently for you to start softly snoring before he allowed himself the privilege of resting as well. His knot was still hard and firmly entrenched in you and it would likely stay that way for a few more hours. He watched your body slowly rise and fall in slumber and listened to you mumble in your sleep while he let himself soak in the soft moment.

“I love you, Lucifer…” You mumbled in your sleep, shifting a little and clinging onto the arm he had thrown across you.

“I know.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, fully satisfied with the result of a long years’ worth of training. “I love you, too.”

Caring for humans was still a foreign concept to Lucifer; but, he could make an exception for you.

Fin

Taglist: @ptv-hades @bluelipsblueveins-blue @utopiamiroh @vanillaicebaby @taehyungtrasholiviahaneul99 @weebartistinc

#Obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x oc #obey me smut #wow this took two days to write #almost not sorry #I saw you anon #I just didn't want to spoil what I already had planned a week ago lmfao #enjoy the end of this smut #i hope y'all liked the wild ride #my writing

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wallgirl · 3 years ago

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The Little Nereid Part 14

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Slight body horror in this chapter

—

When Dynamene's eyes opened again, she was underwater, drifting a hundred feet above a vast ocean trench. It stretched as far as she could see in either direction, jagged cliffs reaching up at her with treacherous fingers. It was a stark contrast from the glamorous palace she'd just been in.

This must be the trench where the witch lives. Dynamene turned this way and that, but saw no one else around; only an eel that slithered past in a hurried manner. Aphrodite said she lived in the deepest part, so... I guess I'm going down there. She wasn't crazy at the prospect of going into a deep sea trench, but there was no turning back now. She allowed herself to sink down, down, down into the black shadows. Deep sea fish wiggled by, some staring at her in surprise. Most of her sisters weren't fond of the deep ocean, but Dynamene stared back at them, just as curious. She remembered when she'd asked Poseidon to take her to a place like this someday. That time will come soon, she promised herself, lips setting into a line of determination.

When she finally touched the bottom, she could barely see anything around her. The silt beneath her feet was far colder and slimier than that of the shallow depths, and she shuddered. She walked for a little ways, wondering where to go next, until she made out the faintest pinprick of light in the distance.

She pushed off from the ground and swam towards it. The source of light was an enchanted torch, the first of a long row that led towards a cliff face in the near distance. Dynamene followed the trail to the stone wall, where an underwater cavern awaited her. An ancient sign, covered in rust and barnacles, simply read "Welcome." Reassured that she was in the right place, she hurried into the cavern and followed the tunnel directly up.

Suddenly, she broke the water's surface, gasping in surprise. She had surfaced in a dimly-lit underground cave, kept dry from an air pocket. She pushed her damp hair out of her eyes, looking around in surprise. She pulled herself up out of the water onto a shallow out-jut of rock, catching her breath, when she realized there was someone standing just a dozen feet away.

Staring back at her with interest was the strangest creature she'd ever seen.

It was a woman, skin as white as the pearls that hung in thin strands about her neck and down across her chest. Her body was wrapped loosely from neck to toe in dark, mismatched sheets, with webbed feet devoid of toenails peeking out from underneath the makeshift skirt. Her eyes had no discernible pupil or iris; they were just as pale and empty as the rest of her body, shining damply in the light of the candlestick she held. A drooping hood covered her head, but there was one spot where hair had come loose, resting against her cheekbone. Dynamene looked closer, wondering at her hair color, before recoiling mentally. It was not hair, but some sort of fleshy tendril.

On edge from the woman's peculiar appearance, Dynamene slowly rose to her feet. "Are you... Are you the witch?" Dynamene asked hesitantly.

The woman blinked. Her milky eyes stared at the Nereid unabashedly. "Yes, I am," she answered softly, her voice raspy and lilting. "And you are..." She swayed closer. "Mm. A Nereid." She began to smile, her teeth unnaturally small and spaced out.

Dynamene suppressed a shudder. What was this woman? She almost looked like she was part fish, but she couldn't place her as any species that she recognized. Definitely not a nymph. But she supposed it really wasn't any of her business; she had come to make a deal. "I was told you might be able to help me with magic," she said.

"Indeed I can," the witch replied cheerfully. "Why don't we sit down together, and you can tell me what it is you need." She turned to amble back into the depths of the cave, and Dynamene hesitantly followed suit, wringing the water from her chiton.

Hanging from the roof of the cave was all sorts of plants and vines of every color and shape, some with tied ingredients dangling from them. Countless shelves and cabinets lined the walls, each one filled with strange and exotic items that Dynamene couldn't place. She looked all about herself in awe. "Are those all ingredients?" She recoiled at the sight of what seemed to be several whale eyes in various stages of decomposition.

"Yes. My work demands quite the vast range of materials. It's taken me a few centuries to collect all that you see here. Rest assured, all these ingredients mean that there is no spell or potion I can't perform." The witch had led her to a small table that looked as if it was a once-thick stalagmite that had been broken off. Dynamene lowered herself carefully onto one of two thoroughly rusted stools. She made a silent prayer that the stool wouldn't collapse under her limited weight.

"Now, what I can do for you?" The witch set the candlestick down between them before folding her hands attentively.

Trying not to be unnerved by the witch's alien appearance, Dynamene focused her gaze on the rough surface of the table. "I... I need something to help me with love."

"Love?" Although it was a question, the witch didn't sound surprised at all. "Well, that's not an uncommon request for someone your age. Tell me more."

Dynamene squirmed bashfully. "Uh, you see..." There seemed to be no way to beat around the bush, as hard as it was to be direct about her feelings. "Well, like the rest of my sisters... As a Nereid, I serve Poseidon at his palace, and..."

The witch's face immediately lit up in the strangest way, like a starving shark that had smelled blood. Her small teeth reflected the candlelight damply. "Poseidon. Do you?"

"Yes. And... Well, somehow, some way... I have fallen in love with him." By the end of the sentence, Dynamene's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"In love with him," the witch echoed. "In love with him. Oh, my. My, my. What a predicament." Her gleeful smile didn't match her sympathetic tone at all.

Dynamene bit her lower lip nervously, a bit unnerved by the witch's strange behavior. "But, you see... things have become difficult. My family doesn't want me to be around him. They wouldn't even give it a chance. They think he's dangerous. And... I know he would never hurt me, but..."

"Oh, dear. Family... So loving and accepting, until they aren't." The witch tutted sympathetically. "Even our loved ones don't always understand our hearts. It's unfair of them to not give your love a chance... To not even hear you out."

"Yes! I know I could be happy with him, and..." Dynamene rubbed tears away from her eyes, only for them to be quickly replaced the next moment. "But they wouldn't listen. And now, I feel all alone."

"Don't you worry, darling," the witch whispered. "You're not alone. So many others find themselves in this predicament: misunderstood, shut-out, feeling desperate... That's where people like me come in to help. I can help you get exactly what you're looking for." She tilted her head, examining Dynamene. "So, tell me... what is it that you want my help with?"

Dynamene took a deep breath. "I want something that will... lead to him proposing to me, somehow." The look in her eyes went from hurt to almost fierce.

"A proposal. Well, well. That's a rather tall order." The witch flicked the tendril away from her face. "Wanting the hand of an Olympian... Poseidon, no less. My, my."

Dynamene shrunk against her seat, feeling rather uneasy. "Is that something you can help with?"

"Oh, sure," the witch said dismissively, waving her hand. "Don't you fret, darling. We'll get you your man. I just..." She licked her lips with a flash of her pale tongue. "Wasn't expecting this request today."

Dynamene nodded.

"So, tell me a bit more. I assure you, I won't judge. I've heard it all. You want him to make a commitment to you, sure... But what about after? Making it to the altar is only half the battle, you know."

"I... I have a guarantee that my union with him will be happy. I just need him to make me an offer. And then... Once we're united in marriage... Everything will be taken care of." Dynamene's cheeks began to burn.

"A guarantee? What might that be?" The witch cocked one brow.

"A blessing from Hera."

The witch's eyes nearly bulged out of her head in disbelief, making them look far too large for her face. "A blessing from Hera?! Well, you lucky girl. Those come few and far between." She sighed, tapping her cheek. "I myself met Hera once, you know..."

Dynamene started in shock. "Did she give you a blessing, too?" She asked, curiosity piqued.

"What? No!" The witch gave a harsh, barking laugh. "I had an agreement with her, you see... It fell through. And, you know, her temper and all..." She scratched her cheek with one pointed nail. A single droplet of gray blood oozed from the scratch, and Dynamene flinched at the casual violence of her act. "She cursed me to become this."

"Oh my," Dynamene whispered, the color draining from her face. She immediately felt awful for having judged the woman's appearance. "I'm so sorry, that's horrible of her!"

"That's an Olympian for you," the witch sighed. "But I've done well enough for myself since then. I've honed my craft, and this is how I spend my days now. Worse ways to live one's life." She smiled once more. "But let's bring things back to you now. You're my client, after all. Let's see..." She rose from the stool and crossed to a dusty boudoir covered in tomes.

"I have quite the list of spells for situations like this; just about anything you can think of." She picked up a book at random and flipped through it, dust flying off the pages. "But I'll need to know a little more to narrow things down. Tell me... What does he think of you?"

"Um..." Dynamene couldn't resist a shy grin. "I think he likes me well enough. He's given me presents, and we've had conversations... He's a lot softer on me than he could be when I've messed up." To put it lightly.

"Oh, lovely!" The gleeful tone had returned to the witch's voice. "So we don't have to worry about making the spell too strong; that's good news for you. A stronger spell would be all the more painful." The witch tossed the book to the side and grabbed another.

Painful? Dynamene gulped. "What do you mean by 'painful?'"

"We're going to do a mild transformation spell for you. Nothing too over-the-top, but spells like that always hurt a bit. I assure you, the end result will be well worth it. Poseidon is somewhat more susceptible to the influence of magic than the rest of his ilk because he thinks it's beneath him. Thus, he's never bothered to work on his resistance to it. You'll just need something strong enough to push him over that edge and get him to realize that he just absolutely needs you at his side."

"Will that really happen?" Dynamene asked, breathless at the thought.

"Oh, yes." The witch turned back to her, her face filled with a wicked leer. "He already cares for you. This will be just the shove he needs to make it official. Such a lucky girl."

Dynamene exhaled deeply. It's finally going to happen... We'll be together.

The witch cackled at the look on her face. "Oh, isn't it grand? You'll be happy, and he'll be happy... Dreams really do come true, don't they?" She threw her current book back down just like the first. "I've got it; the perfect spell. Let's begin." She waved her hand, and the candles lining the cavern immediately dimmed. "Come, this way."

Further into the cave was a larger room. At the center of it, partially sunk into the rocky ground, was a vast cauldron, many times the size of a bathtub. Dynamene peered into it cautiously; there was seemingly no bottom to it, only a vast blackness that stared back at her forebodingly. Swallowing, she backed away and returned her gaze to the witch.

The witch rolled back her sleeves deftly and cleared her throat. With a swift wave of both arms, the cauldron slowly gurgled to life. The dim candles brightened once more, but their flames had turned blue. The witch grabbed one from a nearby candelabra and threw it with force into the simmering cauldron. There was a muffled boom from within its depths, and the water began to shimmer an eye-wateringly intense blue. Sparks began to jump from the surface of the water, and Dynamene's eyes grew wide at the sight. The witch turned away and swept over to a nearby shelf, grabbing several tall glass vials before halting.

"Oh, that's right! Before we go too far..." The witch turned to look at Dynamene over her shoulder. "Ah, yes; a deal has to go both ways."

Dynamene twisted her hands, steeling herself. She had been dreading this moment, but there was no turning back now. "What kind of deal?"

The witch slipped closer, backlit by the eerie cerulean light. "Nothing you can't pay. That is, nothing you don't already have..."

Dynamene stared into the cauldron, blue sparks illuminating her face in a ghostly hue. The tear trails that remained on her face were sapphire beads in the light. If this was the only way, so be it. She was far too close now to give up.

"Then... Anything you want. It's yours," she told the witch, her voice shaking. "As long as... As long as it's nothing-"

The witch's smile broadened. "I'm not asking for much. You'll never notice it's gone, I promise you. Say, something..." She rose a fist. "This big."

"Anything," Dynamene whispered. The flames flooded out any other reflection in her eyes. The roaring cauldron filled her ears with its torrent, and with her senses distracted and heart despairing, there was nothing she wouldn't have agreed to. "It's yours."

The witch laughed madly. "Then we have a deal. Oh, your happiness is in reach now. Can't you feel it?" She snapped her fingers, and a sudden, strange lightness came over Dynamene. But she was still alive; still breathing erratically, and still staring into the burning flames. She flexed her fingers gently, wondering only superficially what the witch might have taken. "Now, you will soon take your fate into your hands. You'll be a new woman. No man alive will be able to resist you; least of all that inexperienced tyrant." The witch nearly bent double with laughter, wheezing with delight.

Without further ado, she shrieked out an unfamiliar word. All around them, the cabinets and cases flung their doors open in a unified crash. The witch rushed about the room, sweeping seemingly random ingredients into her clutches and flinging them without a glance. Bottle after bottle smashed into the cauldron, and Dynamene recoiled away from the shards of glass and burning hot sparks. The contents of the bottles hissed into oblivion in the burning waters, billowing out a thick smoke.

"Mandrake, rue, Gorgon scales, pearls!" The witch chanted madly as she snatched more ingredients. "Rosemary, harpy feather, siren hair!" The flames roared, reaching for Dynamene with raging lashes.

"Don't shrink away now!" The woman laughed at the fright on Dynamene's face. "This is what you came for! Embrace it, breathe it in!" She threw her arms high up into the air, commanding the inferno in a tongue unfamiliar to Dynamene.

Dynamene backed away from the cauldron a few feet, readying herself. Her hungry eyes filled with the dancing fire. The hypnotic flames were his eyes, the smoke his reaching hands, searing into her core until she was nothing but blue smoke, reaching back. You'll finally want me.

You'll be mine.

"Don't hesitate! Don't blink!" The witch threw more herbs into the flames, until they reached higher than Dynamene. "This is what you want! Take it!" Her voice rose to a screech. "Don't you want him to be yours?! Go, now!"

And without another breath, Dynamene took a running start and dove headfirst into the flames.

—

Author’s Notes: At the end of this chapter, all I was thinking was BlUe this and bLuE that. Can you tell? lol

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon x oc #shuumatsu no walkure #fanfiction

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lumini-317 · 4 years ago

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Okay, my first time posting any type of fic to be seen by the public. I have no idea if my writing is any good or not but I do enjoy it as a past-time so if anybody else enjoys reading it then that’s good enough for me. Also, this fic just sort of starts and ends abruptly, so I apologize. I’m bad at making longer fics, I just end up losing interest and it’s such as waste of (my idea of) a good prompt. Plus I spend so much time writing them only to just stop and leave it at a random spot. It’s very frustrating. So I decided to just make short-ish ones, at least for now.

Title: None

Characters: My OCs; Felix, Cameron, Parker, and Kyle.

Tags: Whump, hybrids, hybrid whump, mentions of blood, airsoft gun injuries, violence against hybrids? Is that a good tag? I have no idea.

Notes: I don’t really have many details about the make-believe world this takes place in. The hybrids are pretty stereotypical, humanoids with animal features such as cat/dog ears, antlers/horns, fangs, and tails. They’re mostly put on the same level as animals such as deer, horses, dogs, cats, etc. Some can talk, others can’t. Some can shift into more animalistic forms, others can’t. Stuff like that. I might change some stuff and make a more detailed post about it in the future, and maybe write fics based on it. Maybe. Edited Note: I forgot to mention that I decided that it would be cool if every type of hybrid had its own species name. I used a generator to come up with some like Lasera = Wolf, Duano = Deer, Komo = Mix, etc.

I hope you enjoy!

-Start-

Cameron and Parker jumped out of the jeep as soon as it had come to a stop. “What happened?” The older of the two panted as he ran up to Kyle, Parker hot on his heels.

“Some brats started shooting at Felix with their airsoft guns while I was checking his water,” Kyle recalled hastily. “He panicked and ran into the wire fence and got his antlers stuck. I scared the brats off but you need to hurry, Felix is gonna seriously hurt himself with the way he was struggling. He’s on the south side.”

Cameron nodded curtly and collected some supplies before entering the enclosure, waving for Parker to follow.

They reached the hybrid within a few minutes. The poor thing had tired himself out struggling. His shirt was damp with sweat and his quick raspy breaths could be heard yards away; he looked like he would fall over the second he came loose.

“Poor guy’s exhausted,” Cameron spoke sympathetically. “Even after we get him loose, we’ll have to keep a close eye on him. That kind of stress could kill a hybrid.”

Parker hummed in agreement. “That’s gonna be a lot of work,” he murmured, eyeing the wire that had become severely entangled in the hybrid’s antlers.

“Let’s just be careful.”

With that, they slowly approached the Komo, who was facing away from them and didn’t acknowledge them; though Cameron knew he was aware of their presence.

“Hey, Felix,” Cameron called when he saw the hybrid’s eyes were trained on him. “We’re going to help you, alright?” The hybrid only growled a warning and pinned his ears back in reply.

They got closer, and at first it seemed as if Felix was simply too exhausted to try and fight them.

That was, of course, until Cameron reached his hand out to grab onto an antler. The Komo flipped out, once again kicking and pulling against the fence with great desperation.

“Woah, boy!” Cameron yelped and jumped back in surprise. “Stay back, Parker! Watch his arms and legs.”

The younger handler listened and took a few steps back, concern written all over his face. “Can’t you tranq him? He’s going to hurt himself!”

“I used the last I had on hand on a sick Lasera just before I came over here. We don’t have enough time to get more.” Cameron was starting to feel a bit panicked, as well. But he stayed focused and went through his options.

After a few seconds, a plan came to his mind. It was risky but it was all they had. He reached into his supply bag and found a blindfold and some rope. Just what he needed.

He handed the blindfold to a confused-looking Parker and kept the rope for himself.

“What-“

“Once he runs out of steam again, go up behind him and tie that over his eyes,” Cameron ordered simply, untangling the rope. “Then, I’ll come in with the rope, tie him up, and then we should be able to help him without getting killed.”

Parker nodded obediently.

“Once we get him out of the fence, we’ll need to hold him down on the ground to get the rest of the wire out and look for any serious injuries,” Cameron finished explaining the plan a few moments before Felix exhausted himself again. The hybrid’s bangs stuck to his forehead and sweat was dripping off of his nose and chin; his breathing was on the verge of being hyperventilation.

Seeing this, the older boy was worried that he would die if they didn’t hurry up. The concerns became even greater when Felix’ legs momentarily gave out. The Komo nearly hung himself before quickly and clumsily getting back on his feet again.

Cameron prepared to leap into action, “Get ready, Parker.” Parker nodded and got into place, waiting for the signal. It came in the form of a short, “Go!” and he rushed forward, wrapping the material around the hybrid’s head and covering his eyes. Felix panicked for a second, kicking out and nearly hitting Parker before freezing up.

Cameron came up beside them and carefully wrapped a loop around Felix’ right hand, moving it over Parker’s head and then doing the same with the left. He pulled the rope which brought the hybrid’s hands together behind his back.

Felix didn’t put up too much of a fight, he just pulled on it a little and whimpered.

“It’s okay, Lix,” Cameron assured softly. That’s when the hybrid’s legs gave out, and he made no move to get back up again. It caused his neck to bend in an angle that put pressure on his windpipe. “Felix! Shit. Shit! Hurry and hold him up so I can cut the wire.”

Cameron was never more grateful that Felix wasn’t full grown, and wouldn’t even reach the size that most hybrids did as adults. It meant that it was relatively easy for Parker to hold him up as the older boy cut the wire surrounding the antlers.

He made the final cut and grabbed onto Felix’ antlers before telling Parker, “Okay. Let him down.”

They slowly lowered him to the ground and onto his back. Cameron loosened the ropes around his hands so that they rested by his sides instead of being smashed under his back. “I’ll check him over. Hold onto his antlers, just to be safe,” he told the younger handler, who did as he was told.

The first thing Cameron did was check the Komo’s pulse. It was unsurprisingly too fast, and putting his ear to Felix’ chest told him the same about his breathing.

Then he lifted Felix’ shirt, and cursed under his breath at the sight of multiple ugly welts littering his chest and stomach.

“What is it?” Parker asked worriedly.

“Those bastards actually hit him. They weren’t even just trying to scare him, they actually hit him.” Cameron was seething. The second they were done treating Felix, he was going to go and demand that better security measures be taken to protect the hybrids from scum like that.

He pulled out some medical cream from his bag and started liberally applying it, a terrifying scenario playing out in the back of his mind as he went from one welt to another.

What if it had been real bullets? What if Kyle didn’t see it happen and didn’t find him until tonight? He would’ve probably been dead by then.

He shook his head to rid it of those thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

Soon, he was done with the front, so he and Parker worked together to flip him onto his stomach and Cameron worked on the welts on his back.

When he was done with that, and they had flipped Felix onto his back again, Cameron returned his attention to the wire still wrapped in the Komo’s antlers.

Felix’ breathing had slowed down, leading Cameron to believe that he was unconscious. He certainly wouldn’t be calming down if he was aware of the hands on his body. But, as luck would have it, that’s when the hybrid’s breathing hitched, before speeding up yet again. He whimpered and struggled to free his hand.

“I guess he’s awake,” Parker said, holding on tighter to Felix’ antlers in case he started trying to move around more.

“It’s okay, Felix. I’ll finish this as quick as I can,” Cameron grunted as he cut the first wire with a “Clip”.

The hybrid flinched every time he heard the sound of the clippers cutting through the wire, but other than that and the occasional whimper, he didn’t struggle against them. The older boy was grateful for that, though he was worried about it as well. It only meant Felix was just too tired to fight back.

He did his best to speed up the process without endangering his own fingers and clipped the last wire a few minutes later. He pulled the mess off and tossed it to the side and began inspecting the antlers and the top of the hybrid’s head. Felix yelped when he ran his finger around the base of the antler and he pulled his hand back to find a little blood. It wasn’t much, and definitely not life threatening, but he still needed to add some cream to maybe give him some relief.

“He okay?” Parker asked, loosening his grip on the antler that was bleeding.

“Yeah, probably just a little sore,” Cameron answered as he applied the cream. “It’s not as bad as when he sheds and grows them back. That’s hell for him. Poor guy.” He gave a sympathetic pat to the hybrid’s shoulder, being mindful of the welts. Then he got up and got a hold of the blindfold off, “Alright, he’s good, let him go. Run back as soon as he’s free.”

Parker let Felix’ antlers go and ran a few feet away. Cameron quickly pulled the blindfold off of the hybrid’s eyes before running over to join the handler-in-training.

At first, Felix didn’t move, he just laid there and blinked. Cameron was beginning to worry again until the Komo finally got up to his feet. He stood there for a second—his legs shaking slightly, looked at his rescuers, and began walking to the tree line. A little ways there, he started running. It was slow, clumsy, and he stumbled a few times, but a weight was lifted off Cameron’s shoulders. Felix was gonna be okay.

He went over and picked up the supply bag and the wire he had cut off of Felix’ antlers. He gave the wire to Parker and threw his arm over the younger’s shoulder, “How was that for your first encounter with Felix?”

“Exciting, to say the least,” Parker sighed. “And tiring. Will he really be okay?”

Cameron nodded, “Yep, Felix is one of the toughest hybrids I’ve ever met. We’ll just need to check on him every so often, make sure that he’s not too scared to get food and water.”

“Why would someone even want to do that to a hybrid?”

Cameron shrugged, “Don’t ask me. I don’t find any fun in harassing innocent beings. Some people are just messed up.”

The younger of the two kicked a rock and hummed in agreement. “I’m just glad the hybrids here have people like you looking out for them.”

“I enjoy doing it, too. They deserve that protection. You’re really helping us out, too, ya know that?”

Parker ducked his head but Cameron could still see the hints of a blush. “Thanks, I- I love working with the hybrids,” he said shyly.

Cameron chuckled fondly and ruffled the boy’s hair.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Once they reached the gate, they met Kyle, and Cameron made sure to tell him to have the repair workers fix the fence, and that he would check on Felix himself every few hours so Kyle wouldn’t have to.

-End-

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