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captain-huggy-bear · 2 days ago

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Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nudity but in a totally non-sexual way (you share a bath)

Summary: You watch Clayton take a puck to the face, suffice to say you are very much worried for your boyfriend at the end of the game.

Notes: Y'know someone needs to psychoanalyse why I thought it was so hot that he took a puck to the face, got 12 stitches, came out, played and still scored? Someone want to explain that one to me?

I've not written Clayton before but @wannabehockeygf has me hooked so...I hope this is okay?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"...that one up high caught Keller, let's hope Clayton is okay...he took that one right up in the face and he's headed to the room for some stitches I would imagine..."

"Keller's girlfriend has stood straight up from her seat, clearly not happy with what she's seen."

"Can you blame her? Keller's just taken a puck straight to the face and I imagine he's going to have more than a couple of stitches to fix that..."

It's an instinctive reaction really, to jump out of your seat at the way the puck soars into Clayton's face, the way he spins and falls to the ice. The blood that you can see pooling underneath his hand as he holds it tight to his eye and brow.

You've seen him get hurt before, seen him take hits to the boards, hits from other players, pucks to the ribs, sticks to the legs, but this...fuck, this was dangerous, this was scary. You're thankful for your seat overlooking the tunnel, thankful that you can reach a hand down as he makes his way off the ice, that even as he clutches a towel to his face to mop up the blood and try to stem the bleeding, he sees you, and reaches out briefly to touch your fingers, an attempt to reassure you that he's okay. That he'll be fine because fuck he knows you're probably freaking out about it.

Then all you can do is sit back down in your seat and wait. Waiting for him to come back out made you feel sick, stomach tied in knots, leg bouncing up and down in anxious impatience. Was he concussed? Was he in need of hospital? Or would it just be a few stitches to stop the bleeding? Had it done any serious damage to his skull? Was he actually okay? Was it just a flesh wound or something deeper?

It was taking too long, far too long, your eyes not even on the game, but on the tunnel waiting for him to reappear, watching people come and go back and forth each one not Clayton. Still you waited for that reappearance.

And reappear he did. Brow coated in blood, 12 stitches holding his face together, swollen, bruising planning it's spots as he stops at your section, looking up at you from the tunnel as you look down.

Your hand reaches out again and this time he holds it properly, fingers intertwining with yours to give your palm a tight squeeze, his ring digging into your skin slightly from how firmly he grips you. Like he needs to reassure you he's still strong, still good even as a blood drip starts to slide from the fresh stitches towards his eye.

"I'm okay, sweet girl," His voice is rough from overuse on the ice and he doesn't linger long, but it's enough to reassure you that he's at least fine, even if his face looks like he's been through the wars.

It's enough for you in that moment, enough for you to let his hand go, to watch him make his way to the bench even as that sick feeling still permeates your gut.

You spend the entirety of the second period watching him like a hawk, assessing to see if he should actually be out on the ice or not, relieved to see him skating well, stable, sturdy. Despite the physical wound he doesn't seem unwell and that is enough to settle you down a little, enough for you to start to enjoy the third period.

An enjoyment that is made 10 times better by Clay's empty net goal firmly confirming Utah's victory over the Winnipeg Jets. The moment the period is over and the players have left the ice you don't waste much time before making your way down to the locker rooms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Clayton to clean up and change.

He's out last, Kess stops to tell you he's just getting some of his stitches redone, and while you appreciate the heads up from the taller man it actually only serves to make you more anxious to see your boyfriend.

When he walks out he looks like he's been through the wars or been mugged badly or had a bad boxing match. New stitches means no quick shower, no water on them for at least a day and he still looks bloody, sweaty and definitely not okay. You can't imagine how uncomfortable he was putting his suit back on when he couldn't even have a proper wash, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his skin. Clayton's always been a stickler for cleanliness and you know he probably feels disgusting, probably hates it almost as much as the injury itself.

"Shit, Clay..." You gasp at seeing his face up close, his eye is bruising into a proper shiner, closing a little from all the swelling that's happening. The skin around starting to go a deep purple. There's an array of angry stitches holding his skin together, 12 to be exact, lined up neatly but clearly the only thing stopping more blood from falling down his face. They've clearly tried to clean as much of the old blood up as possible, but there's still enough left over that he looks rough around the edges.

"Right in the money maker, huh? It's okay if you think I'm ugly now, baby.." He's joking around as he steps into your space, trying to take that god awful look off your face. You look like you've seen a ghost, like you might be sick.

"Clay..." You reach for him as he leans over you, one arm leaning against the wall by your head, while your own hands cup his cheeks tilting his head so you can get a better look at his stitches.

"Sorry, sorry, just tryin' to get my girl to smile s'all..."

"I know..." He lets you get your fill, moving his head in whatever direction you tilt it while his free hand grips your hip. He wants you to believe he's fine but he knows you won't believe him, and in truth it fucking hurts taking a puck to the face. He's surprised he doesn't have a concussion. He feels a little sick, very gross and his face aches like nothing else.

"Clay...What do you need?" You, he thinks, just this. Just the soft way your thumbs brush his cheeks and tenderness with which you cradle his face, like he's not 170lbs of hockey player. He's not delicate and he knows that, you know that, but sometimes you treat him that way and it's nice sometimes. Nice to feel cared for.

He doesn't say any of that though, instead lets out a big sigh, "I need to go home, wash at least my body because I actually feel fucking gross..." He's still sweaty and he knows he needs help washing his hair without getting water on his stitches.

"Okay, I'm driving." You're reaching for his keys in pocket as quick as a whip, but he's quicker. Clayton's hand wrapping entirely around your wrist and stopping it from delving further into his pocket.

"You're not driving my car, baby. No." There's no amount of injury that could bring him to let you drive when that's his job and the grin he gives you is the sort you give a child who thinks they know better. It makes your eyes narrow.

"Clay, you took a puck going like 80 miles per hour to the face..."

"And I can still drive, and you are still and forever my passenger princess." It's not that he doesn't trust you to drive. You're a pretty decent driver, but that's not the dynamic you have. He drives you around. Always. If he can't then you drive yourself, but if both of you are in a car together? He's driving and you get to sit, relax and look pretty.

"You're impossible." You roll your eyes but concede defeat, pulling your hand from his pocket even as he continues to grip your wrist like now that he's got it the thought of letting go is preposterous.

"Impossibly handsome." Clay's hand moves from your wrist to slip into your own, fingers twisting together as he pulls away from the wall with you. His other hand tossing his car keys about with a jingling sound.

"Impossible hard headed."

"Ouch, that hurts, sweet girl." He finally gets a smile from you at that and that's all he wants as the two of you walk hand in hand to his car. If he's got to deal with stitches, bruising, swelling, then at least he gets to see you smile.

"Did it hurt more than the puck you took to the face tonight?"

"You're determined to not let me forget this aren't you?" He asks as he opens the passenger side door, watching you slip into the pristine seats because he'd be damned if he ever let his car fall into disarray.

You're quiet for a few moments as he leans over you to pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it into place. It's the proximity of him to you that's probably the only reason he actually hears your next whispered words as you look at your hands in your lap.

"...I was really worried, Clay..."

Clayton sighs heavily, large hand cupping your cheek until you look at him. You grip his wrist, fingers playing with the array of bracelets he always has there.

"I know, baby, but I'm okay. I promise. Got some stitches, no concussion, I'll be a little ugly for a bit but..." All Clay ever wants is for you to be happy, the worst part about getting hurt is that he knows you're stressing about. He's fine, but he knows he looks like he's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and he'll probably look like that for awhile. He also knows you worry, and you'll worry over him until he looks completely back to normal.

"You could never be ugly," He smiles at the way you frown at him, like it's the worst thing he could do right now to insult himself, "You're just fishing for compliments." Your eyes soften under his smile and the frown loses some of its bite.

"You're the one biting, sweet girl."

"Shut up and drive us home."

"As you wish." Clayton presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling out of the passenger side and closing the door on you. He's quick to make his way round to the driver's side and even quicker to get the car started so he can start driving back to the house.

You watch him the whole time, eyes fliting from the stitches in his eyebrow to the way his left eye is swelling to the point you don't know if he'll be able to see out of it in a minute if you don't get ice on it. Clayton chooses to ignore the staring, hand reaching out to rest on your thigh, rubbing warm strokes across it as he drives, like always.

When you pull up you wait, like always, in your seat because Clay complains if he can't open the door for you and unbuckle your seatbelt. So you wait and let him do it, just as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulders and led you inside as if you're the one that needs the TLC and not him.

You only briefly watch him struggle out of the suit he'd worn to the game before stepping in to help. The medical team not letting him wash had meant his shirt and trousers stuck to him from all the sweat left on his skin, and the extra pair of hands was helpful as he shrugged off the button up he'd been wearing.

He lets you lead him into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat and watching as you fuss around the bath tub. You're running him a bath even though you know he prefers showers because there's no way those stitches are staying dry in the shower, not with his ridiculous need for the most intense waterfall shower on earth.

Still, Clayton watches as you try to make the bath more enticing. Copious amounts of bubble bath, the sort that's designed for sore muscles, being thrown in, water running warm, but not too hot because he doesn't like his bath water to be as hot as the fires of hell. Unlike you. But, he draws the line at you helping him into water, it's his face that hurts not his legs, shrugging your hands away with an eyeroll when you go to reach to help him.

"I can get in on my own, baby."

He doesn't let the fussing annoying him because he knows you fuss out of concern and that any amount of fussing is still your attention on him. Fussing means you love him and if you took a puck to the face he knows he'd be fussing over you too.

You watch as Clayton eases himself into the water, a sigh rippling out from him as he slides into the warmth. His chains hitting the water because he'd never wear anything that wasn't solid enough not to tarnish over time, expensive taste as always. You watch the way he closes his eyes and just relaxes for a minute, skin turning slightly flush under the warmth of the water, neck pulled taut as his head tips back.

"You want me to help wash your hair?"

"Please, baby." It's sighed out, eyes still closed and you kneel next to the tub without a second thought, urging him to move forward and lean back until his hair touches the water.

You're careful about it, slowly wetting his hair, trying to avoid getting water on his stitches and while he might not want to be fussed over, this though? This Clayton can't help but love. The way your fingers thread through his brunet strands, how you stop occasionally to scratch at his scalp, the feeling of sweat and grime falling away? This is pretty much heaven.

You huff a laugh when Clayton groans a little while you massage shampoo into his roots. The pressure you apply making him sigh and groan like you're relieving knots in his back and it's sweet, how he can relax into this, into you, when he's normally the one giving and doesn't necessarily prefer to receive the care.

"You good, Clay?"

"Mmmm...." He hums and you smile down at him, the way he leans back into your hands, how his eyes remain closed, the content little smile on his face that just slightly shows his teeth.

You take extra care as you rinse the shampoo from his hair thoroughly, avoiding his stitches and his eyes as you do so, before getting him to sit up a little so you can place some conditioner on the ends.

"Get in with me..." His eyes are heavy lidded, like he doesn't quite have the energy to open them the entire way, a wet hand reaching out to grip your fingers, tugging lightly.

"Clay, there's barely any room left." His legs take up half the tub, you're a little concerned that you plus water displacement will result in water all over the floor of the bathroom. Another injury waiting to happen when one of you inevitably slips on wet tile.

"Please, just want to hold you for a bit, no funny business, sweet girl, promise." His cheeky little smirk that shows the dimples on one side of his mouth doesn't exactly fill you with confidence in his words, but the water is still warm and there's something always enticing about Clay, he has a way of convincing you to do something even if you shouldn't.

"Mmm, sounds likely..."

"Seriously, just want to hold you...I'm an injured man..." He pulls the guilt trip card, biting on his bottom lip. Something which would have looked sexier if half his face wasn't swollen up like a balloon. Still, you've never been good at saying no to Clayton even if you probably should from time to time.

"Fine..." You sigh, pretending to be reluctant even as you strip your clothes off, ignoring the way his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, and step into the bath water with him.

It's a little tight, the water rising to levels that are mildly concerning before the overflow drain does the job of removing the excess water. Your legs twine with Clayton's and his arms slide around your waist until he can pull you comfortably back to lay against him, your back to his chest. It's funny, how you can be completely naked and feel completely comfortable like this with someone, every little touch is comforting rather than sexual, every kiss to your shoulder an attempt to be connect to you rather than start something intimate.

"Clay?" You wince out, the sensation of metal digging into your back causing you to squirm slightly in his lap, water sloshing nearer to the sides of the tub.

"Mmm...?"

"Can...can you move your chains? They're digging into my shoulder."

"Shit, sorry, baby." He's quick to do so, the chains being thrown over his shoulder and out of the way until settling against him is more comfortable, the rise and fall of his chest meeting your back in a rhythm that helps any residual anxiety from the events of the day melt away.

"You comfy, sweet girl?" He presses a kiss to your temple and you smile into it, humming as you lean as much of your weight back into him as you can.

"Yeah, you?"

"Mmm, might have to stay here..." He's tracing circles on you tummy, a series of circles that meet in a variety of patterns that remind you of crop circles from all those conspiracy theory and unsolved mystery shows Clay likes to watch when he can't sleep. Every few seconds a kiss lands somewhere else, whether your temple, your cheek, your neck or your shoulder. Each is quick and soft, but no less delightful. It's all so soft, the world feels like its humming a little.

"The water'll get cold."

"Good thing I run warm..." He tries to argue with you, like always, a sassy little remark to entice you to stay in the moment even if neither of you can.

"Clay, we're not staying in here all night, we'll die of pneumonia or something."

"Would be worth it." He grins into your shoulder, eyes relaxing when you reach a hand back to scratch his scalp and play with his hair. He's tired, so fucking tired and his face still aches like a bitch but this is nice, this so nice.

"We should really get some ice on your face, try and take some of the swelling down."

"Do we have to?" The idea of putting ice on his face right now is anything but appealing, but he knows you're right. His face is already pretty swollen and bruised and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't look after it.

"Do you want to be able to see from your left eye in the morning?"

"Good point, just...5 more minutes, baby?"

"5 more minutes." You let him have his 5 more minutes and then some, using the time to get clean yourself and rinse conditioner from his hair before the two of you stand from the bath after the water has cooled significantly.

He's sat crossed legged on the bed in a cosy hoodie and boxers by the time you've put together a makeshift icepack, ice piled up into a ratty old tea towel you got when you first moved out.

The look he gives the icepack is nothing short of disdainful, a glare that's combined with a pout of his top lip like the icepack has personally offended him already when it hasn't even touched him. If anyone should glare it's you because your hands are getting cold.

"The only way that is touching my face is if you're sat in my lap, sweet girl." He pats his thighs like its a given, like you'll just go over and plonk yourself down without question.

"You already agreed to ice your face, Clayton John Keller." Your hands find your hips, a stance Clayton calls your mom stance and it's extra apt when you're using his full name like that. Not that that deters him from his goal of having you wrapped up on his lap because that's the only thing that might make ice to the face semi-bearable.

"Only if you sit in my lap."

"That is not the original agreement."

"Yeah, well, trade talks, deals get renegotiated all the time." He shrugs with a smirk, pulling out the dimples because he knows you struggle to be stubborn when he does that and as much as you hate it...he's fucking charming and it works. You're sighing and stomping over like you're not totally endeared by him, letting him pull you up and onto his lap without any real protest until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your butt sat perfectly in the hollow created by him sitting crisscrossed.

"You are incredibly difficult to care for, Mr Keller." You grumble as you cup his face with one hand and raise the makeshift icepack to his eye with the other.

"Can you really deny an injured man small comforts like his girlfriend in his lap?" His smirk only widens until it doesn't, a hiss leaving his lips at the way it pulls on his stitches as his eyebrow moves.

"Mmm, you're ridiculous." You're smiling when you say it and that alone lets Clayton know that you're enjoying this as much as him.

He hisses again when the cold finally touches his skin, almost jerking back but your hand on his cheek stops him from going very far. The icepack is cold, so fucking cold, and he knows you're going to force it to stay there until you're satisfied that some of the swelling has gone down. You're cruel like that.

Clayton's hands fall to your hips, fingers clenching and gripping onto you, not painfully, but firmly enough that you know he hates this, hates the sensation of ice on his skin even if there's a tea towel in between.

You try to make it as bearable as possible, pressing kisses to the right side of his face even as the left faces the terrible ordeal of icing. The kisses have Clayton humming, hands stroking from your hips to your waist and back down again in a rhythmic motion that brings back memories of every make out session you've ever had with the man, and that you wouldn't be having until you were certain his face wasn't swollen and bruised.

When you finally pull the icepack away his face is less swollen, eye still partially closed, but no less bruised, you know the purple is going to eventually fade to a horrible yellow. You throw the damp tea towel into the laundry basket from where you're sat, excellent aim that has you letting out a little cheer that gets Clayton smiling up at you.

"Thank you, sweet girl, always taking care of me..." He presses a kiss to your lips, short and sweet, only because you refuse to let him stay there too long, determined to let the man rest.

"Yeah, well, you're always taking care of me too."

#clayton keller #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #huggy bear writes

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mickeys-been-staying-at-ians · 1 day ago

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So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

#i dont feel like writing the fic #but if i did id focus on #how melancholic everything is in the beginning #how sam is a good brother who knows how scared dean is of being bi mostly because of john #and how awkward and embarrassing dean is when he tries to stay awake to be with cas #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #suffering dean is my favorite dean sorry #but i know you're all the same

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minteagalaxea · 3 days ago

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blood . line (p. two) | jy.u

jey uso . part two

genre: smut (minors dni) . a modicum of plot content warnings: oral sex (male receiving) . unprotected sex (please use protection) . daddy kink . dirty talk . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . mild manhandling/strength kink . panty ripping (and keeping) word count: 2.52k inspiration: the concept of a glucose guardian/sucrose supplier . the accountants in the john wick series . the concept of friends with benefits . songs: do i wanna know by the arctic monkeys (slowed and reverb instrumental) (x) . love scene by baekhyun (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "hot . line" (x) notes: thank you again for everyone who has been supporting the first part! i hope you guys are able to enjoy this part, too! special shoutout (again) to @lov3rla03 and @spiicii for endorsing my insanity <3

she was starting to look forward to her weekly…meetings with jey. she really was.

the routine was simple: every friday, after she finished her work, handling everything she had to for her boss, she would go home, settle and get comfortable, call the bloodline, greet quynh, and then get redirected to have a hot and heavy conversation with jey for about an hour or so. and it wasn’t a routine she was too keen on deviating from, given that her entire work life revolved around schedules and rituals to keep her from losing it whenever changes happened.

hence why she took it strangely when after her call with jey, he asked her to stay on the line, and transferred her back to the main line, where she heard quynh’s steady contralto.

“quynh…what’s going on?” from what she had gathered, any interaction with quynh beyond their initial greeting wasn’t generally good. lex, who gave her the business card, did tell her some horror stories: quynh holding you after your session could be anything, and if you got redirected to roman of all people without requesting it, then it generally meant one was fucked.

fortunately for her, quynh wasn’t giving her a warning, at least not in the traditional sense. “so, it’s been a few sessions, and i trust they’ve been going well?”

“yeah, it has, thank you for asking.” she wasn’t sure about why she sounded so formal, though quynh took it as it came as they explained.

“anyways, i was hoping if you recalled our initial conversation, about in-person interactions.”

her breath hitched at the realization, humming an assent so that quynh could finish the sentiment with long-suffering affection, “this is a bit unprecedented for me, but jey has requested an in-person session with you.”

speechless. that was what jey reduced her to. and apparently, that’s what he reduced quynh to. okay, so she didn’t know quynh that well, but the fact that this was unprecedented was enough. and so, naturally, she accepted.

“excellent, sweetie. since these work a little differently than your usual sessions, you send the session payment as a sort of down payment. i’m sure you know that there’s a bit of an upcharge.”

as she worked through the payment process with quynh, she found herself excited for the upcoming week as she notated the details—the same time as her usual appointment, only this time with a high-end restaurant and luxury suite to match.

it didn’t take her too long to settle on an outfit when the appointment approached—a warm gold dress that hugged her just right and had her undertones glowing, and a smokey eyeshadow and dark nude lip to match the mood of the evening. she felt powerful, pretty, and perfectly excited as she took the taxi to the restaurant downtown, letting the waitress lead her to her table.

and then, naturally, her jaw dropped when she saw the man in front of her.

because there was no way that whatever higher beings decided to bless him with a voice of crushed sin also decided to give him the same blessings to his entire existence like he was some fucking sex god—or well, he probably was, given his line of work. the wolfish, cheerful grin, the messy charm of his hair, and his voice. holy fuck, his voice sounded even more heavenly and hellish now that there wasn’t a phone line separating them.

she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she shook his hand, admiring the casual outfit that did wonders to the tattoos she saw along his arms with the rolled-up sleeves and the texture of his beard when he went to kiss her hand, his lips warm against the cool sensation of her rings as they took their seats across from one another.

“so…thank you for taking me out,” she started, nervous as she took a sip of her water, “from what it sounded like, this normally doesn’t happen.”

jey responded, voice dripping with silk and poisoned honey, “i thought it would be nice to meet the woman who’s caught my attention these past few months.”

oh, how her skin flared in heat with that comment, internally loathing how she was progressively getting more delusional, falling for his words that may or may not be a reflection of reality. yet, she played along, “it is nice…getting to meet the man i’ve been calling ‘daddy’ for the past month and a half.”

if he noticed her nerves, he made no point to acknowledge it as he requested a bottle of champagne to celebrate after they placed their orders. upon the waiter’s departure, jey started questioning, “so, mamas, what do you do to afford phone calls and fancy dates with me?”

she laughed, his candor refreshing as she explained her career to him, working in her high-running career as a personal assistant to one of the most demanding bosses in the world (in her completely biased opinion). though, he did make an empathetic jest about her struggles as he quipped, “mamas, i work for and with my cousin. who’s also kinda my uncle.” she had never laughed harder as he jested, made her laugh over wine and deconstructed meals that she didn’t understand the premise of.

“waffle house might be more fun next time, mami. i think you’d like it if we went at the right time,” jey remarked casually, and she raised an eyebrow. it wasn’t inherently a bad suggestion, but perhaps, in her view, that it was even a suggestion in the first place.

“daddy, we haven’t even finished this evening and you’re already planning for another one?” she teased, voice incredulous as she tried to mask it with a sip of her champagne.

his response was as smooth as the pen she used to sign off on the receipt when the check came, “well, mamas, you make good company. and now that i’ve seen your beautiful face, i don’t wanna stop seeing it.”

oh fuck, if he kept saying shit like that, she wasn’t going to keep herself (or her body) in control. “daddy, you’re gonna make me delusional thinking you’re like this with just me,” she whispered as they both rose to their feet, his hand on her waist and heated like an iron brand as they strolled towards the fancy hotel a couple blocks away.

and just for him to nail the point home? jey had the actual audacity to whisper in the elevator on the way to the suite, “i am just like this with you, mamas. nobody else.”

her heart fluttered in her bones at the admission; by the time they entered the suite of the evening, she took the man by the shoulders, shoving him down on the bed to straddle his waist. perhaps with the same audacious nature that seems to waft off of the man like his delightful cologne, she inquired, “really? does that mean you’ve been coming every time we talk?”

jey didn’t have to even say anything to confirm her curiosities—the smolder, the firm grip to her derrière was confirmation in droves when he tangled his lips and tongue in a kiss so dizzying that it made her head swim in hues of gold and his scent. she could taste the champagne on his lips and the raspberry on his tongue from his cheesecake as her hips swiveled atop him.

licking off the string of saliva connected their parted lips, she moved down, kneeling on the ottoman at the end of the bed, unbuttoning his trousers and yanking his briefs down in one fell swoop. “shit,” she marvelled at his length, “this is so unfair.”

it was unfair, because this man had to be blessed with a dick as beautiful as he was, pretty and leaking and hard as steel at this point. she couldn’t stop herself from running her lips up and down his cock, whiny and needy as she started to suckle on the tip, wanting to make this excursion worth their while. and as she worked, tongue swirling around the tip and with gentle pressure around the shaft, she got to coax those sounds she became so attuned to over the phone in real life.

she was definitely correct in her thinking that he was going to sound so much more beautiful without technological obstruction. his groans sounded of concentrated lust and voracity, his hand holding her hair firm but not yanking as she attenuated to his cues: how his hips would buck when she ran her tongue along the underside just right, how his sounds grew more pronounced each instance she took him all the way down her willing maw, throat flexing at his girth.

it wasn’t difficult to get him to burst, even though he continuously warned her. however, she knew it was an empty threat of his, with how his lips wove words of absolute filth, about he was right. “knew you were gonna look so pretty on my dick, mami. so fucking good to daddy.”

the praise made her pussy so much wetter, propelling her to work harder to earn those sounds, his praise, because he was—quite literally—fulfilling her fantasies with him. and she nearly came on the spot when jey did, spilling his seed into her mouth with a fervent, heady grunt as he kept her nose brushing his navel, “take it all, mamas. make daddy proud.” she swallowed with pleading eyes, melting into his deep and warm gaze as she milked him for everything he had; subsequently, she let him swallow all of her sounds when he tugged her off of his shaft and slammed his lips onto hers when he deposited her back on his lap.

“shit, mamas, you’re so good to me, made me cum so hard,” he crooned against her swollen lips, one raking through her hair and cradling her close and the other already going down to hike up her dress and fucking yank her drenched panties off her frame. her gasp echoed in his ears, especially when he winked at her to shove them in his pocket before unzipping her dress, letting it pool at her hips before proper extrication. she could only gasp again when he lifted her up so effortlessly and deposited her on her back while he made haste to get all his clothes off, with the additional knowledge that her soaked panties now have a home in his pocket for perpetuity.

in the frantic, fervent pace of their fucking, jey offered a moment of respite, one desperately needed for them both to try and prolong their fun as he pressed his already-hardening length against her slick petals. she supposed there was a massive benefit of sleeping with a man with nearly no refractory period and all energy. “jey, daddy, you gotta fuck me, please,” her voice breathed into his mouth as he slicked himself with her wetness, “i’m clean, just put your dick in.” “i know, mamas—fuck, you’re so wet for me. all that from sucking my dick?” he teased, starting to nudge her opening with a finger, just to stretch her just so she could take him, though with how wet she was, she knew this would be easy.

her voice fell into gentle whines when he slipped in another finger, scissoring her walls, “it’s fine, i’m ready, i’ve been ready since forever.” and, she supposed, begging did give her everything, because when jey retracted his fingers from her heat, he brought them to his lips and licked her arousal off like it was the finest dessert on the planet—and to him, it was.

jey made that message clear as he slid that rock hard cock inside, sheathing himself into her receptive walls as he mused with no shortage of want, “shit, mamas, knew you were gonna look so pretty wrapped around my dick.” wrapped around him she did, hooking a leg over his shoulder as his cadence started deliberate, uncharacteristically slow in the grand scheme of how she’s always known him and his dirty talk.

“fuck, you’re in so deep,” she breathed, back arching into the hand he splayed there and the mouth he had on the junction of her neck to imprint marks and bruises onto for posterity. her hands latched into his hair, yanking and mussing up those soft strands with each powerful thrust of his, gasping with the perfect angle, the perfect amount of pressure from his mouth on her neck, the swipe of his tongue on her breasts when he ventured lower.

her cunt clenched around him with each of his strokes, her moans escalated into a wanton melody of his name, “daddy”, and begging in some combination, breathed against his lips when he swallowed her noises when he kissed her like he needed oxygen. it occurred whenever he ventured lower to deprive himself of said oxygen by burying himself in her chest and suckling and swirling that skilled tongue over her nipples until they prickled with sensitivity and perked with surrender.

“daddy, i’m so close,” she groaned hungrily, the recipient of his increasingly fervent thrusts and their sounds matching in passionate harmony as jey’s growls grew more guttural, becoming a symphony of carnal sex as he ramped up the filth in his words, “come inside.”

her walls clasped around him like a vice when he spewed out. “come for me, babygirl. you’re so fucking hot like this, gonna fill you up just right, mamas.” he punctuated each word with a stroke that felt like it was getting deeper and deeper inside of her, “gonna look so pretty gushing out my cream. so fucking tight ‘round me, gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you?”

jey was right, as he generally had been throughout the night, when he rubbed her neglected clit and got her to fucking scream in what was supposed to be a respectable hotel room, staking his claim about how damn well he was making her feel as she came, lips parted and body arched into a tapestry of luxury and avarice as her pussy clamped around his cock without any opportunity for movement. that, in turn, triggered his own release, spilling inside with that long groan she had memorized from all their weeks of phone sex. yet, hearing it in person, with no barrier, just did something to her, had her walls squeezing around him like no tomorrow, prolonging their highs as long as possible, shattering them into new precipices of pleasure.

as she panted for air when his hips stilled and her eyes met his with utmost fondness as he pulled out, letting his essence trickle out of her core, she kissed jey again because she could. jey helped clean her with a damp towel, sparing no shortage of adoration in the form of kisses and sweet nothings of “mamas”, “mami”, and “babygirl” that left her floating on golden clouds of warmth and sugar. while she rested into his chest, their whirlwind excursion wearing them out in the best of ways before an undoubted next round, she allowed herself to savor how all those weeks of the phone crystallized into a night of explosive bliss

and another. and another.

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom

#jey uso #main event jey uso #wwe #the bloodline #jey uso x reader #jey uso fic #jey uso smut #jey uso imagine #wwe fic #wwe x reader #og bloodline #wwe fnafiction #wwe imagine

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siri-ike · 1 day ago

Text

"Hello. I need someone at Wayne Manor. Someone just died... I think." Bruce had locked himself in the nearest room. Thankfully, one of the wireless phones was in there. "I don't know who it was, but he looked like he could be about 15 or 16, and he had white hair. He just, melted, into some kind of goo." He tried to catch his breath, but he couldn't. The thoughts circling around in his head just wouldn't leave him alone. Why was Alfred so calm? Why didn't he want to call the police? Was the detective here yesterday because of this? Did Alfred kill that boy? No! Alfred would never do something like that! There has to be a better explanation. "Can you send Lieutenant Gordon, please?" Jim can find the answer. He can trust Jim. "Hello?" Isn't there supposed to be someone on the other end? Telling him to be calm in a situation where it's impossible to be calm?

"Danny. We can explain everything."

Bruce throws the phone across the room. It's, it's the detective from yesterday. He must be behind this. Everyone knows the cops in Gotham are dirty.

"Master, Bruce. Listen, it's not what it looks like." He's probably forcing Alfred to help him, too. That's why he was so weird at dinner.

Windows locked. He must have planned for this. Was all of this premeditated? Was he supposed to see that? Bruce tried to find anything heavy enough to break the window, but of course, this room was practically a padded cell.

He had to settle for wrapping his jacket around his fist. The glass was more decorative than sturdy, so it wasn't that hard to break. But it was loud. He had to kick it a couple of times to make the hole big enough. Then he stopped. What was he thinking? They're just going to get more aggressive now. And it's not like he can just leave. Where would he go? His hand really hurts.

He was alerted to the door by scratching and light clinking noises. They're picking the lock. He sneaks over to the bathroom, careful not to leave a blood trail.

The door bursts open, footsteps rush into the room, and someone jumps out the window. It was all one sound, but Bruce knew exactly what happened. He let's out a silent, sigh of relief. He waits a moment to make sure he can't hear any movement. He looks through the key hole in the bathroom door before cautiously opening it. The room is empty. The emergency phone should work. He can get there in 7 minutes flat. He'd timed himself dozens of times.

The door to the hallway was left open. Best not to touch it in case he comes back before Bruce gets discovered. The second he crept past the door, he felt a pair of eyes on him.

Alfred grabbed his left sleeve, but Bruce simply ripped it off and bolted away as fast as he could. He made it out of the family wing and through the guest room wing but got cut of half way through the collection corridor.

Desperately, Bruce tried to slow him down, but the detective seemed to be perfectly capable of running on the walls and ceiling, too. What kind of freak did he get involved with? He had almost made it to the medieval weapons room when Grayson picked him up like he weighed nothing more than an angry sack of flour. Screaming, kicking, biting. Nothing worked. He was too strong. He sprayed something in Bruce's face, and, it was, it was like everything, got fuzzy, and a little warm, hehe, all his muscles felt so soft, and bones, little squishy, hehe hehehe, squishy bones.

Dick let Danny lay in his arms, giggling for a while. Long enough to catch his breath. Was the real Bruce so slippery at this age? Long enough for Alfred to get here.

Dick picked Danny up. As gentle as he could with all that twitching. He didn't wanna use that spray on a child, but he couldn't knock him out either. What if he forgets again?

Back at the batcave Dick had to keep holding Danny because he wouldn't let go of his arm. It's totally not because he just likes the snuggle. Nope. Nightwing is being very professional. He hasn't even mentally designed a new Robin costume.

At long last, Zatanna Zeta-ed in. The JLD had been off world for ages, dealing with some dimension crap.

"Hey, girl," She elegantly stepped out of the glowing portal.

"Hey, girl," He replied. "Want the breif or are you cought up?"

"Bat-Clone, recently stabilized, altzimers? Question mark? Thinks he's Bruce in the late 80s." She gave Dick a look. "You two were made for each other." She teased.

"Ha-ha," He mocked. "He's out of it now, but he won't be able to lie or run."

"And he's on your lap because - You're just such close friends? I figured he would have accused you of murder or something by now."

"Murder?" His voice got higher. "Nooo - he didn't specify." Nightwing sounded like he was drowning on dry land. "I mean, sure, he requested a homicide detective. But that's just because Jim is the only cop he trusts." A chill runs through Dicks whole body. Danny had turned his head so now Dicks chest was covered in drool.

Zatanna reached her hand into her hat and pulled out a notebook and pen. "Let's start, then." She smiled smuggly at Dick, then crouched down just enough to be eye level with Danny. She put a hand on the boys' sholder. "Can you tell me your name?"

Bruce slowly turned his head, looking like he might fall over if he tried to move faster. There was a woman's voice speaking to him. She was blurry, and his eyes didn't wanna open all the way, but he could tell she had long black hair and was either wearing a black bodice with white sleeves or just a bodice. The room they were in was dimly lit, so that wasn't helping. "Auh?"

"Can you tell me your name?" She repeated patiently.

"... Bruce... Wayne... 12... April... 1988?"

Zatanna looked confused at Dick returned a shrug.

"What happened to you?" She addressed Bruce again.

"I - I, saw, a boy in the hallway. He melted," Bruce gestured to the green sludge, no longer glowing all over his shirt and pants. "Alfred was, going to clean it. Like, he knew someone was going to melt there." Bruce was too busy tripping balls to notice the concerned looks around him. "I called the police, but, detective, was on the phone. I tricked him, to jump, out the window."

Zatanna glanced at Nightwing, who looked proud more than anything.

"I was gonna run to the panic room. There's, phone there, but detective chased me." Bruce held tighter onto Dicks arm.

Zatanna looked between the two and closed her book. "Bruce? Who's lap are you sitting on?"

Nightwing braced for impact.

"My dad." He said fondly.

Zatanna took a deep breath. "Is your dad alive?"

"No." Bruce smiled.

A slew of emotions came and went from Zatannas face before landing on the next question. "Are you alive?"

"No." He looked so pleased.

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

#fanfic #danny phantom #dc universe #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #alfred pennyworth #nightwing #dick grayson #zatanna

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kookochan · 2 days ago

Text

Trust

You don't know why you feel this way towards him. Neither does he know. Maybe you need some time, maybe you need to spill some secrets.

Summary: What if Jungkook, the boy who does everything to annoy you, finds out some of your secrets? +18

student Jungkook x fem! student reader

(Private University & rich families)

warnings/content: cigarettes, use of drug (weed), sexual content (unprotected sex - do not, oral fem rec.,), violence (mentions of beating up someone), mentions of blood, family issues, alcohol

wc: 5,3K

༊*·˚

You're sitting on a bench in the middle of the park. Watching the moon and smoking a cigarette. The silence feels heavy, your thoughts going wild. You feel warm although it's freezing outside. Your grandmother's voice in the back of your head.

"With every day that passes, you look more like your mother."

"She was a bitch who only wanted the money of my son."

"You wonder why I don't like you, but did you ever think about the fact that your own mother left you?"

"I will never see you as my family."

Every time you saw her, you had an argument. She never accepted the fact that you're her grandchild. The only one. You also had a lot of discussions with your dad about her attitude towards you, but he always told you that she is old. That she will never change, and it's too late to change her. You will never tolerate that. And that is the problem. Today she overstepped the line by arguing with you in the hallway of your house. The Jeon's sitting in the living room and enjoying the scene. At the end, it's a big no-go for your dad to have a family dinner without you. But you don't even care anymore.

Opening the little metal box, you see that you only have one cigarette left. A sigh leaves your mouth. You hear some steps coming towards you; turning your head in the direction you see Jungkook's wide smile, you realize that the night will be longer than usual.

"You really are a little crybaby," he says with a teasing voice. You roll your eyes at him. "Fuck off". He sits next to you and looks around. It is funny because nobody is here. "I would rather fuck you," he says, voice a little lower. You choose to ignore him. He notices that you are shivering and puts his jacket over your legs in your short dress. You grab it to throw it back to him, but he is quick to stop you.

"I'm not here to tease you this time. I overheard your conversation with your grandma and felt bad. Don't get me wrong; I'm not pitying you, but I can understand how you feel. It must probably suck," he tells you; this time his voice is more gentle. "You don't need to waste your time here. I will go back soon. Oh, and I hope you didn't expect to hear my story or whatever," you say. He nods, already prepared for this answer.

You sit in silence with him for another thirty minutes. It's time for your last cigarette, but you can't smoke in front of him. He would definitely use it against you because, at the end of the day, nobody knows about it. "I will go back home. Have a good night, and thanks, I guess," you say while standing up and handing him his jacket. He quickly gets up too and walks with you. You turn towards him and frown, "Leave me alone, creep". His soft laugh fills the cold night. "You don't expect me to let you go alone at night, right?" he asks.

The walk is silent but surprisingly peaceful. When the realization hits you, you stop in your tracks. "I can't go home. They are still there," you say and squat down. No, you will not show weakness, but you're ten seconds away from crying. To your surprise, Jungkook squats down next to you. "Hmm, you're right. Your dad is leaving tomorrow for a business trip, right? So how about turning back tomorrow?" he asks. You look at him, unsure if he wants to help or make fun of you. "Yeah. I will go to a hotel," you answer. "Nah, don't worry; you can stay at mine," he says and stands up. He reaches for your hand to help you. You don't bother to answer him, just following him to his house.

The door of his apartment closes behind you. It's funny that he gives you a place to stay. After all, your father and his father are hating each other. They are sitting at the same table just for work. And like them, you and Jungkook hate each other too?

"I will give you something from my closet," he says and goes to his bedroom with a walk-in closet. You sit down on his couch. The last time you were here was one month ago when you both argued about something Jungkook did, and the teacher thought it was you. Jungkook took the opportunity and acted like you were the bad guy. But the argument ended differently; it ended with him fucking you. And neither of you ever talked about that again.

Jungkook comes back with some clothes in his hand. "Here, wear these," he says while handing them to you. Maybe he wanted you to change in the bathroom, but you start to undress in front of him. His eyes watching you with sparkles. You put on the shorts and the shirt he gave you. Both a little bit bigger than expected. "Thank you for letting me stay," you murmur and sit down. He thinks that you look adorable with his own clothes on. "Are you hungry?" he asks. You shake your head in response.

"Can I have a pillow, please?" you ask him. The tiredness has a grip on you. "You can sleep on the bed," he says instead. "I don't want to," you answer right away. Laying down on the couch and turning your back on him. Your hair is messily on the couch, and he dares to play with some strands. You're really sleepy to notice anything, and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep. He stands up and carries you to his bed. Making sure that you can sleep well.

The next morning is cold. You already left his house without a sound. Jungkook expected it already but felt strange anyway. He doesn't know why you're both acting this way, like hating each other. It's also confusing to him to call it 'hate' because what he is feeling is a lot different than that. At the end he decides to ignore all of it and goes to school.

•

"She is crazy. If she lived years ago, they would definitely call her a witch," Jimin says in utter disbelief. You laugh at that. "I really don't understand what she wants from me. Just let me live, you know?". He feels sad about your family drama and wishes he could do more for you. "But you said you slept somewhere else. Where?" he asks. "Don't judge me, but I was with Jungkook," you say a little shy about the confession. But yes, he dramatically turns his whole body towards you. "What the fuck? Why wouldn't you call me?" he says a little mad. "He heard everything and followed me when I left the house. It was already late, and I was like, Fuck it, I will go with him," you say. You don't care about Jungkook. "He will use that information," Jimin says and plays with your hair. "If he annoys you, tell me and I will talk to him. He listens to me well because he loves me," he adds. You laugh and hug him right away. "Everyone loves you," you tell him. You're happy to have a best friend like him.

•

The uni day is hectic like always. It's not like old schools anymore because everyone is from a rich family and too serious to have actual fun. Sometimes you wonder why your family insisted on a private university. "I want to go home," Yuna says after a drag on the cigarette. Yuna was one of your closest friends, and now you're sitting on a bench hidden behind the building. You watch your own smoke leaving your mouth. "Same," you answer. At the same time, you hear a loud noise and turn in the direction. The source of the noise leads Yuna to stand up in panic and walk in the opposite direction. You roll your eyes at her.

Jungkook is standing there with his phone and goes on with the recording. "I think your dad won't like this," he says with a grin. You take the last drag. "Stop filming me," you tell him, which he listens to. He walks over to stand right in front of you. You look up with an annoyed smile, "What do you want?". Jungkook grins at that and asks, "What can you offer?". It's a green light for you to tease him. Your fingers move from his chest to his belt. You can feel that his breathing changes. His eyes are watching you with lust. "A lot," you answer to the question some seconds ago. You start to move your fingers a little lower to feel him more. He puts a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You look pretty in this position," he tells you. "I know, and I also know that you want me to go on. Maybe in your dreams," you say with a low voice. You push his chest to stand up, and he laughs at that. "We will see," he says as you walk away.

•

The lunch break begins, and you are having a conversation with Jimin. "She could behave at school," someone says while looking towards you. "Why are they looking at us?" Jimin asks. Since you are sitting here, more people started to watch you. You have the feeling they're also talking about you. "What's the matter?" you ask a random boy. He looks a little shy but answers, "Someone said that you're smoking in the uni-blog on Twitter.". Oh, that's right; you really thought Jungkook would keep it for himself?

"How did they know?" Jimin whispers. "Jungkook saw me today," you answer. These people will talk about it for some days, so it's not a big deal. Until you see a proud Jungkook waving at you. He wants to play, so you accept that.

The next tweet is about Jungkook and his failed love life. It's not a big thing but a good distraction from your scandal. I mean every girl is talking about him, but he never dated anyone. There must be a reason, right? Maybe a small dick. What you didn't expect was that he didn't give a fuck. He also laughed at the rumors and told some girls, 'I can show you if you want'. In summary, you hate him a lot.

•

Jungkook turns off the water of his shower. He puts a towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom. Already checking his notifications on Twitter. Everyone is talking about you and him. The combination is cute to him, so he lets out a chuckle. When he walks inside the living room to get to the kitchen, he freezes in his spot. It's dark inside, but he can see a figure sitting on his couch. He turns on the lights to see you sit there and look at him.

"What the hell. How did you get inside?" he asks. Jungkook is shocked for real. "I saw your passcode last time," you answer while tilting your head. The view is nice. His toned abs and some tiny water droplets on his skin. He knows that you're checking him out. "I will change and come back," he says, despite liking the attention.

After putting on some grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, he turns back to the living room. "Okay, what do you want? It must be urgent if you break into my house," he says. "First of all, are you Gossip Girl? Why would you say that to the uni-blog?" you ask him annoyed. "I thought it was fun. And why are you questioning me after doing it yourself?" he asks back. You roll your eyes. "I know that your little tweet is just the beginning. And I really don't want my dad knowing about it. So I want to find a solution," you say with a smile this time.

He looks at your lips. It's the first time that you're not forcing yourself to smile at him. And he definitely likes that. "Okay, let's find a solution. How about being friends?" he asks. "Oh, come on. That's what you suggest? You're the one who has been bullying me since the first day. Now you want to be friends?" you ask back. This time he rolls his eyes and adds, "We can try at least". You think for a while.

Option one is that he is pretending to be interested in finding a solution. Option two is that he is thinking of something else, so he is acting right now. The last option is that he wants to try.

You hope it's the last option when you say, "Okay, let's try". He smiles at you and shakes your hand. At the same time, his eyes catch the paper bag on the coffee table. "Did you buy food for me?" he asks. "No, dumbass. I bought it for us," you say and sit down on the rug. Opening the bag, you put everything on the table so he can eat too. He watches every single movement you do, and he is happy that it's so peaceful.

Both of you are sitting on the rug and eating while watching a movie. You talked a lot about the plot and the food. When the movie ends, Jungkook suggests drinking a little. He fills up some wine, and you start drinking in silence. "My father is cheating on my mother," Jungkook says all of a sudden. You look up to him. "What?". He shrugs. "Yeah. My mother knows, but because of the name of the family, she stays. That's also the reason why I'm living alone," he adds. "Why are you telling me this?" you ask. "To gain your trust," he answers. You nod at him. "I'm so sorry about that. I can imagine that you're mad at your mother for staying silent, but sometimes you can't change their minds. Try to be there for her anyway because she must be feeling lonely. She is old enough to make decisions," you say.

There is a moment of silence. He grabs your hand and plays with your fingers. "Thank you," he says. This time he looks vulnerable and kind. You smile up at him only to see that he is already looking at you. The eye contact feels heavy but peaceful. When he gets closer, you close your eyes and feel his lips on yours. The kiss is so slow and intense that you need to hold on to his shoulder. He slides his tongue inside your mouth, which makes you moan. Pulling back, he whispers, "I need you close". It's a sign for you to sit on his thighs and continue to kiss. The makeout session gets deeper, and he starts to walk to his bedroom with you in his arms.

He puts you down on the bed and gets rid of his shirt. You do the same thing and watch him get over you. "You're so pretty," he says and starts kissing a way from your chest to your tummy. It doesn't take long for him to undress you. He is on his knees between your legs, and his tongue is playing with your heat. You moan his name when he starts pushing his fingers inside. The sensation hitting harder than you remembered. He takes his time to savor your taste. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you start shaking against his lips. He quickens his pace, and his free hand caresses your tummy. "Come for my baby," he says while locking his eyes to yours. It's the final push you needed to come undone with a little moan.

You watch him pull out his fingers and lick them. When he starts kissing you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers find a way to his chest, gently touching his abs, and they stop at his hardened dick. You stroke him in a tight grip, and his needy moan fills your ears. He kisses your neck and behind your ear. "I want to fuck you," he whispers. He pulls away a little, and you smile at him, "Fuck me".

"Get on all fours," he says while pulling away a little. He slowly strokes his dick and watches the way you're positioning yourself. "Condom?" he asks and helps you to spread your legs. "No, I'm on the pill," you say. He comes close and pushes your head down. His other hand positions his dick to your entrance. With a quick push, he is nestled inside you. You moan at the sensation and his hissing. He doesn't wait for a sign of you; he starts to thrust. "You're so tight," he murmurs at the feeling. His pace quickens with every thrust. His lips press against your hips and back. You wonder how he can be so gentle and hard at the same time.

When he turns you on your back, only to watch your face, you close your eyes. "Look at me," he says while holding your hips to quicken his pace. Your eyes flutter open, and you watch his dick going in and out of you. "koo.." you moan at the sight. "Fuck," he grunts at the nickname. He can see that you're already fucked out and that you're near coming again. When you start shaking against him, his hips falter for a moment. You moan his name while coming down from your high. "Good girl," he praises you while his own climax is reaching him. With a final thrust, his dick twitches inside you. He pushes his whole length inside and spills his cum inside you. Both of your mouths leave a moan. He rests his head on your belly without putting all his weight on you. Your hands quickly find his hair.

He looks up to you with a lovesick smile and watches your tired eyes with awe. Then he slowly pulls out of you, which makes you whine. "Sorry, baby," he says and throws himself next to you. It's weird this time because all he is doing is watching you. You don't know how to feel and also why your heart is beating so fast. He stands up and pulls you into his arms. "Let's take a bath," he says and walks to the bathroom. The night goes on with a long bath and a peaceful sleep. Hugging each other tight until the morning. And also you eat breakfast together.

•

"One more round?" Jimin asks. He looks a little drunk with pink cheeks. You smile at him and nod. At the end it was his idea to go to the house party. You accepted right away because the last time was a long time ago. You watch Jimin walking to the kitchen, and at the same time, you see something suspicious. A nice-looking guy exchanges something. They look like weeds. You never tried it out, but it looks appealing. He looks over to you with a lazy smile, and you return it. That's a good excuse for him to walk towards you.

"Are you watching some business?" he asks. "I mean, you're doing it in the middle of the room," you say. He hands you the drink that he's holding. You take a quick sip and scrunch your face. "It's too strong". He smiles at that and drinks it in one go. "What's your name?" he asks. "Yn, and yours?". "Yoongi," he answers. "If you're interested, that's my number. Call me and we can meet up," he says while giving you a piece of paper. Then he walks away without looking back. Weird you think, but you also keep his number.

"Nice to see you," you hear from behind. When you turn around, you see Jungkook standing there with a cup in his hand. "Same," you answer. Without a single word, you start to dance with him. It's weird how both of you started to move in rhythm. He holds your hips and sings to the music. You laugh at his cute expression and sing along. All of this moment starts to feel like it's in slow motion. Your eyes catch Jimin's worried face and the way he tries to get to you.

You stop dancing, and Jungkook gives you a questioning look. "We need to go," Jimin says without looking at Jungkook. "What happened?" you ask him. Instead of answering, he pulls you away, but Jungkook's strong hand stops him. "What is going on?" he asks this time. Jimin sighs and shows his phone. It's a tweet from the uni-blog.

Hi, my lovely followers. Today's topic is Y/n l/n. Her mother left after giving birth to her. Such a heartbreaking story. But how can she be the school's queen everyone fears? Let's think about that.

See you in the next post!

Your eyes widened while reading it. Everyone thinks that your mother died after your birth. Only your family knows about the truth. And Jimin, and Jungkook. You freeze at the realization and turn towards him. He looks shocked and confused at the same time. "That's so low. Even for you, Jeon," you say. His eyes find yours, but he doesn't answer. You walk to the door knowing a lot of people are looking at you. This gossip will be haunting you for days and months.

When Jungkook starts walking towards you, Jimin stops him. "I thought you guys would be at peace. Did you tell them?" he asks. Jungkook turns to look at him. "No. I swear this time it was not me," he answers. Jimin watches his expressions, and it's weird that he thinks that he is not lying. Both of them rush to the door, but you're long gone.

While getting your phone out of your pocket, you see the paper with a number on it. First you text Jimin that you're going home and want to be alone. Second, you save the number and text him, 'Can we meet?'. Maybe the decision is thoughtless and you will regret it, but right in this moment you need to relax. Your head hurts from thinking about all the rumors and the reaction of your family. Yoongi sends his location and tells you to come in one hour. So you go home and change into more comfy clothes and walk to his place.

The location Yoongi sent to you is a garage in a quiet neighborhood. After a small knock on the door, it opens to reveal Yoongi standing there. He waits for you to come inside, and you start looking around. You had a wild imagination of the space, but to your surprise, it looks really good. There is a big couch in the middle of the garage on a red rug, and in the back you can see some instruments. On the walls are some posters and signs. "Do you like it?" he asks while walking to a chest with drawers. "It's suits you," you answer and sit down on the couch. He comes back with two rolled-up bars. "Are you going to smoke too?" you ask. He nods and makes him comfortable on the couch.

You pull your knees to your chest and hold the blunt in your hand. It's already burning, and you take your first drag. You can feel the difference between weed and the usual stuff you smoke. All of your nerves are relaxing. "So tell me what brings you here," Yoongi says while smoking his own. "I got exposed. Everybody knows what happened with my mother. It sucks," you say. You feel like it's easier to talk, and your thoughts are more collected. "What happened to her?" he asks. He is not the type who is interested in drama, especially because he is older. "She left me after my birth. She saw me as a burden," you admit. You don't know why the tears are streaming down your face.

"I'm sorry for you. But at the end it's her loss. As I can see, you also managed to grow up without her. So you shouldn't be sad about it," he tells you in a cold voice. You glance at him. "It's easy to say. Maybe we would be a perfect family?" you say. He laughs at that. "I know your dad, yn. He would be the same as now, and probably your mother would work with him too. Nothing would change. It's the dynamics of your family. They are focused on working and making money. They need the power". For a moment you're quiet and think. He is right; probably nothing would change. You sigh, "You're right". That's the final word you say, and both of you start smoking in silence.

Your phone is ringing for the 10th time this night. Not that you're aware of it because you fell asleep on the couch an hour ago. But Yoongi starts to feel annoyed by the ringtone. He pulls out your phone and answers it. "Where are you? I'm standing in front of your house, and it looks empty!" Jungkook asks in worry. Yoongi chuckles at that. "She is at my place," he answers. Jungkook freezes at the voice. It's kind of a familiar voice. "Oh, it's me, Yoongi," he adds. "Why is she there? Don't tell me she smoked some shit, hyung," he asks a little angrily. "I know you told me to stay away from her, but she came on her own. Don't get mad; she is alright and sleeping. You can take her home if you want," he explains. Jungkook doesn't answer; he hangs up and starts driving.

When he walks into the garage, he looks at your sleeping figure. You look so peaceful. "Hi, do you want a drink?" Yoongi asks. "No thanks. I will bring her home," he answers. He picks you up carefully and puts you in the car. After making sure you're buckled up and safe, he drives to his apartment.

•

You open your eyes and look around. You can't remember coming here or falling asleep. The distant noises are a sign that you're not alone. You walk to the kitchen only to be met with Jungkook cooking. He doesn't catch that you're standing behind him. For a moment you're enjoying the view. It doesn't matter what he wears or does; he always looks good. When he turns around to place something on the table, he looks at you. "Oh, good morning," he says and smiles at you. You don't answer him and sit down to start eating. He frowns a little, but also he understands.

He sits in front of you and watches you eating. "It wasn't me," he says. You watch his eyes for a moment in hope of catching some mischief in them. But he seems honest. "Okay," you say and smile. "You don't need to go to uni for a while. You can stay here, or I can drive you home," he suggests. "Actually, I don't want to go home. My dad will ask a lot of questions about it," you answer. "You can stay as long as you want," he tells you and grabs your hand. His fingers moving gently on the back of your hand. "Thank you. I appreciate that, but I will stay with Jimin," you say. A little sad to break his heart. He quickly masks the disappointment on his face. "I also will go to school. No need to act like it's affecting me," you add. He nods at that, and both of you return to eat.

•

The school day is as expected. A lot of students asked you about the news, and you told them that it's a family issue. Also, you got a lot of weird looks from people you didn't like. You feel a little lonely when neither Jimin nor Jungkook is in sight. You wonder what they are doing.

At the same time, Jungkook and Jimin are standing in the sports hall. Some of their friends holding the door and others standing in front of it to give a signal when a teacher comes. The poor boy is sitting on his knees on the floor. Apologies leaving his mouth in fear. Jimin and Jungkook were on the search for the responsible person. And it was easier to find him than they were expecting. He was the son of a famous family. His mother was friends with your grandmother. And that explains how he knew about your secret. Jimin wanted him to apologize to you, but Jungkook wasn't satisfied with this idea. So he started beating him up and then made him apologize. "I will text YN to come," Jimin tells him.

After receiving the message, you walk to the sports hall. A little confused but also curious. When you step inside, you see a boy with blood all over his face looking at you. Jimin and Jungkook standing in front of him. "What the fuck is going on?" you ask. Both men turn towards you. "That's the guy who told it to the blog," Jimin answers. You roll your eyes. "So you started beating him up?" you ask. "He deserved that," Jungkook says and shrugs his shoulders.

The boy looks at you in hope and says, "I'm sorry. It was dumb of me. Please forgive me". You look him up and down. "Don't act like you're sorry. If I were you, I would run," you whisper the last sentence. He stays in place for a while, and then he starts running away. You turn to Jungkook, "I don't need a lame apology". "Everyone should know that they shouldn't mess with you," he says. You look down at his red knuckles and sigh, "Look at your hand. So stupid of you!". Jimin crackles at that but shuts up after getting a glare from Jungkook. You hug Jimin's side. "Thank you for being there for me," you say. He quickly hugs you back. "Everything for you, princess". You giggle at him and catch Jungkook's frown. "What about me?" he asks. For a moment he looks like a lost puppy, and you snort. "Thank you too," you say. But you can already see that he isn't satisfied with that. Despite that, you walk out with both of them and make fun of the boy who was seconds from crying. Your heart is feeling a lot lighter.

•

The weeks go on, and every day it gets quieter. There are some people left who talk about the topic, but a lot of them dropped it. You found a good bond with Jungkook and Jimin. Feeling like you were friends for more than years. Okay, you know both of them since childhood. But Jimin was your friend since then, and Jungkook your enemy. Not anymore, though, and it doesn't feel weird. You can feel that he is developing some feelings for you. And you can't deny that you have feelings too. But no need to rush it, right?

Your family was more affected by the gossip than you. They were worried that the business would be destroyed. Your dad and grandmother scolding you for being dumb and telling people about it. After you told them that it was the son of your grandmother's friend, they left you alone. Sometimes you were staying at Jungkook's house instead of at home. And you think that this was the best decision you ever had.

Tonight you planned to go on a date with Jungkook to spend some time together. He picks you up in his fancy car. Lending you a bouquet of red roses. You smile at him and lean in for a kiss. "You look beautiful," he says while looking at you. If you had seen this months ago, you would have laughed. But now you're happy with him and smiling wide every time he talks.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

I'm not a smoker, so don't come for me if I used wrong terms etc :( .

I would be happy if you could leave a review. Feel free to ask me questions or talk about anything (press the button in my bio)! Feel loved ♡

#kookochan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts #bts x reader #bts au

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ameliathornromance · 2 days ago

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The Other Woman - Final Part

A/N: Here’s part three! I know you guys wanted to know what happened to the Guard’s wife so here it is; This will also be the last part I do for this series as I’ve got a ton of other ideas and I’d like to work on those as well. Anyway, enjoy the last part!

Since you’d left the Palace in the Human populated area, time went by in a whirlwind.

Your wedding with the Lord had happened quickly after leaving and was one of the prettiest events the whole forest – and some humans – had ever seen.

The Fae Lord had been delighted to invite and meet the rest of your family. He and your father seemed to get along swimmingly already, and greeted each other like they were old friends when your families carriage arrived in the forest.

Later that evening, after catching up with your family and entertaining them the whole day, you had asked the Fae Lord something that had been on your mind for the day, “how and when did you meet my father?”

It had evaded you how he had asked your father for your hand, and it hadn’t occurred to you to ask your Fiance until today.

The Fae Lord gave his signature grin as he raised a tea cup to his lips, “I actually met him the night I said I wanted to help you.” He explained, “your father was in a pub and I had snuck out to go and do some late night drinking. He was there and we just hit it off.” The Lord set his cup down on its saucer and frowned. “Although, it wasn’t until the next morning that I actually found out he was your father, and then had to work on my image before I asked him for your hand.”

You snorted, “yeah something tells me he wouldn’t have been happy about a drunken Fae asking for my hand in marriage after you’d been out with him the previous night.”

Soon, your wares and personal items began to arrive from the Palace and amongst them, were all the presents that the King’s Guard had gifted you. They had been thrown into one of your many jewellery boxes, the necklaces tangled together with the many bracelets that the Orc had gifted you.

They felt dirty, wrong to even look at now, felt tarnished and rusted with sin as you ran your thumb over the smooth gold.

Of course, you wouldn’t dream of wearing them, but you also couldn’t stand to just throw them away. Many other people who were less fortunate than you could benefit from the money that these items cost… but the thought of giving the people evidence of adultery filled you with dread, made your stomach churn with anxiety.

You explained your complicated feelings to your fiance one morning at breakfast.

He listened intently, before suggesting, “why don’t you send them to King’s Guards’ wife?”

Your blood turned cold at the thought. “Isn’t that a bit… callous?” You asked. “For her I mean. She’s probably had the baby now, and isn’t in much of a situation to leave him if she wanted… That and then everyone would know what happened between me and her husband.”

“Not necessarily.” Your fiance said, raising a finger. He leaned his elbows on the breakfast table and pointed at you, “it doesn’t have to be done in bad taste. If you send her the jewellery and offer her a position here, with better pay and better accommodation, she may just come here and decide to work for us.”

“But what if she’s angry with me?” You asked, worriedly. “That would be such an insult to her! I don’t want to do anything to make her even more angry than she would already be with me.”

The Fae Lord pursed his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. “You didn’t know he was married did you?” He asked you.

“No, of course not!”

“And you stopped the affair after you found out, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did it!” You groaned.

The Fae took your hand in his, “look, you can’t control her reaction,” he said, plainly. “But, what you can do, is offer her compensation for the emotional damage she would feel from finding out. That’s why you would be offering her the job. She would be moved away from her husband, she gets better pay than she did at the Palace and her child gets to grow up in a place surrounded by greenery.” He gestured to the castle around him.

You stared at the polished wooden table in front of you. “But… what if she tells everyone that I had an affair with him?” You whispered. “I’d be ruined, and then we wouldn’t be able to marry, and then there’s my parents-”

“It would look worse on her.” The Lord said, “Of course, it’s bad that her husband had the affair, but she would be looked down on as an Orc, for trying to slander a person of the aristocracy.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “And I’ll be here to protect you, won’t I? I’ll make sure none of that does anything to stop us from being together. I promise.”

Now that you had gained some distance from the Palace you had contemplated on confessing everything to the Orc’s wife. She didn’t deserve to be stuck in that kind of situation, after all, it’s not like she did anything to warrant such an awful partner.

And so, with shaking hands and a clumsily written letter, you sent off the jewellery to the Palace and to the Orc’s wife.

The weeks after it had been sent off were like waiting on a jury verdict. Every morning you awoke in your bedroom, you expected the Fae servants attending you, to give you dirty looks or treat you coldly, as the news of you being a homewrecker, had spread through out the Kingdom and Forest.

And every morning, when that didn’t happen, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief – prompting some very concerned questions from your attendants.

You did your best to explain in the letter what had actually happened between you and the King’s Guard, and only hoped that his wife would be understanding.

You didn’t expect to be forgiven, but for her to understand would be more than enough.

What you didn’t expect however, was in the mid-afternoon when you were going over some favour colour choices for your wedding, that a Fae woman would burst into your office, panting. “Orc- woman-” she breathed, “demands to see- my Lady-”

You’d never abandoned an activity faster. Shoeing away the woman who’d brought you the favour colours, you asked the Fae, “where? Where is she?”

The Fae hoarsed out something about the Orc woman being in the gardens.

You practically dashed through the halls, leaving your own servants and the dignified stride of a Lady behind as you rushed for the gardens.

Finally, you reached the garden doors. They were tall, beautiful things, made of hard oak wood and harden sap panels for windows that swirled and curled, obscuring anyone from peering into the gardens.

As you reached for the twig door handles, you stopped just short of them.

Did you really want to see this Orc? Who was probably so angry with you, she might bite your head off?

It’s not like you could turn back now, after all, she’s right behind those crystal doors in front of you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you flung the doors open and stepped outside into the gardens.

You didn’t have to go far to find her.

The Orc Lady who you had seen in the kitchens, time and time again, with her kind smile and kind tone, was gone.

Instead, the Orc Lady stood with a suitcase in hand, a baby glued to her chest with a fabric cloth. The infant slept soundly, without any kind of inclination of what was going on.

Your stomach twisted as you recognised some of King’s Guards’ features on its face.

After a moment of silence, the Orc snarled at you. “Is it really true?” Her voice was as deep as thunder, full of murderous intent.

Pursing your lips, you lowered your head. There wasn’t anything that you could say or do to make this any better.

When you were thinking through your revenge plans, you truly had no idea whether or not you ought to tell the Guards wife. She was already going to be under enough stress as it was, seeing as she had to give birth to a baby in – what you judged to be at the time – a few weeks.

Adding a cheating husband to the mix, you determined, would do nothing to help her out.

When you said nothing, the Orc threw her suitcase at your feet. The jewellery you sent her exploded out of the case, scattered across the grass at your feet. “And you didn’t think to tell me!?” She shouted.

You kept quiet, staring at the collection of gold and silver at your feet.

“How dare you keep this from me!” She bellowed, “what did I do to deserve that being kept from me?! Did I wrong you in some way, (Y/N)?!”

Swallowing hard, you raised your head to look at her. “No.” You said, bravely. “You didn’t do anything… I was trying to think of your baby and your wellbeing-”

“And taking care of my wellbeing is keeping quiet about my cheating son of a bitch husband!?” She bellowed. She pointed a thick green finger at you, “that is not your decision to make!” She hissed.

“Well what was I supposed to do?!” You retorted. Kicking away the valuables, you approached her, “it’s not like I could out him for what he was! That would have ruined everything for me and you too! How would I know you wouldn’t do the same thing to me!?”

“Because I thought we were friends!” She snapped back.

You recoiled at her words. Friends?

The Orc’s chest heaved up and down as she rubbed her face, “I know that we weren’t exactly the closest of people,” she said, “but you were the only one who would come to the kitchens to purposefully see me. I liked having you around, (Y/N) and it broke my heart when… when he said I couldn’t tell anyone I was pregnant.” Taking her hands away from her face, she wiped her nose. “So I couldn’t see you anymore, or tell you. And I know that you didn’t know I was married, I can forgive you for that… but when you did find out, not telling me about any of it?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “And only getting that package and letter? It just…” She covered her mouth and looked away from you.

You stopped halfway over to her. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something comforting, supportive. But any kind of words like that died in your throat.

“I… I’m sorry.” you settled on finally. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I should have been up front and honest with you and shouldn’t have kept that from you.” For the first time since meeting your fiance, you cursed him.

You were right to think that his idea was cold. You continued your approach and placed a hand on the Orcs shoulder, “I know I can’t do anything to fix what I’ve done or change the past of what I did. But I can try and help you now and in the future.”

The Orc looked at you, her eyes bloodshot and still swimming with tears.

“Don’t feel like you have to take the job if you don’t want it,” you said, honestly. “If you don’t want it, I’ll be happy to do anything else to compensate what you lost – Hell, I’ll even find you a better husband if you wish.”

“I never said I wasn’t taking the job.” The Orc Lady said, quickly. She turned back around to face you. She wiped her fingers across her cheeks, drying up her stray tears and then cleared her throat. “But, if I’m going to work here, I want higher pay and more time off so I can spend it with my son.”

“Higher than I already offered?” You asked, slightly offended. What you originally offered was way higher than what the Palace was offering her, at least three times the pay. And now she wants more?

The Orc Lady crossed her arms, just in front of her baby and narrowed her eyes at you.

Sighing, you lamented, “okay, okay. Higher pay then.” You supposed that she had a right to demand more of you, especially after your affair.

She gave you a weary smile at you. “Thank you my Lady.” She pursed her lips, “and… thank you for finally telling me about what happened.”

The position you’d offered your ex’s wife, was kitchen work, but this time, she was head of it. Her son – whom she had decided to name Cogak – was a bright baby, even just fresh out of the womb.

You arranged for him to have his own nanny so his mother could work without worrying about him.

The friendship you’d had with the Orc Lady wouldn’t be like it was before, but your trying to make things better, was a start.

The Fae Lord had smiled one evening as the pair of you decided on what flowers would be at your wedding venue. “I never expected an Orcling to be so intelligent.”

“Well, he is getting a noble child’s education.” You explained. “Apparently, he’s already doing better than most children his age. And that’s comparing him to the other Fae.”

The Fae chuckled as he examined a bouquet of blue orchids. “What about these for the reception?”

“What’s your suit colour?” You asked, quickly.

As if your fiance was himself a bride, he’d been very closed about what kind of suit he would be wearing to your wedding.

One time, you’d walked into his office and he squealed, and threw himself on top of the sketches his designer had come up for him, like he was a maiden who’d been walked in on while getting changed.

His closed off nature about it, only made you even more curious.

“If you think you’re going to get that out of me that easily, then I’d say this marriage isn’t going to last long, my darling.” The Fae Lord smirked as he ran his thumb over the petals of the flower.

“Patiences is a virtue. You don’t see me trying to peek at your wedding dress, do you?” He smirked, slyly. “I know it’s a human tradition, but why can’t I follow it too?”

He was right of course, he’d been incredibly respectful about your wedding dress and preferences when it came it. He was also very generous, giving you a large sum of gold to actually buy said wedding dress, “all I want is for you to be happy!” he’d said as he’d handed, three, four, five, six pouches of gold into the dressmakers hands.

The Fae Lord had given you a smile and whispered to you as he left the room, “let’s make our wedding the topic of the century!”

Although you chuckled at his words, you didn’t want to outshine the King and Queen. It would be an insult to the both of them, given that the Queen had been the one who had allowed you to become her Lady in Waiting. Without her, you wouldn’t have met the Fae Lord.

So, you decided to keep your dress modest, but elegant. It followed the traditional white, but had elements of the Fae world you would be marrying into. Little details of moss, spider web glittering on the train of your dress, while you had a golden, wreath as your tiara.

On the day of the wedding everything went smoothly.

As you started your walk down the aisle – with your father at your side, “I’m very happy you caught the eye of this Fae fellow, he’s a good time.” He had whispered as you prepared for your walk – you caught sight of your family crying tears of joy.

Your Fiance, at the other end of the aisle, seemed to outshine you as the bride.

His suit was quite the marvel, and you now understood why he didn’t want you to see it.

The dark red fabric accompanied by a rose petal cloak, contrasted with his white hair, that fell down his back, and over his shoulders like sheets of snow; He looked incredible.

After vows – with many tears – and the sealing of your union with a kiss, the whole room erupted with cheers and claps.

The reception afterwards was beautifully bright and colourful, with Fae and Humans dancing together as you and your husband sat and watched from behind the head table.

The Orc Lady’s son – who had grown surprisingly fast – was happy to be there, surrounded by people who doted on him as if he was the main celebrant of the reception.

Your Fae Lord Husband didn’t leave your side the whole night, dancing with you and bringing back the memories of when you first properly met.

The days following were hazy. You seemed to be barely lucid in that time, thanks to all the alcohol present, alongside your husband who – you had found out that night – was a clingy, emotional drunk.

“At first,” he had slurred at the reception, “I was a little worried about asking you, like,” he stared at you, his huge black eyes consuming your gaze. “You’re so beautiful and, I’m just some mud Fae,” he gestured to himself. “Who am I to ask someone like you to dance?”

You had rolled your eyes and pulled him into your arms, silencing his self-deprecating words. “No, don’t say that.” You had slurred back, “I’d have accepted even if you were a toad!”

But once the drunkenness had cleared, you’d found that you were feeling a lot more sickly than usual.

At first, you thought it was just the remainder of the alcohol finding it’s way out of your system. But when it didn’t go away after a month, you went to go and seek a physician.

And after a few tests, she confirmed to you what you had suspected: you were pregnant.

The Fae Lord was over the moon when he found out and excitedly told anyone who would listen about your pregnancy.

And now in the present, as you watched your husband natter to anyone who would listen about the names he’d thought of for your baby, you realised that you had never felt more content.

This was better than any fairy tale or romance novel that you’d ever read.

You occasionally thought about the King’s Guard, and how he was doing. But that never lasted long, as you were often pulled back into the present moment by your husband.

Who loved and cherished you more than that Orc ever could.

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

If you’re not sure about signing up, I have a 7 day free trial enabled on my £2 tier so you can see if you like my work written there!

Taglist <3

@sunndust @greenie-c

#monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x female #fae x reader #fae x female!reader #fae x y/n #fae x you #fae x human

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 days ago

Text

Whirlwind - Tyler Owens X Female Reader

Title: Whirlwind

Tyler Owens X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's friends (Mentioned), Dani, Dexter, Lily, Boone, Ben, a couple of other people (Mentioned), a random kid, and the kid's mother

WC: 5,197

Warnings: Post-Twisters events, thrill-seeker reader?, teasing, banter, flirting, friends to lovers, tornadoes, italics, nicknames, slightly suggestive, F4 tornado, events before and after a tornado, injuries, blood briefly mentioned, confession, slight angst, and fluff

You and Tyler had been friends for a very long time. Three years. You first met him when you were with your friends. You were on a road trip - during the summer off of college - when you all stopped at a small town in Oklahoma for the night. You found a motel but had not been expecting so many people partying in the parking lot. You had half a mind to find another motel to stay at, somewhere quieter, but the next town was a few good miles away, and you needed to preserve gas until you found a gas station.

Stepping out of the van, your friends were instantly drawn to the party. The atmosphere was inviting and warm, and it wasn't long until you lost sight of your friends, who had joined in on the festivities. You weren't really one for parties. Sometimes you were, but you had been on the road for a good couple of hours, and you just wanted to spend some time alone. However, upon seeing the bright stars and the full moon in the sky, you decided to hold off finding your motel room.

Being a photographer, you loved capturing the beauty of mother nature. Her work always inspired you. Throughout the trip, you had been taking pictures of anything and everything; from luscious forests, golden fields of wheat, and pouring cold rain. You loved taking pictures of breathtaking sights. However, your favorite things to capture were thunderstorms and the moon.

Eyes flickering over the party before you, you made sure to spot each of your friends before climbing the metal stairs. The strap of your compact camera felt heavy around your neck as you reached the second floor of the motel. Your gaze shifted to the bright moon, high in the sky, big and luminous, with some of its craters visible. Leaning against the metal railing, you pursed your lips briefly. Raising your camera, you found the moon through the lens, fixing the blur, but you frowned. From where you stood, it just wasn't the perfect shot.

Glancing down at the railing you were leaning on, you pushed through whatever fear you had and began to climb it. Still secured around your neck, you let go of your camera. Grabbing the wall beside you with one hand, you push up against the railing with the other; climbing up the horizontal bars of the railing. In moments you had managed to reach the top of the railing, bracing yourself on the wall attached to it. You were a good amount of feet high, enough that if you did fall, you would probably break a bone or two, but you - again - pushed past that fear. You were confident in your balance, and the railing, and you were determined to get this perfect shot. You glanced down at the party below you, spotting a few of your friends mingling and seemingly having fun.

With your free hand, you raised your camera once more, scrunching your face, you aimed and took the shot. With the shutter of the camera, you grinned, lowering it to smile down at the photo on the small screen.

‘Perfect.’

"Looks like someone’s aimin' for the most dangerous photo award." You heard a voice call out in your direction. Looking down, you spotted a man. He was wearing blue jeans and a red flannel. His head was tilted back slightly to look up at you, one hand on his cowboy hat so it didn't fall off his head. You narrowed your eyes, seeing the charismatic - almost amused - grin on his face.

"I don't think that's a thing," You called back down, moving your eyes away briefly before meeting his gaze, somewhat wary. What did he want?

Moving his hands onto his hips, his grin grew, and the cowboy stranger continued, "You good up there, or do ya need some help down?" His southern drawl was thick as honey and laced with amusement.

You huffed, trying to suppress a smile. "I'm fine, thank you very much."

He chuckled, his eyes almost twinkling. "Alrigh', jus' makin' sure. I’m Tyler, by the way. Tyler Owens." He tipped the brim of his cowboy hat.

You adjusted your stance on the railing, still clutching your camera. "Nice to meet you, Tyler. I’m Y/N." You finally smiled, feeling a strange warmth spread across your cheeks.

Well, what was supposed to be just a night's stay in Oklahoma ended up being a week, which then turned into three years between Oklahoma and Arkansas.

~~~

Being around the team - and being a part of the 'Tornado Wranglers' - for three years, it was only a matter of time until you and Tyler became inseparable. And it was obvious to your group of friends that there was definitely more going on than just a simple friendship. Even their YouTube viewers and subscribers - most if not all - thought or assumed that both you and Tyler were a couple. And it wasn't as if their assumptions were baseless, it really did seem - to those on the outside - that you and Tyler were dating.

There was more than one occasion where you held hands; either when you took his hand in yours when you walked side by side - jokingly swinging them to and fro - or after a particularly rough tornado chase where your hands would reach out for the other in search of comfort and reassurance.

There was more than just hand-holding, though. The both of you teased each other - borderline flirting - holding eye contact for a little bit too long to be considered platonic. Any simple contact between you two was prolonged, lingering. Especially hugs; which happened more frequently than not. You were always touching each other in some way. Whether it was hands resting on shoulders, arms around waists, linking arms, or even hugs from behind.

Overall, it was really easy to mistake the both of you as a couple. And it certainly didn't help that both of you were very affectionate towards each other.

But you were just friends. Really, really good friends. Though Tyler wished it could be more, he didn't want to risk ruining what you two had. Despite his desire to tell you how he felt; the longing to hold you close, to kiss you... Tyler feared he might lose you. He worried that if he told you, he'd lose everything. That he'd lose his chance at a friendship with you forever. That fear kept him quiet.

In the end, as long as you were by his side, and he was by yours, he was content. Your friendship meant the world to him, and that was enough.

~~~

Staring up at the graying sky before him, Tyler stood with his hands on his hips. It was a great day for tornado chasing and the one that he had his eyes on seemed like it was going to be a good one. He loved the adrenaline that came with chasing tornadoes, the rush he felt.

Walking across the field, he made his way back over to the motel where he was staying with the team. Spotting Dani and Dexter at the camper van, he gave them a grin as he walked over.

"Hey, it seems like we got one west of us," He gestured to the large, gloomy patch of clouds miles away.

Sitting in two camper chairs, Dani and Dexter exchanged glances. Dani shrugged, "I think we're good on this one."

"Yeah, I've got some work to do, thanks, Tyler." Dexter spoke, with his own grin.

Tyler hummed, eyeing them suspiciously before he headed off to one of the motel rooms. Knocking, he waited until Lily opened the door.

Rubbing her eyes, she seemed tired, a small yawn leaving her. "Hey, Tyler, what's up?" She pivoted her weight, leaning on the doorway.

"There's the beginnings of a tornado in the west. Dexter and Dani ain't joinin'. Just seein' if you'd want to."

"Uh," She winced, rubbing her temple, "I think I'll pass on this one, T, sorry. I think I'm gonna have a 'me day.' There’s a jacuzzi calling my name."

Tyler shook his head, "Nah, yeah, I totally get it. See ya later." He grinned, despite his growing confusion, giving the young woman a wave before he headed over to Boone's motel room a few doors down. Repeating his action, Tyler knocked on the door, and the charismatic tornado chaser answered. "Hey, Boone, there's a tornado in the west. Want to test out some of those new fireworks?"

At the drop of Boone's grin, Tyler's hopes of his best friend joining him on this tornado chase dropped. "Sorry, T, you know I would love to test out fireworks any day, but, uh, you see, I have to, uh... Feed my cat." At that, Boone shut the door, leaving Tyler to stare at it.

'Boone doesn't have a cat.' He thought. 'What's he hidin'?' Now, thinking about it, all of them - Dani, Dexter, Lily, and Boone have been acting strange. He even doubted Ben would want to join in after everything that happened a few years back. Yeah, he was getting better and was somewhat used to tornado chasing at this point - having decided to move from London to the States, but he always rode with Dani and Dexter when they chased.

Well, there was only one person left to ask, and Tyler really hoped that you would want to join him. Even the thought of possibly spending more time with you - alone - tornado chasing - made that confused frown slip back into a grin. Reaching your door, he didn't hesitate to knock, hearing shuffling on the other side before you opened the door. Your eyes brightened upon meeting Tyler's gaze, your smile widening.

"Hey, Ty, good morning," You greeted him,

"Good mornin', sweetheart," He greeted as he leaned against the doorway, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. "There's a tornado west of us. Wanna join me?"

Your eyes lit up, "Of course!" You exclaimed, fumbling slightly as you walked back into the motel room, grabbing your camera, "Is the rest of the team coming?"

Tyler shook his head, "Nope, it'll just be us today."

Looping the camera's strap around your neck with one hand, you waved the other in the air, letting out a 'pfft.' "Their loss. More tornado for us." Tyler's grin widened, and off the two of you went.

The truck jostled as Tyler suddenly veered off the dusty, dirt path and into the tall grass; racing towards the swirling dark clouds ahead. The speakers were practically turned all the way up, playing 'Ain't No Love In Oklahoma.' One of your favorite songs. You held onto the handle on the truck's door, mumbling to the song, your eyes trained on the clouds as they began to spiral toward the ground - creating a funnel - before touching down; creating a cloud of dirt, dust, and grass.

"Woo-hoo!" Tyler cheered, your laughter of excitement mixing with his.

Tyler glanced over at you as you got your camera ready, and unbuckled yourself from your seat; an amused grin forming on his lips. Quickly rolling down the window, you pushed yourself up and pressed your knee into the passenger seat. With half of your body leaning out of the window, your stomach pressing against the window's ledge, the rapid winds rustled through your hair; a laugh bubbled out of you, eyes closed.

Tyler smiled to himself. Reaching out to place his hand on your waist, a finger hooking onto one of the loops of your jeans; something that he'd always done during the countless times you pulled the stunt. The simple, protective action always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Raising your camera, you snapped a few pictures. Slipping back into your seat, you buckled back up, looking over at Tyler, who was already looking at you. A wide, toothy smile spread across his face at the sight of you; your hair a mess from the wind, the bright smile on your face, wearing his 'Not My First Tornadeo' shirt. His heart skipped a beat.

Returning his eyes to the tornado, he pulled up right into its path. Activating the augers, he anchored the truck to the ground. You then flipped up the three switches, your finger hovering over the 'boom' button as you waited for the right moment. The tornado made its way towards the both of you, shaking the truck, bits of dirt, rain, and whatnot hitting the windows; the powerful force of the twister was loud and clear to hear. It was a continuous roar that reminded you of a freight train or jet engine.

Tyler let out another round of hootin' and hollerin', as you pressed the button. Fireworks - of multiple colors - shot up the middle of the tornado. You let out your own celebratory cheer, staring out the passenger window as the fireworks went off, spiraling round and round; laughing happily as the storm raged on.

Hopping out of the car as the tornado passed by, you ran around the front of the car, Tyler's arms already open and ready for when you jumped into his embrace. Your laughter rang out as Tyler spun you around a bit, before lowering you back onto your feet. Watching the tornado slowly spin out of existence, your face hurt from how hard you were smiling. Tyler wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to his side, before leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

"Yeah," You let out a sigh of content, "They missed out big time."

"They sure did, she was a beaut," Tyler answered, watching the last wisps of dust and dirt from the tornado disperse into the horizon. "I'm glad you came along with me."

"Of course," You spoke, looking up at him with a smile, "I love chasing tornadoes with you."

He flashed a cheeky grin, "Well, who wouldn’t love chasin' tornadoes with the 'YouTube-famous Tornado Wrangler'?"

Giving him a look, you crossed your arms, and smirked, "I'm starting to think your ego is the real storm here."

"Ya wound me, sweetheart." He pressed a hand to his chest, making you roll your eyes playfully. "Ya hungry?" He then suddenly asked, resting his hands on his hips.

Taking a step closer, you looked up at him - a mischievous expression appeared on your face. Tyler felt his breath hitch in his throat, his cheeks flushing a faint pink at the proximity between you, but he quickly cleared his throat, regaining his composure; hopefully you hadn't noticed.

"Starved," You admitted, before reaching up and snatching his cowboy hat off his head.

"Hey!" He called out in mock anger, laughter escaping him as he watched you run back to the passenger side of the truck and place his hat on your head. He followed, jogging to the driver’s side, another wave of excitement washing over him.

~~~

That following week, after chasing a dozen or so tornados, an F4 tornado was heading for a small town a couple of miles from where you, Tyler, and the rest of the team were staying. It had popped up on the scanner, and you all weren't going to sit around and not help. So, the seven of you got into the truck, van, and camper, heading towards the small town that was right in the path of this insanely powerful tornado.

Entering the town, you could see the tornado fast approaching in the near distance. Everyone got out of the vehicles, rushing up to help those who were panicking and hadn't found shelter as the winds picked up; dirt and debris flying everywhere as the tornado grew closer to the town. You and Tyler stuck together, helping lead people into a building with a basement.

Quickly surveying the town around you, you pushed your hair away from your face. But upon spotting a child - no more than seven or eight years old - looking around for her mother, terrified; you had to act. "I'll be right back!" You yelled over to Tyler, over the storm, who turned to you with wide, panicked eyes. "Don't worry," You assured him, though you knew that was a stupid thing to request of him to do. There was always worrying in this world, with this life. "I got this."

Tyler tried to push his worries away, watching as you ran off. Letting out a deep sigh, he grabbed the building’s door, “You do got this.” He spoke to himself, before using his strength to shut the door.

Running back out into the streets, you glanced at the tornado, which was at this point ripping pieces off of buildings with its strength. Spotting the child, you rushed over towards her. Hopping over a fallen piece of something metal, not even noticing as something sharp flew through the air and cut your cheek. Adrenaline and fear filled you as you took the young girl's hand. Your eyes then scanned around you, spotting another building.

"Come on," You spoke to the girl, quickly leading her to the nearby building. You did your best to shield her with your body, the door of the building flying open from the force of the wind. Pulling the door closed, you realized the place didn't have a basement. Just your luck. Thankfully, you both found a small closet and there, you both ducked. The little girl curled up into you, as your arms wrapped around her, protecting her from everything and anything. "We're gonna be okay." You muttered, your breathing heavy as the tornado rumbled outside; a rumble that could be felt, shaking the building, and the Earth, as it passed.

The roaring then turned into silence, and all you could hear was yours and the little girl's heavy breathing. Blinking open your eyes, you looked down at the little girl, seeing that she seemed okay, minus the obvious trauma. Exiting the closet, and what little remained of the building, you held the girl's hand as you stepped back onto the street.

"Mary!" You heard a woman's voice, spotting the little girl's mother running down the street.

"Momma!" She cried back, letting go of you to run into her mother's arms.

You smiled, happy that they were both alright and reunited. Trying to spot your friends, your eyes landed on each one of them - they all seemed alright as well - a breath of relief leaving your chest. And only when your eyes began to frantically search for Tyler, did you feel the sharp sting on your cheek. Raising your hand, you hissed as you pressed your pointer and middle finger against the cut on your cheek, pulling your hand back to see the blood on your fingers; feeling it trickling down your neck.

"Y/N!" You heard Tyler's voice call out, his figure coming into view as he left the building he was in, ragged, heavy breathing; his own eyes were frantic as he searched for you. Your heartbeat quickened, and your eyes widened.

"Tyler!" You shouted, racing towards him, his head whipping around at the sound of your voice. He rushed over to you and as soon as you reached him, he wrapped you up in his arms, holding you tight and close to his chest.

You pressed your face into his maroon shirt, your hands clutching tightly to the material of it, tears burning your eyes as you tried to control your breathing.

‘He’s okay… He’s okay…’

Pulling back slightly, Tyler's eyes landed on the cut on your cheek, seeing the trail of drying blood trailing down your neck. "You're hurt." He spoke, his voice low and soft, concern evident in his eyes; his hand raised to cup your uninjured cheek.

"It's just a scratch," You muttered, looking up at him, your hand coming up to cover his hand on your cheek. "Are you okay?" You then asked, your worried gaze flickering around his face before returning to his eyes. “You're not hurt?”

Looking back at you, Tyler swallowed thickly before nodding, "Yeah, I'm fine, just a couple bumps and bruises, but..," His one hand on your waist tightened, bringing you closer to him, "Are you sure you're alrigh'?"

You gave him a small - hopefully reassuring - smile, nodding, "I'm alright, Ty."

Yeah, you were alright. The scratch wasn't anything too serious, it wouldn't even leave a scar, but as Tyler looked down at you, all he could think about was the possibility of losing you. It was a risk that came with tornado chasing, and he knew that, but it killed him inside knowing that if anything ever happened to you... He couldn’t even finish that thought, instead digging his nose into your hair, he shut his eyes. Letting out a deep sigh as he pulled you back into his arms.

~~~

Tyler found you sitting out on the top of his truck that night. You were staring up at the stars in the sky, watching as they flickered; trying to spot a few constellations. You'd often stargaze after chasing exceptionally dangerous tornadoes, Tyler had come to find out over the years. Seeing the destruction they caused... Seeing how quickly everything disappeared in a blink of an eye; stargazing helped with the anxiety and the sense of helplessness you felt, it seemed.

Feeling the truck jostle, you turned your head to watch as Tyler hopped up on the truck's roof with you. Observing the side of his face, you noticed his hat was gone, probably left in his motel room. His dirty blonde hair was somewhat ruffled, strands falling in front of his forehead a bit. His green eyes meeting yours, he gave you a small smile. "What ya did back there," He began, his voice soft as to keep the somewhat peaceful atmosphere from dissipating, "Was really brave."

You pursed your lips, nodding, turning back to stare at the stars, "I couldn't just stand there." You began, the level of your voice matching his, "She looked so scared."

Tyler reached out and gently took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You did more than most people would, sweetheart," His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand. "Your instinct to help, even when it was dangerous, shows just how incredible you are." You looked up at him, the corner of your lip twitched up into a small, appreciative smile; feeling his words warm your heart.

"Thank you, Tyler. You’re pretty incredible too." Tyler gave you a small smile in return before his eyes dropped down to stare at the square-patch bandage - partially hidden behind your hair - covering the scratch you got hours earlier.

The smile on his face shifted and was replaced with a frown; he knew he shouldn't feel like it was all his fault, but still. His stomach churned uncomfortably, a strange sense of guilt flooding him as he remembered the events of earlier that day, remembering the pained expression on your face when Dexter cleaned and bandaged your cut.

Reaching out, he brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear; his fingers just grazing the bandage before he let out a deep sigh. Cupping the back of your head, his fingers laced through your hair. All the while, you held your breath, unable to look away from him. Dropping his head, he pressed his forehead against yours, shutting his eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart,"

"It's not your fault, Ty." You breathed out, shutting your own eyes, your hand coming up to cup his cheek; your thumb brushing across his stubble. "You've got nothing to worry about."

"Can't help but worry," He let out a wistful chuckle. "I don't know what I'd do if anything were to happen to you..."

"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you either." You replied softly, pulling back slightly as he opened his eyes.

Suddenly, it felt like all of your senses had been heightened. You became so aware of how close you and Tyler's faces were to each other. His face was so close to yours, that you could practically count his lashes as they fluttered; half-lidded. His lips were slightly agape, slow bursts of air escaping them. His scent - dirt, cologne, and leather was intoxicating. How his hand was still holding yours, warming you. And how his fingers were still in your hair, his thumb brushing back and forth on your neck - soothing, almost lovingly... And with the way he was looking at you… Oh, how he was looking at you. You felt your heart beating - pounding - in your chest.

"Is it crazy to say that I really want to kiss ya righ' now?" He then asked suddenly, his voice low, husky; his tongue running along his bottom lip briefly. A shiver ran down your spine as your heartbeat increased, and goosebumps appeared on your arms. You were surprised, to say the least. You didn't think that Tyler would like you back. And yet he was asking if he could kiss you. Though, at your silence, Tyle continued, "I- I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to ruin this. What we got... What we got right here is good."

"Tyler," You muttered, you could practically feel how nervous he was, but you were nervous too, "You won’t. You won't mess this up."

Letting out a somewhat shaky breath, the soft pad of your thumb brushing against his cheek grounded him. "Ya sure?"

You gave him a shy smile, "Absolutely sure."

Searching your eyes, slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in; his breath mingling with yours. Wetting his bottom lip once more, you both closed your eyes as you tilted your head upward; his soft lips met yours. Letting out a sigh, you practically melted. Your hand on Tyler's cheek slid back, wrapping itself around the base of his neck - your fingers tangling themselves into his hair there. Tyler was sure that this was heaven.

Tyler broke the kiss moments later, leaning his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. "God... I've been wantin' to do that for a while."

You chuckled, your cheeks burning, "Me too."

Pulling back, that same mischievous look appeared in his eyes, "I mean, who wouldn't? I'm a tornado wrangler." He spoke cockily but jokingly, making you huff out a laugh and roll your eyes.

"Annnnd moment ruined," You sighed dramatically, making Tyler let out a boisterous laugh. "Again, your ego is unbelievable." You shook your head, smiling at him; your gaze trailing over his features.

His laughter died down, pulling you into his side, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm sorry," He muttered into your hair, "Would some pizza make up for my egotistical behavior?"

You looked up at him with your own playful smirk. "Hmm, pizza might help..," You trailed off, leaning forward to press a peck to his lips before hopping off the roof of the truck.

With a love-sick grin on his face, Tyler followed after you, opening the passenger side door for you as you hopped in. Once he was in the driver's seat, he placed the keys into the ignition and put the truck in reverse; speeding out of the motel parking lot and onto the road.

~~~

That following day, you, Tyler, and the rest of the team headed north, where the beginnings of a tornado were forming. The chase was epic, and the viewers on the YouTube channel were loving all the live footage. It had been a good, successful day. That night, you all sat around the campfire in your camp chairs. Boone, Dani, Lily, Dexter, Ben, and Tyler, were all laughing about something. In the background, there was music playing from Tyler's truck, mixed with the sound of chirping crickets in the wilderness.

You exited your hotel room, walking down the metal motel stairs, "Hey! Guess who finally decided to join us?" Dani called out, your presence gaining everyone's attention.

"Missing out on the fun, we found Boone's secret stash of marshmallows." Lily spoke up, waving her stick with a toasted marshmallow stabbed on top of it.

Boone huffed, rolling his eyes, "I was going to share them." He faux angrily bit into his marshmallow.

Walking past the fire, you headed straight towards Tyler, seeing the smile on his face brighten at the sight of you. "Sorry I wasn't able to join in sooner," You apologized, as Tyler’s hands cupped your waist, gently pulling you into his lap, "I had to shower the tornado off of me."

The group fell into silence, all five of them narrowing their eyes and staring at both you and Tyler, suspicious; analyzing. You often sat on Tyler's lap, but this was different. The way your arm was resting behind his shoulders, your fingers brushing through the hair on the nape of his neck. The way his arm was wrapped around your hips, keeping you close to him; his thumb brushing along the material of your jeans. But, the easiest tell that something was definitely different, was the way you were both looking at each other when your eyes met.

The group shared knowing glances with each other, smiling, grinning, before they all looked at Tyler and you. And finally, Lily spoke, "Did he finally tell you?" She asked, her eyes wide and a bright smile on her face at just the thought that maybe - finally - Tyler confessed after all these years.

Biting your bottom lip, you glanced down at Tyler, who had already been looking at you. Shrugging, you couldn't stop the smile from appearing on your face, "Maybe," You began, chuckling when the group cheered.

"Finally!" Dani exclaimed, gesturing to the two of you, "We've been waiting forever. And Boone," Dani looked over at the young man sitting across the circle they had made with their chairs, "You owe me twenty bucks."

Raising an eyebrow, Tyler chuckled, "You bet on us?"

Boone nodded, begrudgingly handing Dani the twenty-dollar bill. "Yeah, I thought you'd confess back when you both went on that tornado chase a couple of weeks back."

"Wait a minute..," Tyler began, narrowing his eyes at his friends, "That day when you all made up excuses..? Really?" His tone of voice was full of amusement; his lips twitching upwards.

Dexter shrugged, "That was the only way we could get you alone together. We knew you were going to crack sooner or later. It has been... What? Three years? What a whirlwind."

Shaking your head, you laughed quietly, "I can't believe you guys," You said, only for Lily to lean forward in her seat.

“Congratulations,” Ben spoke up from his seat, and you gave the journalist a smile.

“Thanks, Ben.”

"Yeah, we're happy for you two," She started, giving you a warm smile. "It was meant to be."

Letting out a sigh, you smiled softly, looking back at Tyler, "Meant to be." You muttered, repeating her words.

Tyler smirked, taking your hand in his free one, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Looking up at you with such intensity that made your stomach flip, he spoke again, "I like the sound of that."

~~~

Main Masterlist | Twisters Masterlist

#cute #fluff #x reader #slight angst #fanfiction #fanfic #x you #x y/n #x female reader #twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x female reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x y/n #glen powell #glen powell x reader #friends to lovers

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defuckingthrone-dot-com · 2 days ago

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A Dirty Wedding Affair 🌴🌅

Summary: Just a quick little blurb about having a One Night Stand with Noah

Pairing: Noah x Reader

TW: Sex p in v, oral sex.

A/N: Ever since i saw this picture i thought of this scenario. I talked to @concretejunglefm about it she actually contributed to some of the ideas here. also, title by her! Any way enjoy! xx.

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

I really don't know how I got involved in this situation, I was always careful with things like this. Actually when I think about it, it wasn't really my style to do this type of thing. But here I was hiding behind a damn palm tree decoration on a small reception of this Hotel. I was trying to not get noticed by the guy whose bed I left this morning before he actually woke up. The walk of shame back to my room felt a little too real, and I guess I wasn't hiding hard enough because from the corner of my eyes I saw him walk up with a big smirk on his face.

“Are you really trying to hide behind that flimsy excuse of a palm tree?” he asked with a little bit of laughter in his tone.

“Who me? No, No why would i??” i said a bit too rushed

“Maybe because you sneaked out this morning” I wasn't expecting for him to call me out like that but he was right, i felt embarrassed and i didnt want him to see me.

“yeah um i'm sorry?” i didn't know if apologizing would make the situation better but i tried anyway,

His gaze lingered a little too long before he left a subtle laugh “Yeah it's good I ran into you, you forgot this Pixie..”i didn't have time to dwell on the fact he called me Pixie just like he moaned last nice with a few other choice of words because he was already pulling out the same lace pair of panties i was wearing when i entered his room last night from his front pocket.. “Didn't want you to lose them so I kept them safe.”

All the blood in me crept onto my cheeks and I can confidently say that I wasn't blushing anymore, I was bleeding red. I realized what was happening and in one quick move I snatched the panties from his hand.

You're probably wondering how I got here? Well, I'll have to relieve the last 72 hrs for you to understand, so here i go!

It all started when I arrived here, this wasn't a vacation per say but I did plan on having the most fun I could before I had to go back to boring reality back home. My best friend from childhood was getting married this weekend. She had chosen to get married at the beach, which was great for me. I loved the tropical weather and I could enjoy a bit more tanning.

The first time I saw him I was laid in a lounge chair by the pool. I was grabbing the the book i was reading in one hand and a glass of lemonade on the other, i saw walk in front of me and walk around the edge of said pool to reach the other side, he was with what assume to be his friends, i vaguely remember thinking how i did have Maid of Honor duties to fulfill but not until later that night so stayed a little too long in my spot.

I saw how his colorful tattoos shined under the water with the sun hitting them. he had a little bun of hair on the top of his, and he seem to be just about the tallest man i ever seen, The most gorgeous brown that have ever crossed paths with me,

He seemed like a lot of fun, and started from my seat. I was wearing sunglasses and half of them covered my face. I thought I was being cautious and not obvious but when he turned to look my way an almost hazy took over me.

Luckily he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at one of his friends that was passing by me going towards him.

I didn't want to seem like a creep so I decided to just get up and go back into my room. I would be lying if I thought he was very attractive but way out of my league but I probably would never see him again so why even bother thinking such a thing.

The second encounter was by the bar just down the street of the hotel. I probably shouldn't have drank anything before the wedding but I fear I was more nervous than the actual bride. I wanted to take a shot or two before I had to be back to get ready. i sat at one end of the bar when i saw him reaching the other end, he sat down and other his drink,

He was alone this time, i tried not look his way as the bartender put my vodka soda in front of me and maybe i was being paranoid but i could sense his eyes on me, I pulled out my cell phone from my phone and decided to scroll just so i could have something to do and not look dumb. After about of 10 minutes i decided it was time to go i paid for my drinks at headed,

Once again this was the last time i would probably see him but was i so wrong,

The wedding had started and everything was going to plan. The music started playing and as the maid of honor I made my way down the aisle to stand by the sidelines. As my best friend walked down the most beautiful princess and the emotions started to come afloat I saw him once again. He was sitting in the 3rd row of chairs.

My eyes grew wide, I didn't know why I felt the tension, I haven't even crossed words with him once so it was a bit dumb for me to feel this way. I couldn't run so I was just still until the ceremony had ended, But i could tell even by the side of my eye that at that point he was looking at me with a small smile.

After the beautiful ceremony and my sweat induced head we moved to where the location for the party would be.

I was having such a good time, I mingled amongst the guests, everything was going perfect and I couldn't be more happy for my best friend Bailey. I didn't want my social battery to run out and as the liquid in my glass, I made my way down to the bar. I ordered a vodka soda and as I reached for it and turned around I nearly fell on my ass, I bumped into someone and it almost made my drink spill on my dress. I didn't pay attention to who was standing in front of me as I was trying to clean with my hands the small droplets that did manage to land on my dress.

“If i didn't know any better i would think you are stalking me” i heard a voice.

“what..? i don't even know who..” as i looked up to meet his eyes i saw who exactly it was “are…” my voice started to windle down.

“3 times in the span of 48 hours seems like a very unlikely crazy coincidence”

“i don't know what you mean” i tried to stay confidently

“3 times, darling, 1. by the pool, 2. at the bar down the street this morning and 3. this wedding” he must sense the sheer panic and embarrassment in my eyes “you know i'm just kidding right?” he let out a soft laugh.

“...yeah, yeah of course!” I said with a shaky laugh.

“if were going to keep running into each other it's best i introduce my self, Im Noah”

“im y/n”

“pretty name for a pretty girl”

“Uh thanks” I didn't know where to look. I was a bit shocked to actually be talking to him.

“So Maid of honor huh?” he asked intrigues.

“Yeah me and the bride we go way back, weve been bestfriends for years” i said preparing to ask him a question, “and you? Who do you know from here?”

“The groom, we have worked together a few times” he replied back.

“So you're in the music industry, do you like sound tech or something?” i asked

He stared at me as if i was saying something so out of the box “Not exactly, i'm in a band, and the groom has helped me and band out a lot”

“Ah that makes sense”

We decided to move our conversation over to the table where the rest of his band mates were seated. it scared me a bit how natural the conversation flowed. I was having a really good time with him and the night was almost coming to an end.

By this time both the bride and groom had already left and retreated back to their room, the only people left were the waiter cleaning up the mess and Noah and I.

“So do you maybe want to go back to my room and chill for a bit..i mean if you would like of course” he asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes,

I hesitated for a bit, but after a moment I thought nothing wrong could go bad.

“yeah sure that sounds great”

We walked down the long hallways of the hotel to catch the elevator, we both knew there was a sexual tension between us and as soon as the doors closed to start ascending the correct floor, his lips were on mine. A sweet slow passionate kiss, where his tongue andmine where dancing in unison

The elevator door couldn't open fast enough, and a brief second we were already outside his door. He struggled to get his key card out of his pocket and as soon as the door he led me over to his bed. He laid me down while he balanced his wight on top of mine

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked

All i could do was nod, I was too far in and too intrigued on his bedroom skills to say no.

He took over my mouth once more, another kiss, this one more chaotic and wild then the last. He started to slowly pull down the straps of my dress while I in a frantic motion fought to get his pants unbuttoned.

Clothes started to fly around the room, my dress flew on the floor while my lace panties and bra ended on the side table. His button down shirt somehow made its way on top of the lamp that was sitting on the table in front of the bed, his pants and belt landing with a loud thud on the floor.

And just like that we were both naked. lost in the heat of the moment, Once his lips left mine, he started to leave a trail of tiny kisses from my jawline, down my neck, through the valley of my breast. He made a little pit stop at my navel to situate himself between my legs. Once he did so he picked right up where he left off.

He overlooked my core to also kiss the inner part of my thighs. I was already high due to his touch. He locked down at my core and looked like the most starved man on earth about to eat a full course meal.

“Pretty pink pussy darling, and you're already so wet” he said as he licked his lips “may i?”

Once again all I could do was nod. He dove in and once his tongue made contact with my click and a sweet little moan escaped from my mouth. He lapped a few more times at my pussy before he detached and sent me into oblivion with his fingers. One finger in, slowly taking it in and out, two fingers in, he started to increase the pace of what he was doing.

He reached just the right spot a few more times of thrusting in and out.

“ Noah oh god i'm gonna…” I said in almost a whisper.

“No no no Pixie you're not gonna cum until I tell you to, understood?’

“yees”

In one swift motion he turned me around, I was now on all four and waiting for his next move. I heard the sound of a condom wrapper opening. and from what i could tell he rolled it on this cock with ease.

“hold on tight darling”

All I could grab was the pillow beside. He did not give me any sort of warning in a matter of seconds he was inside of me. Thrusting in full force. All I could think of unironically was the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails in my head; because what the song was describing was what Noag was doing to me. Fucking me like an animal.

Fast paced, hazy eyes and the smell of raw contact. He slowed down only to catch his breath.

“ah ah Noah..” the moans were escaping my mouth, unable to control them. “It feels so good.”

:”Pixie you're so tight.. So fitting… sooo” Once final thrust in and we were both seeing stars.

He collapsed on top of me while we both tried to catch our breaths. It was the most exhilarating and mind blowing orgasm that i have had.

We took a small 15 minute break to hydrate and decompose before we were at it again. By the 3rd round i was so exhausted in the best way possible that i knew come the morning it would hurt to move. The ache of my muscles started to set in and as we laid there naked and vulnerable, My eyes started to close slowly and I succumbed to sleep , no longer fighting it.

By the time I had woken up the sun had already risen, I took notice of my surroundings, slowly taking my gaze through the room until they landed on the spot on the bed next me.

There he laid asleep covered with a simple white sheet from his waist down, His tattoos brighter than i've seen them the last 3 days. Panic set in my gut, when I looked at my own body, I was completely naked. I scrambled to get off the bed and look for my clothes. I found my dress and my bra but nowhere insight into where my panties would be. I didn't want to wait around for Noah to wait up and kick me out of his room, so I put on what I did find and took my heels in my hand and slowly and quietly made my way to my room.

Now fast forward to this afternoon where I was face to face again with him.

“thanks for keeping them… safe.. you know?” i sad blushing and putting them in my purse

“No problem darling, i have a feeling this won't be the last time we run into each other” he said walking away only to turn around in a moment and wink at me.

I couldn't help but let out a little laugh because I too believed this wasn't going to be the last time we would cross paths..

#noah sebastian #noahsebastian #noah thots #noah fan fic #noah smut #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens noah #thots 🔥

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really-burnt-toast · 5 hours ago

Note

Hi! Can you tell us more about your head canons for Fena and the other special followers you drew a bit back?

You don't know how excited I was to answer this! 🙏

Please allow me to ramble a little, because I decided Im going to go through every NPC / OC I made for cotl, specifically my au!

These are them all! I decided to finally get around to drawing Echo, Latra and the concept for Nalen too!

Imma be writing down a brief history of them along with fun facts/head canons (who are technically canon).

(all of that under cut, tw; mentions of abuse and death) (I may have missed something. Also brief mention of fertility struggles.)

Fena

Let's start with Fena first, cuz she's a fan favorite!

Fena was born in Darkwood within a big family that was traditional and mainly worshipped the old faith for protection. Their village was often the target of wolves (who have connections to the teeth in the darkness). During one of these attacks, the Villagers had to evacuate and thus, Fena's family were forcefully split up. Fena and their sibling had to spend days trying to get to another village, but were caught at night once again. Fena managed to get "rescued" by the old faith - only to be offered as a sacrifice to Leshy. Mellia (my Lamb) saved her. Fena is currently the head of disciples and Loyalty enforcement.

Fun facts: Fena is a trans woman. Fena was once married to Thorantre but got divorced. Fena is Mellia's favorite follower. Fena's sibling was later rescued by the Lamb. Fena has Cynophobia (fear of dogs and canines), but it's most aggressive against Wolves. Fena currently thinks Thyma is a spy.

Other hcs: Jumpy, definitely the type to get scared and then act all tough. Loves her body and is a proud lust rite champion (why she wears a flower crown). Unhealthily cautious. Horrible at flirting. Would probably crack someone's rib while attempting to. Kinda like the thought of her getting too obsessed with finding info about Thyma and then eventually she realizes they have lots in common... Like fuck, that guy is kinda funny and cool but also, he's definitely going to kill someone.

Thyma (real name unknown)

Thyma's story, as per they claim, is;

They were raised in Darkwood by their family/pack and one day an "incident" occured which left their family dead. The Lamb rescued them and promised safety. Thyma is not willing to speak any further on it. He is currently Night patrol and trying to dispel any distrust put against him.

Fun facts: Thyma is a Demiboy, born afab. Thyma has Nyctophobia (fear of the dark) and Insomnia. They chose to be a night guard to be alert at night. They also wear the Moon necklace to be awake 24/7. If they sleep, they do so in the day. Thyma has permanent markings on his face that cannot be removed. He is medically noted to suffer from hallucinations.

(More story to be revealed soon)

Other hcs: Sarcasm king. Also King of internal panic. Definitely gets horrible period cramps. Gets sick of seeing blood. Probably tried going vegan to look less suspicious but ended up horribly sick and malnourished. Tucks tail whenever Fena is near. Besties with Agana. Acts cool and stoic but is actually kinda pathetic. Monologues to himself when patrolling. Stares at bright lights, despite being told it could blind them.

Thorantre

Thorantre was also born in Darkwood. During the Genocide, his family were often harmed due to being mistaken for Sheep-kin. After the death of multiple family members, Thorantre decided to protest against the old faith and stand for the protection of Sheep. For his spreading of "propaganda", he was going to be put to the blade but was fortunate to be trialed at the same time as Mellia was beheaded. They rescued him and he became their first ever follower.

Fun facts: Short-fused and dramatic. Has canonically killed another follower during a petty fight. Doesn't really do his job as a disciple and is only still a disciple for Mellia's sake. Often mistaken for a sheep by the Lamb in moments of unclarity - personal gossip girl and somewhat Therapist to them. Close friends with Fena despite being exes.

Other hcs: Girls girl by heart. Shameless flirt but extremely picky with partners. Divorced because he was too high maintenance. Knows of everyone's business and keeps pulling Agana into gossip. Gets annoyed when people ask him for stuff so he makes them pay him to answer. Will say the most gayest thing followed by the most straightest cis-guy take ever. Will just randomly ditch disciple meetings because he's bored. Also suspicious of Thyma but for no particular reason.

Agana

First born in the Cult, raised to become a disciple. As a child they were wild and unruly but settled down with age and is now determined to befriend every cultist.

Fun facts: Is afab genderqueer. Had a huge crush on Fena growing up. Currently has a little crush on Thyma. Is usually the first to know of ANYTHING happening in the cult, even private happenings. Will often share their own savings with children in the cult. Is pretty forgiving with Tax enforcement.

Other hcs: Chronic simp. Fandom girlie, probably. She's the type to ship people unironically. Probably saw the tension between Thyma and Fena and misinterpreted it. Says "hello fellow kids" but is actually up to date with trends. Has been trying to integrate Thyma more into the group. Probably gets the most affected by sin.

Latra

Born in Silkcradle to a family of Shamura's worshippers. Latra ran away and got married on the outskirts of the domain. Her marriage was cruel and abusive, fueled by her husband's growing rage of her infertility. Despite praying daily, no one had come to save her and so she took matters into her own hands. One night she plotted to kill her husband but was caught, resulting in a fight to the death where she was the victor. Latra dragged herself away with two of her limbs damaged beyond repair and managed to run into the Lamb. She was taken into the cult and became a Missionary, as her knowledge from Silkcradle aided her skills. She has been in the cult since the first crusade through Silkcradle and has been resurrected multiple times. Currently she is in retirement again.

Fun facts: Latra was offered a position as disciple but declined. She is known to delay retirement until physically impossible to work. She originally didn't worship the Lamb, but ended up doing so after many years of staying. Latra was one of the people to dissent from Shamura's curse. Currently engaged to Echo.

Other hcs: Has had rumors go around about her past. Has been working with children and has been helping rehabilitate rescues. Has babysat a few times before. Actually great at flirting but prefers pulling dad jokes and bad flirts. Wanted children but gave up on it due to her age. Actually best friends with the Lamb. Only didn't accept discipleship because she is worried about her own reputation straining Mellia's reputation.

Echo

Born in Anchordeep before it had that name and before Kallamar had the crown. Experienced first hand his climb for power and the subsequent events that shaped the downfall of the old faith. Was also a disciple for a short while before becoming a field medic during the genocide of Sheep kind. Echo married the general of their group and the two along with a troop were sent to patrol Anchordeep. That continued even after Mellia was resurrected and started killing the bishops. Once Kallamar started growing paranoid and cowardly, Echo started to question the strength of their god. That was met with backlash and after a huge fight in the group, Echo stayed back a bit. Eventually they found their group having been attacked by the Lamb and Echo mercy killed whoever was still alive. Echo dissented against Kallamar and was later found by Latra during a Mission. Echo was indoctrinated and became the cult nurse.

Fun facts: Echo is intersex. Echo is considered to be mute, but has the ability to talk. They only talk to Latra, Mellia and Kallamar (to screw with him). Echo is widely known to be an asshole, but is the most respected nurse in the cult. Echo suffers from mild PTSD. Is currently Latra's personal caretaker and has been trying to convince her to accept the golden skull necklace Mellia offered her (which is included in discipleship).

Other hcs: Fell in love after having to pull an arrow from Latra's shoulder. Has to go in evacuation after being flirted with because they are worried they'll explode (they won't). Academically smart but Interpersonally stupid. Can communicate with sign language but rather uses their expressions to communicate their opinions. Had begged multiple times for Mellia to resurrect Latra whenever she died. Has been secretly trying to figure out an early form of Fertility treatments in order to grant Latra the wish of having children. Also has been looking into adopting.

Nalen (real name unknown)

(This character is currently still a character concept and might change with time.)

Born and raised in the Lands of the old faith after the Bishops had already died. He was raised as a pup to become a spy that would sneak into the Red crowns cult to find any special information that could allow the old faith to overthrow them. He managed to sneak in during a time where the cult was facing a hectic time - entering with a group of people who were starving and asking to be indoctrinated. Able to avoid detection for a full two years now due to building trust and reliability, building relationships and faking worship. His mind hasn't even been read once yet due to Mellia struggling with their new godhood. Perfect time, perfect alibi.

Fun facts: I don't really have any yet, so I'll offer the description of the concept; I wanted a spy character that looks like they could just be any other cultist and who's a species that's both unassuming but reliable and easily trainable. So the golden retriever it was. And while all followers of the Lamb have a red base, his base colour was dark purple.

(same with hcs, but you know the stories of band kids just pretending to play the instrument all year? Kinda that. Him praying and just mumbling the words bc he has no clue what's going on. It's a miracle he made it this far.)

(Also, sorry for the lack of pictures but I got too impatient and wanted to answer as quickly as possible LOL)

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl fanart #cotl au #cotl three times #cotl oc #reallyburntrambles

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theemissuniverse · 24 hours ago

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“CRAZY STUPID THING CALLED LOVE” HENRY HART X SUNSHINE FEM!READER PART 1

SUMMARY : Kid Danger saves you from a robbery and can’t help but flirt with you, a stranger. But…maybe you do know him? (Both are 18 and in senior year of high school. I think only once mention of y/n)

A/N : I actually am proud of this. I think I really captured Henry and Kid Danger his alter ego really well while making it entertaining. Part 2 will be soon.

MASTERLIST

You probably shouldn’t be walking by yourself, alone in the dark. Swellview wasn’t exactly the safest place in the world with all the crime happening in town. You didn’t have a choice though. Getting a job to help your mother pay for the bills was something you just had to do. You were a waitress at a small diner in town and only made eight dollars an hour. The tips were barley dimes but it was putting food on the table.

Working was actually really good for you. It made you get out the house and get a breath of fresh air. The only thing you didn’t appreciate were the gross and quite frankly bold men that were willing to hit on an eighteen year old.

Juggling school and work wasn’t hard for you either. You were incredibly smart and because of you taking all the required classes in your freshman year, your senior year was flying by in a freeze.

The night was a cold one. You were so exhausted that you had left your jacket back at your job. The goosebumps ran down your arm and the hair stood still. The full moon was bright, beaming on your skin. You would’ve appreciated its beauty if it wasn’t so damn cold.

While you were walking, you saw a man walking towards you. You couldn’t really make out his face with the hood and it being dark. He wore all black clothing too. All you could tell was that he was a tall man.

“Hey, baby let me take you out in a date.”

You cringed at the grown man cat calling you. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to it. It didn’t matter though. You had to power through. You still had a ten minute walk to go.

“No thank you.” You tried to sound cheerful and polite as you made your way past him but he wasn’t going for it.

“I said let me take you.” He grabbed your forearm, keeping you in place. You hissed at the grip and he only made it tighter. He was starting to freak you out.

“Let me go, please.”

The man didn’t say anything. He looked down to your purse, eyeing it intensely before deciding to make the decision to grab it.

Honestly, it may have been stupid to fight him on the purse. Most people would say it isn’t worth your life. Well, to you, it was. That was all you had and you had to get it to your mother.

“Hey! Give it back!” You grabbed your purse but he still had all his strength on the purse.

“Let go, bitch!”

He smacked you across the face, making you fall down. You hit the concrete hard. It was as through the blood was going to your head because you felt dizzy.

Right when he was about to get away, you started to hear choking. It made you focus your eyes on him and that’s when you saw him. Kid Danger.

Kid Danger was choking the man. You never saw him so angry before. The way he was showed on the news made him seem like the funny but cool sidekick. Nothing like this.

He threw in a couple good punches at the man. While choking him. Your eyes were wide at seeing the sight. Blood was coming out the man’s mouth and nose.

After he finished, he held the man in place. The man was too out of it to fight back. “Careful. Don’t fall.” Then Kid Danger forcefully shoved him to the ground. “Aw. You forgot to be careful.”

Amazed was an understatement.

He stepped over the man’s body. Then grabbed the purse that was sitting on the ground. He walked a little ways over to you. You were waiting for him to help you up but he didn’t help you, he picked you up himself.

You were shocked at how strong he was, considering you knew Kid Danger was about your age. He held you, bridal style, looking you in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

He was a superhero. Of course he would show concern but the way he showed you concern felt like he had known you forever. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You say, still star struck at what just happened.

Kid Danger gently placed you on your feet but didn’t let go of you. His hand went to the right side of your cheek, seeing the bruise that was starting to form.

You saw the look of concern quickly turn back to anger. Again, the way he was acting was as if he knew you personally.

“I’m cool. It’s just a scratch.”

Kid Danger nodded but it looked like he wasn’t convinced. He pulled away from you slightly and handed you your purse. When he did, you instantly felt cold again. You started to hug yourself to find warmth.

“You cold?”

The voice. You didn’t know how it was familiar but it was. “A little.”

Kid Danger walked back over to the man. Then forced his jacket off of him. “Hey man that’s mine…” The man said drowsy but Kid Danger wasn’t hearing it. He immediately kicked the man in the stomach, causing him to yell in pain.

You held in your giggle but couldn’t hide your smile when he did that. He wrapped the jacket around you before helping you put your arms in.

“Um, thank you. I could’ve handled it though.” You jokingly said.

Kid Danger chuckled. He lifted your head up to examine the bruise. “Oh, yeah. I can tell.” He said before pulling away. “I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you not to lose your life over a purse.”

Again, the way he scolded you made you think as though he knew you to at least some degree. “Yeah, I know. But I really need it.”

“Must be something important in that purse.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re not the type to lose your life over something so small.”

“She is.” The robber perched up to say. Kid Danger doesn’t even bother to look at him. He takes out his laser pointer and zaps him repeatedly, putting him to sleep.

“Right…” You got back on topic. Then what he said caught your attention. “Not the type?” You asked. “You don’t know me.”

You could see the realization hit his eyes and he let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, totally. Never seen you before in my entire life.” He said then quickly reiterated what he said. “I mean, you just don’t seem like it.”

You nodded, a little skeptical but brushed it off. “Well, it has all the money I made from my job.”

“You work?” Kid Danger asked in surprise.

“Yeah.” He seemed appalled at the idea of working and you placed your hands on your hips. “You know you’re a superhero right?”

Kid Danger put up his arms, flexing his biceps playfully. “I’m gooood though, right?”

His playfulness, the way he was sassy, and the tone all reminded you of one person; Henry Hart.

Henry Hart had been in your class since Kindergarten. The two of you weren’t friends, but really good classmates and the two of you had a good relationship with each other.

But you also had a secret, you had a crush on him.

You always admired him from afar. He was funny and handsome. A guy you thought had it all but every girl in the entire school swooned over him so you never stood a chance.

Kid Danger caught you laughing and smiling which made him smile back at you. “What?”

“You just remind me of someone.”

“Insanely good looking and awesome?”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah, kinda.” You fixed the strap of your purse before extending your hand for him to shake. “I’m, (Y/N).”

Kid Danger took your hand but didn’t shake it. Instead he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles, giving you a little wink. “Nice to meet you.”

You had heard Kid Danger being flirtatious but you weren’t expecting him to be flirty with you. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you pulled your hand away from him. “Oh. Cool. Um. I should be heading home.”

You started to walk away from him but Kid Danger was right on your side, walking with you. “Cool. Lead the way.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head.

“Um, yeah I do.” He pointed to the bruise on your cheek. “I gotta save you from yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Haha. So funny.” Before he could say something, you ended up tripping on a high crack in the concrete but Kid Danger was fast. He caught you.

“Yeah, definitely gotta save you from yourself.”

You looked at him like, curiously. “How can you do that again?”

Kid Danger helped you back up and the two of you started walking again. “Hyper mobility. I got fast reflexes.”

You nodded at the explanation before sighing. “I couldn’t imagine being a hero and saving lives.”

“It’s cool. Stressful but I like helping people.”

“What made you do it anyway?”

“Well, I was looking for a job and Captain Man asked me helicopters or kangaroos, and I said helicopter.”

You gave him an unconvincing look. “You’re serious?”

The look of unbelievable made him laugh. “I know it sounds crazy but basically yeah. Being a superhero has its advantages too.”

You nodded knowingly. “I bet.”

The way you said it made him look at you. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh come on, I bet you have all the girls in town drooling over you.”

The statement made Kid Danger agree. “A lot of girls do drool over me.” Then he had realized what you said. “You saying you’re not one of them?”

“You’re not my type.” You said all with a smile.

He gave you a look like you had offended him. He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m not your type?!”

It made you laugh. “Believe it or not, Kid Danger but you’re not everyone’s type.”

“Hmm.” The two of you walked while he was in deep thought until he eventually gasped like he was a school girl. Then he jokingly hit your shoulder. “You have a crush on someone.”

Your face started to become red. Kid Danger calling you out on your crush had to be the most embarrassing thing that could happen to you. Even though you were pretty much over it. “Um…”

“You totally do. Who is it?”

“You wouldn’t even know.”

“Which is exactly why you should tell me. Where’s the harm in it?”

He was right. He wouldn’t know who it was and it’s not like he was going to go blab to the guy. You bit your lip, fighting the embarrassment that was running through you. “Just some guy at my school.”

Kid Danger seemed even more excited to know who it was. “Who is…?”

He wasn’t going to give it up. That was obvious so you gave in and told him. “Henry Hart.”

He froze. Stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden movement made you stop to. You couldn’t read any other expression besides shock. It was starting to make your heart sink. “Do you know him?”

After the question, Kid Danger quickly coughed like he was choking and shook his head. “What? No. Henry Hart? Such a dumb name.”

He started to walk again and grabbed your hand to make you start back walking. “What do you like about him?”

“Why? Do you want to date him?” You questioned sarcastically.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

You shook your head then sighed. “I don’t know. He’s funny and nice. It’s kinda hard to explain. We’ve known each other since Kindergarten. I mean the crush isn’t really a big deal. It’s starting to go away honestly.”

Kid Danger scoffed like he was offended. “Go away? What did I-i mean-what did he do to start making it go away?”

“I mean, you can’t keep liking the same guy you’ve liked since third grade. Especially the guy that doesn’t really see you.”

“He sees you.”

“How would you know?”

As the two of you walked along the street, a flower vendor was there. Kid Danger stopped in his tracks and pulled out a money clip out his pocket. Then handed the guy some money. He placed the clip back before taking a rose from the stand. He handed you the rose. “Look at you. What guy wouldn’t see you.”

‘Kid Danger? Giving me a rose? Is this really happening?’ You tried to hide your smile but couldn’t. He noticed and smiled back.

The two of you went back to walking. “If that’s the case then why hasn’t he came up to me.”

“Well…maybe it’s because he doesn’t think he has a chance.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. He has every girl at school wrapped around his finger.”

Kid Danger laughed at your comment, wiping his mouth. “I don’t think he has every girl wrapped.”

“He absolutely does.”

“Regardless…maybe it’s because you’re different. I mean, all those other girls are the same but…you’re you. And maybe he doesn’t want to mess that up.”

You listened intently on his advice trying to buy it. It could be true but you honestly didn’t think so. Henry Hart didn’t have feelings for you and that was okay. You were practically over it. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The two of you finally reached to your house. He walked you up your porch steps. “Thanks for walking me home. You didn’t have to do that.” You said while taking the jacket off and handing it to him.

Remembering it was the robber’s coat, he just threw it over his shoulder, hitting the trash can on the curb loudly. It made you shake your head. “Why do you work? Shouldn’t you be focused on school?”

“I need to help pay the bills. My mom can’t do it alone.” You saw the look of pity in his face and you sighed. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. The only bad thing about it is all the grown ass men hitting on me.”

Kid Danger’s jaw clenched. His knuckles were tight and he looked pissed. “What days you work?”

“Just Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.”

“What time?”

“3 to 12. Why?”

Kid Danger grabbed a red marker out his pocket. Then grabbed your arm. He wrote out what appeared to be a phone number on it. “Call me and I’ll walk you.”

You gave him a look as he wrote. “Um. My arm?”

When he was finished, he placed the marker back in his pocket. “Um. It washes off?” He playfully said while copying the tone of your voice.

You looked at the number and then looked back up at him. “Do you give out your number to every girl you save?”

With that question, Kid Danger just winked at you. “Only the pretty ones.”

‘Why did he have to be so flirty with me?’ You didn’t know how many times your face went red tonight with him but it had to of been the one hundredth. “Well. I better get going.”

You tried to rush in your home but he grabbed your arm to stop you. “Make sure you talk to that guy.”

“I already told you. I’m over him. Just an old crush.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

Kid Danger nodded. He took his hand from your arm. “You want to go on a date then?”

The question caught you so off guard that you almost started to choke on your own spit. “Like a coffee date or like-“

“Like the kind I give you flowers, take you to dinner, you tell me everything about yourself and then I get to kiss you at the end.”

You felt your heart beating out of your chest. You both liked how straightforward he was and hated it. There was no way Kid Danger was asking you out.

You started to laugh out nervousness. “What? Well…I mean how is that gonna work? With the whole anonymous superhero thing?”

“You let me take you out on three dates and I’ll take my mask off.”

What you weren’t understanding is why he was so eager to take you? Why did he like you so much? “I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure you got a whole line of women at your feet so I won’t be a bother. I let you go out with them.”

You turned the doorknob to your house, trying to escape the conversation but Kid Danger would not let you. He shut the door and backed up until your back hit the door. It made you drop the rose out of your hand. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

Kid Danger picked the rose up and handed it to you. “You in or not?”

With his assertiveness, you really didn’t even think you had a choice to back out. “Um…when?”

“Tomorrow. 8. Wear red. You look good in it.”

Before you could say anything, he was already walking about from you. Then you thought of something. You weren’t wearing any red. “How does he know I look good in red?”

#x reader #henry danger movie #henry danger x reader #henry danger #henry hart #henry hart x reader

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hollyhomburg · 2 days ago

Text

Prey Animals (12)

— Pairing: Yoongi x ot6, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

— Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

— Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

— Words: 7.0k

— Warnings: Abandonment, Depression, Themes of grief, Anxiety, Worry, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Things get worse before they get better

— Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! —

(The Pack, Mostly After)

He was only supposed to be gone for a few days.

To his packmates, it had felt a little like Yoongi was just distracted. They’d turn to him and find him looking at his phone or staring absentmindedly at the bright hot sun, or one of them sleeping in the nest. Or one of them brushing their teeth. “What is it?” they’d ask, and “nothing” he’d reply.

But it’s not nothing, because the next morning, Yoongi gets on a train. And then he’s just gone.

No one had thought anything of it when he’d provided an explanation for his sudden departure. Of course, they were okay with him going. Of course, Yoongi had to go. For his family, he said. An emergency. Someone was dying. Someone was hurt and Yoongi needed to say goodbye.

(Family means different things for different people and goodbyes can be said in many different ways.)

Familial packs are rare things in general. Too many families have too many packmates and too many pups that some slip through the cracks (like with Namjoon, who hardly bothers going home every few years.). But besides Jungkook and Namjoon- Yoongi is the only one with anything passable for a familial pack.

The best lies are one part lie and two parts truths. Yes, Yoongi's grandfather is dead and telling them that didn't feel like a lie. But on the other hand, saying "I'll be back in 2 weeks, maybe 3 at the most," tasted like acid on his tongue.

It’s not a lie when Yoongi looks at Jin and pouts, and blinks back tears, while he drags one of his sweatshirts up and down his throat. For Jungkook, a heavily scented item of clothing just in case his seizures get too bad while he’s gone. Even though the omega has his whole closet too.

But even if he wants to cry as he drinks in Jin getting ready for work. Fingers skimming over his meticulously organized slacks and ties, savoring his hands, his breath, his every movement. Yoongi doesn’t let himself.

Tears aren’t expected of him, it would give him away.

Instead of telling Jin or crying he says, “I’m gonna miss you.” Jin pauses, turns around to where Yoongi sits in the nest and kisses the frown off of his lips.

“I’ll drive you to the train, are you all packed? Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“I’m sure.”

Maybe looking back on it, Seokjin would recognize the heaviness in his gaze as something that wasn’t caused by an impending simple few weeks absence. The pack is used to having their nest absent of at least one packmate (Jimin has business trips sometimes, whenever his clients necessitate it). And sure, it’s going to suck to have him gone, but they’ll be alright.

(They won't be, and Yoongi knows this and leaves anyway because he doesn't have a choice.)

“I’ll call you if it's any longer, okay?” He’d kissed Seokjin so quickly. Seokjin would have pulled him in for longer if he’d known this was the last time he’d see the beta for so long. (Seokjin would have also probably tied the beta to the bed if he knew he was about to leave, but that's neither here nor there. It's not a true kink if it’s born out of desperation).

He calls Namjoon when he’s on the train. Namjoon can barely hear the betas voice over the noise in the emergency room. A three-car crash just came in and the emergency room is crowded with the scent of dying people. There is blood on the linoleum and the bottom of Namjoon’s shoes. But Namjoon picks up because he’d asked Yoongi to call him before he left.

If he had to place it, Namjoon’s not sure he could really tell the last time they’d kissed, his job keeps him away from the pack for days at a time. Coming home to sleep and shower and change and then go right back. Was it yesterday morning? Or over the three-day weekend? It had to have been sometime in between.

The static stretches between them, and Namjoon hears Yoongi’s warbly voice.

“Yoongi? I’m sorry baby but I can’t hear you?” If Namjoon had known that it was the last time he’d hear Yoongi’s voice. He’d have gone to another room. He would have begged and bartered with the powers that be. Namjoon have run out of the hospital to drag Yoongi back if he’d only known. Would have chased down the train. Namjoon is selfish, he would have rather saved Yoongi than the people dying inside his hospital.

(Or Namjoon tells himself he would, but he knows he won’t. Yoongi isn’t dying, he’s just leaving, and that’s almost worse.)

He hears static, and then disconnects the call, sending him a quick text back where he tells him he’ll call on his break (if he even gets one today). Weeks later Namjoon will sob as he realizes he never got to say a proper goodbye.

But they hadn’t known. None of them had. In later months they’ll hold onto that and hate it. “If it was the last time, we were supposed to see him- we would have felt something Minnie” Taehyung would say, always the superstitious one in their little pack. Their little family.

But Yoongi has that. Something that isn’t them. Someone that isn’t them now. It’s hard to feel like that doesn’t change anything. But it does. It really does.

Yoongi had always been so cagey about his family and had never let slip too much. The pack collect the facts that they know. No names or numbers. No identities or clues. His parents are dead like Jin’s, but he’s got an older brother he doesn’t like. Yoongi hasn’t been home since the last family funeral, since he was 18. Was practically raised by his grandparents, still alive, now dead. Both or just one? There are questions here. Questions the pack does not have answers for.

There are no numbers to call when weeks pass without any word from their beta. Only a text here and there. Jimin leaves for a business trip and comes back more somber and quieter than ever. Yoongi stops responding to their messages after the second day. And then it’s radio silence.

The day Yoongi said he would return passes without the beta showing up at their door (with flowers and an apology) and they all know something has to be wrong. Irrevocably wrong. Yoongi used to say even if he was dying in a ditch somewhere he’d still claw his way towards them.

They leave dozens of calls and voicemails, pleading with long-form texts. Some that they regret and some that ring with truth.

Koo: (8:57pm): Please, can you just tell us if you’re okay? Hyung’s are worried.

Jinnie: (12:04am): I hate you for this, I swear to God Min Yoongi if you do not call us soon, I'm going to drag you back here by your ear.

Jinnie: (12:04am): don’t even bother coming home if it’s not with chocolates and flowers and a fucking unicorn or something

Jinnie: (12:04am): I swear to God if you don’t respond soon I’ll cut holes in your underwear

Jinnie (12:05am): and your socks,

Jinnie (12:05am): and ding your records.

Jinnie: (12:05am) Yoongi please. Just tell me if you’re alive.

That, they decided, was the only explanation for it. That he was hurt- or hurting somewhere. The only other possibility is that he left them- and that just isn’t something that they can reconcile. They’d always counted on one truth; that Yoongi loved them and now not even that seems true.

At first, every call to Yoongi’s phone goes to voicemail until the box is full and then it just beeps dolefully until the number gets disconnected on the third week. Jungkook doesn’t want to hear “This number is no longer connected to a cellular device” anymore. He just wants to hear the voice of his beta. Misses it. He tries to be strong for the others, but Jimin still catches him sniffing over his phone late at night, watching old videos of the 7 of them. The rest of the pack can’t bear to watch them.

Hoseok doesn’t even listen to music anymore. He spends his commute to the record store with his headphones left behind. Collecting dust on the bedside table. Unused and unwanted. Every song reminds him of Yoongi.

After the first month of silence, they have to address the possibility that Yoongi might not be coming back.

Maybe he was trying to let them down gently. Maybe Yoongi had found a new pack and moved on to them. Maybe he had decided that their pack was complete enough without him. Maybe being gone for his grandparents was just a lie- it had to be. If that was the truth- then why doesn't he just call.

It would be a simple thing, two minutes. Yes, I’m okay. Yes, I’m alive and unharmed thank you for asking. Yes, I’m leaving you. Sorry. You know how it is.

They’d be happy with that. Well not happy- but at least satisfied. Anything would be better than the silence.

One of Hoseok’s co-workers at the record store- the one that filled Yoongi’s position catches Hoseok crying in the bathroom during his break and he makes the mistake of confiding in the other alpha.

“What did you expect to happen? That he’d stay with you forever. He’s a beta Hoseok.”

He’s a beta. Like that justifies it at all. Like secondary gender holds a candle to love. Hoseok doesn’t know what he’d do if he saw Yoongi again. if he’d fall into Yoongi’s arms and beg him to take him back or if he’d bite his head off. He bites of the head of his coworker and gets reprimanded for it, but it’s no use.

Namjoon makes him quit the job at the record store when Hoseok tells him about it. Comes home in something of a fugue state of rage. The kind where Hoseok is too upset to talk about it, but an anxious and distressed cloud follows him and sets everyone on edge. A cloud that Namjoon as pack alpha cannot allow to linger for long. Fragile and broken that they are.

Hoseok wants to hold onto the one place that was just his and Yoongi’s but it’s not really healthy for him anymore. Hoseok looks for Yoongi in the stacks of records, behind every rack of recording equipment. Always about to turn- about to comment on the weird album art or on one vinyl over the other, only to find the store empty. Yoongi’s name hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Their playlist still playing over the loudspeaker because Hoseok can’t shut it off. Yoongi’s love for him like an earworm that never fades. A song stuck in his head never ceases looping. Over and over again the best lines and the worst choruses. Hoseok can feel the base in his hands when nothing’s playing. The rhythm and beat all off. The melody missing. Like c-bat only worse.

So Namjoon encourages him to leave- Because Hoseok is having a rough time in general. He Stays up late listening to music when he can’t sleep. He can’t ever really sleep soundly anymore- a rough time- like I said. They all are. Some time off will be helpful for Hoseok.

And Jungkook too honestly.

Jungkook cries all the time, tears constantly dancing at the edge of his waterline, his dark brown eyes constantly wide and glassy. This time, it doesn’t have anything to do with the seizures coming back with a vengeance, although that happens too. He’s never had two in the same day before but 2 months after Yoongi leaves it happens.

He takes a few weeks off of work just until he gets a better handle on his diet and sleep schedule again. His clients at the gym and its owner are more than understanding. (it’s hard not to be, when Jungkook is one of their most popular personal trainers and his classes book out weeks in advance). But it’s hard to adjust when he can’t sleep- keeps reaching out for a scent that’s slowly fading from their bed. Slowly fading from their memories too.

Jungkook makes chocolate protein shakes but it’s not the same. After a little while- he asks Jin to buy him a different flavor.

Jungkook's seizures feel more like withdrawal symptoms, a barely susceptible tremor in his hands. Namjoon has seen his fair share of addicts at the hospital. And he can't help but recognize the same on-edge sense of hunger in Jungkook. But Namjoon can't fix this with love or medication.

Even when Jungkook's doctor tells the younger about a new medication that could help him. "Kookie” Namjoon had pleaded, looking at Jungkook like he’s more of a pup than an adult that can make medical decisions for himself. He’s pack alpha, Jungkook has to remind himself (though he’s never had to remind himself of that fact before Yoongi left) he’s just doing what he thinks is best for me.

Even if it pisses him off when Namjoon treats him like a child.

“I've seen these medications in action before, a lot of the time their side effects are worse than the seizures," the alpha had gripped Jungkook's sleeves in the cold hospital room, hands hitting the sensitive scent glands at his wrists to try, thumbs digging into them with a zing in an effort to comfort him.

“Please Jungkook, we can find a better way to handle this, you've got us." Jungkook doesn't say anything, but Namjoon can read his expression well enough. They might be able to support Jungkook in every possible way, but at the end of the day they can’t be who matters. They can’t stop the seizures before they come.

They're not Yoongi.

He just wants Yoongi back. To say ‘Koo’ in that soft special way when he walks in the door from work and sees Jungkook sitting at the kitchen table. The words said like a croon that make Jungkook fuzzy and Omegaspace soft. That makes him feel like melted chocolate (not unlike Yoongi’s scent).

It starts to feel hollow when the others call him ‘Koo’ instead of ‘Kookie’. He yells at Tae about it. Koo was just for them- Just for Yoongi to call him. It doesn’t sound the same when they say it.

Koo- soft and sweet, the same way he’d said Minnie at the end of a long day too.

The Jimin of years ago would have scoffed and growled at being referred to as anything but his name. So used to having to posture to prove he was alpha enough for his mates. Sweet-smelling alphas almost always get treated that way. But Jimin was always the vanilla to Yoongi’s chocolate. But now Jimin craves it- the way the elder would bring him down to his lowest and most hidden instincts. The part of Jimin that was just a puppy- that wanted pets and kisses and everything in between- to be a good alpha for his beta.

He hungers for those hidden moments when Yoongi’s dominant streak seemed a mile wide and Jimin didn’t have to be so tough for once. Didn’t have to be so watchful or on edge. “There you go baby- I knew you could be good for me.” Jimin wakes up more than once with those words ringing in his ears. Jimin is a dog without a master. A stray. Herding the others two and frow, snapping at anyone who comes close feels like too much. If Yoongi tamed his instincts, they run wild in his absence.

Jimin struggles not to close up for the others. They still need him. He knows that. But it’s hard not to feel like a rabid dog with his leg caught in a trap, gnawing off his own leg to survive when they’re all this sad. When his inner alpha is yelling at him to just do something. It’s hard to be in control of his emotions when he feels like he’s anything but. Jimin can’t fulfill his most basic instincts as an alpha and provide for his pack. Certainly, he couldn’t provide for Yoongi, at least not enough to get him to stay.

Namjoon and Jin help. Namjoon who turns the lights down low for Jimin as much as Jungkook on the bad seizure bad days. When Jimin looks like he’s going to shake out of his own skin if something prickly touches him or if he’s asked to drink water that’s too cold. Jimin would rather cry until he’s so dehydrated he passes out. Sometimes he can’t even speak through it. But the pack alpha and omega don’t mind. Jin sets out Jimin’s favorite pair of warn pajamas. Not just the right texture but the right color too, always black but with holes at the collar that Jungkook listlessly tucks his hands into. The holes where Jimin can feel his packmate's skin all sweet-sensitive and sensory.

They let him stay quiet and enjoy the feeling until he lets Namjoon pull him down for a scent mark. And the pack alpha rubs his chin against Jimin’s throat, his cheeks, everywhere spreading out his scent of coffee. Thick and comforting and alpha. Enough that everyone will be able to smell it on Jimin tomorrow when he’s away from the pack. A mark to stay away, a mark that shows Jimin isn’t a wild dog, isn’t a stray. That he belongs somewhere.

Jimin has to force himself to stay pliant. To let the pack alpha get at his throat when he’s like this- sensitive and vulnerable. His inner instincts are like a cornered dog, and the only person who he never nips at is Tae.

Jimin tries to believe it when Namjoon says, "There we go Minnie, let alpha make it all better. It’s going to be alright." when he finally lets out a choked grumble and his body goes slack. Like a marionette with its strings cut. The haze of alpha-space on the edge of his vision and the taste of his pack alpha’s scent on his tongue.

There is something intoxicating about the pack alpha; how much larger he is than Jimin and the way he drags him in and reminds him how to be soft after he’s spent the week bickering and getting angry over the small things. Jimin might spend his 9-5 protecting other people, but it's nice to let someone else do it for a change.

Jimin's Gunsmoke angry unhappy scent has always been one of the more pungent. Making Jimin relax helps all of them.

Through dinner, and the scenting, through even sleep. Namjoon’s phone sits on the table waiting for a phone call that never comes.

Their predicament isn’t exactly uncommon- most betas have a few packs that they stay with periodically. Maybe he finally got too frustrated with putting down roots. Maybe the restlessness finally overtook him, and he just wanted to branch out. Where they too stifling? Too needy? They couldn’t fault him for that- even if they are angry that he left without a word.

He didn’t have to be mean about it is all. They were owed more than what they got. A shitty goodbye and unanswered calls.

As much as Jungkook tries to think through it, it just doesn't make any sense. Yoongi wouldn't do this to them. He would never leave them hanging unless he had to. But that anger becomes bargaining as the weeks become months.

In the meantime, Taehyung puts his longing for Yoongi into words.

It’s been years since he wrote so much. Since before college before the inclination to create was burned out of him the pessimistic attitudes of his professors. According to them his works were always a little too grammatically incorrect and fanciful. A cross-section between poetry and prose, neither that nor this, and therefor ill-fitting in either category. Tae’s creativity is too intimate and vulnerable to survive an appraising eye for long. Like a flower with shallow roots. The things he writes are too close to his chest not to feel like wounds.

(Do you like the way I bleed? Should I make It more entertaining for you? Are you bored yet? Does it look pretty enough for you yet? Am I sweet enough to give you a tooth ache still?)

Back then, before the pack, he and Jimin had lived apart. And Tae learned to save the pieces of his sensitive heart and hide them in longhand love letters that they’d sent back and forth. Before Jimin had finally found a job and moved to the city with him.

Now Tae writes that longhand love letters for Yoongi- shoves them in between pages of books so that he doesn’t have to think about them. Compartmentalizing his hurt into sentences and paragraphs. No one loves me quite like you did he writes, red ink that might as well be his blood for how much it hurts to pen the words that Yoongi might never read.

Isn’t it strange how we all love each other so differently Hyung? It used to feel like fabric- my strands pink, yours red, Jimin’s black. But you pulled out all your threads Hyung and we’re fraying. It can’t keep us warm like it used too.

And yet, that pain is still a paper cut compared to how much Taehyung hurts without Yoongi by his side.

These letters aren’t like the ones he wrote for Jimin all those years ago. No- those are saved and shared between the two of them when Jimin snaps at him and they fight (this happens more after the stress of Yoongi leaving and a very bad rut season- a perfect storm for their worst fight in years). They only open the shoebox that holds the love letters when he and Jimin need a reminder that the foundation of their love isn’t something that can be damaged by petty words, bad days.

Or even Yoongi’s absence.

Jimin has never abandoned him the way that Yoongi has; not when he wanted to go to an expensive school in the city away from their hometown. Leaving Jimin to work at the same martial arts studio as always. Not when they were so poor that they could only see each other when Jimin saved up enough money to take the train into the city. Once a month if they were lucky.

In one of the first love letters Taehyung ever wrote, it goes; ‘I crave the easy look you give me when it’s the first time you’ve seen me in months. Where I am the earth and you the moon. And it feels dizzying like I am the thing you desire most, more than flowers want for sunshine, more than hunger wants for meat, Your tornado and your torrent. Under your eyes, I feel like a force of nature. Like luck or maybe like fate. Kissing you tastes like colors I don’t have words for.’

Losing Yoongi feels like that- disorienting, and Tae is unable to find a pattern in life without him. Sometimes he goes weeks without writing letters. Other times he writes Yoongi three times in the same day. On the backs of receipts and napkins. Stained with tears and oil from french-fries.

One night Namjoon finds Taehyung asleep at their dining room table, back hunched over some letters with a pen still in his hand. Tae wakes with a start when the pack alpha skims a hand down his back. Fingers carving lovingly down his spine. Waking him up softly to drag him back to the safety of the nest.

These days Namjoon doesn’t let any of them sleep in the spare room; too dangerous, to have the pack fractured further at nesting time. A kind sized bed smushed together with a queen that just barely fits all of them now full of empty spaces. The nest never feels full anymore. Tae knows just from the soft look in Namjoon’s eyes that he’s read some of the words. Maybe the ink has bled onto Taehyung’s cheek where it was pressed to the letter.

Words like the tattoos on his soul, each of their names written over and over again. There is no more room left on Taehyung’s soul, no more room for another name and no room left for another person to make a home out of his heart- the same way Taehyung had found a home in Yoongi’s.

(That’s a little bit of a lie- Tae just hasn’t met you yet).

Taehyung’s worried about what Namjoon might have read, he doesn’t know if he could handle Namjoon trying to talk to him about his feelings right now. (It’s good that it was Namjoon who found him, if it were Jin- the omega would have probably stayed up late to psychoanalyze Tae’s emotions).

Taehyungs delicate hands splay across the page. Hiding it from view. ‘You were the knife to my cadaver. I understand that you had to leave, but what I don’t understand is why you had to take so much of me with you. If you weren’t planning on treasuring me, the least you could have done is leave me whole. Tossed me back into the ocean like a piece of sea glass that needs more polishing.’

Or even worse, the lines that aren’t as pretty but just as true.

‘If I ever see you again, I think I’ll start crying on sight. I don’t think we’ll ever really meet again. This body will never know your touch, your love again. Like stars never know wishes. Maybe we were just soulmates that met a lifetime too soon. Maybe in the next life, I will hold onto you better. Maybe at the pearly gates, you will be my only sweet regret. If you’re already dead, I’ll wish I was too. I wish I could hate you as much as I love you.’

Tae knows he’s better off having known Yoongi. However fleeting. 3 years wasn’t enough, a whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough. But that doesn’t mean he’s not fucking angry.

His hand crumples up one edge of a newspaper before Namjoon has the chance to see it. The words that Namjoon absolutely cannot see. The ones he doesn't let any of them read. I think it's a good thing that I never showed you that side of me, knowing how indelicate you were with leaving. At least you loved me once. This version of me. I guess I shouldn’t be so angry.

Afterall, I lied to you first.

Namjoon doesn't notice Tae throw out the tiny slip of paper and Tae knows from experience that it will go unnoticed and unturned over in the wastepaper basket.

They look back and try to remember the last few months Yoongi was in their lives and think through what might have gone wrong. None of them can put their finger on it. Why did Yoongi leave and where did he go? Sometimes they’d settle for just knowing that he was alive and safe. Jungkook can't shake the feeling that something must have happened to Yoongi, something bad, for him to leave.

Four months pass without a word. Sometimes Seokjin wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, the taste of blood and rainwater on his tongue.

They all feel like they did before Yoongi collected them and made a home out of their house. Made people out of their fragile souls. Gave them purpose like hands search for hatchets and fire searches for fuel.

Maybe they should have expected this Seokjin thinks, lying awake in the nest at night, the nest absent of Namjoon and Jimin, on an overnight shift and a business trip a few cities over. Hobi near the edge of the nest, nose raised to the nighttime to scent any displeasure on the air. Seokjin has always been good at meditating his scent neutral. Controlling the pulse of his heart and the adrenaline in his body so as to not trigger a spike in his unhappy scent. As sensitive as all his alpha’s are- Jin is ever mindful. They all need their rest.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” Jungkook asks. Awake. The younger omega’s hands soft and downy like feathers fluttering through Jin’s hands, treading between his fingers. Both of them happy for some quality one-on-one cuddle time.

The youngest omega has always been so sweet, and that sweetness seems twofold underneath the light of the moon spilling through the window. Jungkook doesn’t cry so much anymore and neither does Jin, just once a week or so instead of every night.

In the darkness- Seokjin can pretend that Yoongi’s there. The memory of Yoongi haunts all of them in different ways, right now he’s a ghost in the corner of their room.

If Yoongi were here, would he be asleep between the two of them? Would Jungkook pull the betas legs between his knees just to get a little closer? Hands playing on the half almost abs steady softness that Yoongi's always had for a tummy. The perfect medium between plush and hard. Would he toy with the softness while Seokjin tucked his face into Yoongi's neck? Would they each take one of his hands in the darkness?

Yoongi's hands were always a sensitive part of him. And now- Seokjin grasps at the bedspread and pretends, just for a second. This far into the city there aren’t a lot of stars to see, outside the window the night sky is empty, but the moon is always there.

Seokjin gets through Yoongi’s presence by pretending he never left. By closing his eyes and remembering that for a little while, for a long while really, He had something really really good.

“I’m not sure Kookie, we’ll have to wait and see.”

Seokjin kisses the distressed curve of Jungkook’s jaw, smoothing away the listlessness as best he can with a hand down his neck, to his chest and lower. He and Jungkook made the nest earlier to curl up in, just the two of them. And yet- it doesn’t ease the pain in Seokjin’s heart. Doesn’t comfort either of them as much as it should.

Items of Yoongi are put sparingly in the nest, they don’t smell like him anymore, it’s more out of routine than anything else. It’s been too long. They’ve given up preserving Yoongi’s scent for Jungkook’s seizures. Unlike those first few weeks when it still felt like he was all around and Seokjin only had to close his eyes and pretend that his life partner- the man he’d been with for almost 6 years- was still there.

No one aches over the loss more than Seokjin, and no one misses him more. The others do their best to comfort their oldest omega, to be home at certain times so that he doesn’t get too nervous. But it only takes a small break in their schedule to get Seokjin pacing back and forth in front of the door. Nearly brought to tears at the thought that they might not be coming home.

His anxious spirals take him to dark places. There is no limit to tragedies that could befall them, hit by a car, or a victim of a train derailment. Worst are the days when they get stuck in traffic, when they stumble through the door and into Jin’s arms.

The eldest omega bursts into tears the second he sees them, the second he hears footsteps by the door. “You were late- I thought you were- I thought I was-” I thought I was alone again.

“I know my love, I’m so sorry- it was just an accident on the road, traffic- you know I’m safe- you know I never speed.”

Seokjin couldn’t handle losing them. Not a single packmate. It would destroy him and he knows it. He knows what this is, a common symptom in omegas after they lose a pup or a packmate. He learned about 'nest anxiety' when he was in university, but knowing what it is doesn't help him cure it in himself. Making a nest doesn't give him the same satisfying rush it used to. And won’t again until all his packmates are inside of it.

That’s impossible now, Seokjin’s anxiety has nowhere to go.

It’s a terrible breach of the pack contracts to want a keep to beta for your own. It goes against all social convention and all reason. Society has come to expect this, that beta’s will jump from pack to pack. But that doesn’t make it any easier to endure.

Whatever way you cut it the facts of their situation are the same. They weren’t enough. The 6 of them didn’t give Yoongi enough love. And he had to go find it somewhere else.

Missing Yoongi has carved a hole out of Seokjin’s heart- a space where nothing can fit besides fond memories, placed there delicately. Like to remember them too frequently would dilute them and make the love feel less real in memory. The more Seokjin wants him back- the more he feels like it never happened at all. Like their love story was only a good dream.

They all feel like they did before Yoongi was there. Before he made a home out of their house, and a person out of their souls and wants. They feel like graves, shaky and unsettled. The fallow ground where once there was fruitful love. Greif settles into their routine like the winter.

The house isn’t full of music anymore. They come and go from the apartment marking the hours apart without comment. Hoseok and Jimin don’t go for drives anymore. There are no more Doughnuts to be done in Namjoon’s car. There is no more wildness in Namjoon’s body left, only exhaustion.

Seokjin doesn’t cook nearly as often, take out is just easier. Seokjin doesn’t comment that it’s the first snow of the year when it begins to fall. His body already frozen solid.

Jungkook’s seizures gets marked on the refrigerator. 12 in October. 17 in November. 22 in December. Yoongi’s flannel hangs on the hooks by the front door, and no one touches it.

Hoseok and Yoongi planted flowers in the window boxes on the balcony last spring. Because Hoseok asked him to help and Yoongi obediently held the tray and swept the dirt over the edge. When the same plants come up again in March Hoseok can’t even look at them. It gets a little bit better when he starts to notice them around the city, the other touches of spring. The fresh leaves on the edge of branches. The bulbs poking up through the earth. The flowers aren’t just a memory of Yoongi. Not anymore.

Every hint of yellow in the grey winter landscape feels like a soft reminder of healing. Grief can only last so long, like the season it has it’s cycles. Big and painful one moment. A soft lesson that fills you with bitterness the next. That the sound of Yoongi’s absence gets quieter and quieter as the months drag on and they come to terms with it.

Hoseok isn’t unemployed for long. He gets a job at a flower shop sort of across town, it’s sort of a commute and sort of on the edge of suburbia where the houses grow big and old and fancy, but it’s alright. It feels good to have a reason to go outside of the apartment again. A different place to haunt where memories of Yoongi do not follow him like a disembodied life.

Hoseok gets to make bouquets that make people smile. Roses and peonies, daisies and sunflowers. It doesn’t matter that distance separates them. Hoseok will always be the sunflower pointing in the direction of his sun. Everything will always remind Hoseok of Yoongi one way or another.

Hoseok lets himself smile when he feels the impulse and cry when he can’t handle it anymore. He knows to appreciate a good thing even though it’s gone. He’ll always have memories of Yoongi; how he was the kind of lover to make your interests his own. Yoongi was always the kind of person who’d do something with you just to make sure you didn’t have to enjoy it alone, the perfect company.

Hoseok walks to work, always with one headphone in, the other headphone is meant for Yoongi. The same way they did when they worked at the record shop together.

(He’d never know because he switched jobs, but on the rainy days when fog sinks into the city like a fresh sheet, there is a figure outside the windows of that record store looking in. The record store owner is just closing up the day. Locking the door when he lifts his head against the rain. “He quit.” is all he says, all he needs to say before the figure slinks away without a word. Returning to the rain and fog.)

Yoongi finds the flower shop, and Hoseok. The stolen moment when he lets himself look through the foggy windows at the unmistakable red head bobbing to unheard music. One headphone in like always, it makes Yoongi smile. He leaves before Hoseok can spot him looking in. A spare 10 feet away, but Hoseok would never know.

Yoongi is their ghost- and he haunts them in more ways than one.

When Hoseok looks up from his phone, he finds a palm print pressed into the fog of the window. But when he goes outside to look- the streets are completely empty. He doesn't tell the others. Can’t- he won’t get their hopes up when it was probably just some creep looking in. Hoseok needs to stop seeing Yoongi everywhere he goes, really. He feels like he’s gonna go crazy if he doesn't stop daydreaming about the beta.

They never move apartments. They can’t. What if Yoongi tries to find them again and he shows up at their door? What kind of packmates would they be if they went to a place where he couldn’t follow? Months pass and Namjoon wakes up on the 6-month anniversary of the last time he saw Yoongi and just feels off.

There is something wrong, but he couldn’t tell you what. He puts on his suit feeling like he’s wading through fog. He commutes to work, drops off Tae and Jungkook. Goes on his way. Forgetting to check his phone for Jin’s ‘got to work safe’ morning text. The rotation of patients swirls around him like dishes on a lazy Susan. The one common denominator in their pain and suffering and sickness is Namjoon.

On his way home, he passes the parking lot where he and Seokjin and Yoongi did donuts in the first night they met. It’s being ripped up to make room for more retail space. Namjoon remembers the way that night had smelled, chocolate and cream mixed with the smell of burning rubber and French fries.

Namjoon’s hands tighten on the wheel and all he knows is that he’s crying too hard to drive home. He calls his pack so someone can come and pick him up because he can’t drive in this state. He stays like that. In the empty parking lot walled in by chain link fences until Jimin pulls him from the car so carefully. His body smaller than Namjoon’s as he lifts him under the arms but no less strong as he puppets Namjoon into his car without a word, where Jin is already waiting in the back seat. Wiping away his tears that just don’t seem to end.

He cries so hard he bursts a blood vessel in his nose, staining the front of Jin's shirt with blood. Hoseok drives his car home.

At every red light, Jin meets Jimin’s eyes in the mirror. Silently reassuring him that everything will be okay even if they both know that's a lie. Things haven’t been alright since Yoongi’s left.

Namjoon is a wreck. Absolutely destroyed. He cries all the way home, until Jungkook’s popped the buttons on his shirt, until Tae has washed the sad off of him. Until he’s cried himself hoarse and exhausted. Like he’s stored the last 6 months’ worth of misery and missing Yoongi and let them all out right now.

He needs a full week off work to get back to where he was before; a different one of his mates uses their sick days on a different day of the week so that Namjoon’s not alone at the apartment. They’re all healing at different speeds. It just took a second for it to hit the pack alpha and for him to know that they’d be okay. Namjoon made sure each of them were going to be okay before he broke and that has to count for something.

Namjoon craves Yoongi. Craves his hands. He remembers Yoongi’s fingers sliding down his palm, tracing the lines there when they used to watch Jimin and Hoseok dance in their crowded living room- everyone keeping their feet tucked into their seat to give them both more room. Yoongi pressed tight against his side.

Namjoon remembers holding Yoongi’s hand when they would walk through the neon streets at night, a bottle of soju that they would switch back and forth, from lips to hands, to another set of lips. Indirect kisses.

It takes him a while. But eventually, things start to feel a little bit normal. Not quite the way that they used to be. But not straight terrible either. Spring is coming again. The daffodils are just starting to come up. And Namjoon gets up in the morning, knowing that even if Yoongi never comes back, he’ll be okay. They’ll all be okay. They can manage like this. Really. They’re going to be fine.

And then after 7 months- at a random fucking grocery store at 2pm on a fucking random Tuesday in April- Jimin sees him.

He finds Yoongi.

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

-In my mind, if bily where a movie, the scene where Yoongi is cleaning the blood from his footsteps and the scene where Namjoon is calling him would blend really seamlessly into each other.

- Ahhhh I realize this was the first time we get a bit of Jimin’s internal monologue <3 it’s a shame that it’s so sad. I’m happy that I was able to touch on his sensory issues a little bit earlier in the story in this version.

- You cannot believe the hatred I have for the words ‘you’re so sweet you’re giving me a toothache.’ Honestly any man or woman who says that needs to be taken out back and shot. I have very few things that trigger me worse than that.

- After all these years I still love the line ‘Afterall, I lied to you first’ it’s so fucking good.

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malk1ns · 23 hours ago

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you made my life harder by not sending this as an ask, but for you i will do this @beggingwolf.

btw in this world there's no four nations faceoff it's just a scheduled two-week break in the season. because they deserve it, and frankly we deserve instagram pictures of sid and geno in swimsuits on a beach somewhere. putting that out into the universe.

If Zhenya were being honest, he'd probably say that the knee injury comes at a pretty convenient time.

Obviously, he doesn't want to be missing hockey. He never wants to be missing hockey, especially with the team in flux the way it is now. Hockey is in his blood, in his bones, and he always feels a little off when he's not playing.

The bye week is coming up fast, though, and when Zhenya takes a look at his calendar after his first rehab session finishes hours earlier than Sid will be back from practice, he's struck by how much he has left to do.

The basics are nailed down: they have their flights, their private cabana on the ocean, the rental boat. Sid bought them new swimsuits, even, although Zhenya thinks it was an excuse for him to get something skimpy that he'll beg Zhenya to wear.

There are a few details that Zhenya needs to finalize, though, and the unexpected stretches of free time are exactly what he needs.

He waffles between a fancy reservation on the mainland and a private chef in their cabana. In the end he splits the difference, calling their travel agent and asking him to find the nicest steakhouse in the city with a private room he can reserve.

He pre-orders two bottles of champagne, one to be at their table when they get there and one to be delivered later.

He hesitates over first a flower bouquet, then a balloon display, before settling on an enormous box of expensive truffles. Sid will scold him, say that they're already too far off their meal plan and they'll never get through these, but when they're back in Pittsburgh he'll shove them in the freezer and sneak them three at a time when he thinks nobody will notice.

And then, there's the ring.

Zhenya ordered it months ago, a dazzling custom piece that he ran by Taylor Crosby and Sid's mom and Mike Chiasson and basically any one of Sid's lifelong friends he could get a hold of. He'd been afraid of going overboard, getting something more to his taste than Sid's. He got universal approval, though, and they promised him he'd have the ring before their trip.

It hasn't arrived yet. Zhenya spends a lot of his off-hours chasing the jeweler down, barking over the phone and pacing in his office while various employees put him on hold to check receipts and track down work orders.

Finally, it arrives in a discreet brown box two days before they're supposed to leave.

Zhenya thought he'd be nervous, when he was finally getting ready to propose. It's not like it'll be a huge surprise; it's really only inertia that's stopped either he or Sid from proposing sooner. Still, it's a big step, and Zhenya is guilty of putting pressure on himself for special occasions, always has. A proposal while on vacation when he had to plan everything from a distance or via proxy is exactly the sort of scenario that would usually work him into a tizzy.

When the time comes, though, he's shockingly calm. It's easy to usher Sid into the restaurant and up to their private balcony, alone but still able to observe the ambiance of the restaurant. It's easy to pop the champagne bottle and giggle when Sid grabs his hand to playfully lick off some of the bubbles that spilled onto his knuckles.

And when the time comes, it's the most natural thing in the world to slide from his chair, drop to one knee, and pull the ring box out from his pocket.

Sid says yes before Zhenya even finishes talking.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing

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ladylooch · 2 days ago

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Bones - Part 15 [Mack x David]

A/N: I have said this so many times, you are all probably sick of hearing it BUT THIS IS MY FAVORITE CHAPTER!!!! This was the first chapter I wrote for their series and it has stayed mostly the same since I originally wrote it in May 2024. Considering that, I think I've been patient long enough! I can't wait any longer so it's going up a few days earlier than I said. Please, please, please come talk to me about this one 😭 I want to know every single thought that comes across your beautiful brains as you read this. Literally on my knees and begging. Okay, okay, go.. now.. run please! Read! Enjoy 🥹

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of child birth, birth trauma (nobody dies, promise!), mentions of bodily fluids including blood.

July

“It’s David. Leave a-”

Mack clicks off the phone as she gets her husband’s voicemail again. She pouts her lips out, looking out the window at where she can see Felix and two other farm hands in the barn.

Maybe he knows where her husband is.

Normally, Mack doesn’t worry about where David is at lunch time because he comes home, or she drives out to meet him in the field. Today, neither of those things happened and Mack ended up eating lunch without him. The unusual behavior makes her want to get eyes on her husband to make sure he is okay.

The closer Mack gets to giving birth to their son, the quieter David has become. Mack knows it’s not about second guessing their choices or any of that. But it is another moment in his life he is navigating through without his parents. She gets to talk to her parents about what this was like for them- creating life, those last few weeks before everything changed, the delivery room. He doesn’t have that and as such, Mack treats those conversations as a luxury.

Mack kicks off her house shoes, then slides into a pair of sneakers. Her belly is so big now, she has to lean slightly to the side to make sure her foot is going into the shoe. The second Mack opens the door and feels the Iowa humidity, she groans. What was she thinking being this pregnant in the summer? Oh yeah, that her husband would be home for the birth. Crazy of her though, to think that being 39 weeks pregnant in the middle of July would be fun.

She never wants to do a summer baby again. She would do another baby, but not in the summer. Bring on the winter coolness that would help alleviate the furnace of a baby inside of her. Clearly, this one is going to run hot like his daddy.

Mack braces a hand on her back, then grabs the railing to walk the three steps down the porch. Her tired feet scuff along the dirt as she flips her sunglasses down over her eyes, heading towards Felix. When she gets close to the barn, a tickle sticks in her throat as the wind whips up some dry dirt from the road.

“Hi Felix.” Mack murmurs as she pauses at the entrance of the barn. He is working with another farm hand in replacing a section of rotting wood in the far corner.

“Oh! Mrs. Mackenzie, there’s a lot of dust. Stay out there. I’ll come out to you.” Mack can see the dust flying around and wisely stops her forward progress. She stays in the opening of the barn, edging her way back out slightly. “Hi.” He says breathlessly as he comes out to her. “How can I help?”

“Do you know where David is? I’ve been calling to see if he is coming up for lunch but he isn’t answering.”

“Oh, uh, he’s right there.” He points behind her. Mack turns around, shielding her eyes over her sunglasses. On his knees in black dirt, is her husband, shaping and working in his mom’s rose garden. She didn’t see him with the angle she took out of the house.

“Ah… wow, I didn’t see him. So sorry for bothering you!” Mack apologizes with a grimace.

“No worries. He should have answered your calls.” Felix gives her a shrug. Mack supposes that is true. But it is not like David to ignore her, especially 39 weeks pregnant.

She walks over to him, hands crossed over her chest as her shoes kick up dust around her feet. The wind is blowing hard today. A storm is set to sweep into the area tonight, bringing with it some cooler, less humid weather. Music to this pregnant woman’s ears.

“Hey.” Mack calls to David as she gets to the edge of the garden.

He is shirtless, tanned skin pulling tight over this muscular back, chest, and arms. He has work gloves on his hands, protecting them from the black soil he is working with. Specks of black dot his forearms up to his elbows. The distinct white of his AirPods against his slightly curled black hair tells Mack he is deep in another world right now. She walks around the garden towards the house, getting in his line of vision. He glances up, then immediately sits back on his heels seeing her. Mack’s heart skips a beat, taking in his sexy, sweaty form looking at her like she’s his next meal.

“Hi honey.” He says, tilting the brim of his ball cap up and wiping at his forehead with his dirty forearm. Dirt smears across his skin. She smiles as he pops an AirPod out. He looks so good right now- her hard working man, grinning at seeing her hand as she strokes her bump. “You okay?”

“I am now.” She murmurs back.

“Now?”

“I’ve been calling you?”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. Had my notifications off cause I am listening to a pepper podcast. Tryna figure out what the fuck I’m doing wrong with the bell peppers this year. They’ve all got bottom rot out there.” The peppers were for their family use, not the farms, but David takes anything that doesn’t grow perfectly personally. “What’s up?”

“You thinking about lunch anytime soon? It’s after 1.”

“Ah… I’m not that hungry.” Mack bites her lip with worry at his response. David is always hungry. He also was supposed to be out checking fence this morning, but here he is knee deep in his mama’s garden again.

“Okay.”

“Sorry, honey. Were you waiting for me?”

“No. We can’t.” She laughs, tapping her big belly. “Your son wouldn’t allow it.”

“Our growing boy.” David smiles. He looks down at the garden. “What do you think?”

“It looks great, babe.” She says. “Will be nice to look out at this from the baby’s room.”

“Yeah.” He nods, hands on his thighs as he scans the various colors of rose bushes.

The bedroom in question is the smallest in the house, normally an office, but the closest to the master bedroom, which is on the main level. The house layout is a little discombobulated, but David wants to keep the integrity of the farm house. He isn’t ready to change what it was like for him growing up here. The only work he has done in the house is re-doing the flooring on the main level, put a new coat of paint on, and renovated the shower into a mini spa for himself after a long day of work in the fields.

“Mama would love it. Good growth this year. I’ve been working on splitting up a few of these big ones. Thought maybe I could plant them by her and dad.”

“That would be really nice.” Mack nods. “I’m sure your mom would love that. Your dad would allow it.” She smirks. She never got to meet David’s parents, but she knows enough about them to feel confident saying so.

“If mama was happy, he was happy.” David smiles. “Sound familiar?”

“Mhm.” She grins at him. “Come give me a kiss. I’m going back in. My boobs are melting off right now from this heat.”

“Can’t have that.” He murmurs, pulling his gloves off. “I’m filthy.” He warns her.

“I’m well aware of how dirty you are, sir.” She winds her arms around his sweaty body, pulling him down to her height. He smirks against her mouth, making his mustache tickle her nose. She squeaks, pulling away to rub the tickles away from her nostrils. “That thing is out of control. You need to trim it.”

“Not what you were saying this morning.” He jokes. “Ohhhh baby, don’t stop.” His words hiss through gritted teeth like hers were, then he attempts to nip at her neck.

“Shush!” She slaps his bare stomach, looking over her shoulder towards the barn. “You’re such a dick.” He laughs loudly, pulling away from her.

“Then you must like me.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Put some more sunscreen on.” Mack calls back to him, slowly meandering her way back towards the porch. She carefully steps up the porch, hand braced on her back and the railing as she does so. She glances over to her husband who watches her with careful, green eyes, then waves one more time before getting his knees back in the black dirt.

- - - & - - -

While the Iowa weather thunders and soaks outside, Mack tries to get comfortable in David’s embrace. She shifts every which way, grabs extra pillows to stuff between her legs, but nothing seems to work. It’s been like this especially since dinner when the storm clouds started to roll in.

“Ugh. This baby is so damn low.” Mack snaps. “It feels like I can’t even close my legs anymore. I might need to put a mirror down there to make sure he isn’t actually coming out.” She throws the pillow she was trying to wedge between her legs across the room in frustration.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.” She grumbles. David brings a hand to her thigh, rubbing up and down in reassurance.

“You’re amazing, hon. I’m sorry things are tough right now. I love you.” Mack mumbles a thank you. She deeply appreciates that David has sympathy for what her body is going through, and that he regularly tells her how in awe he is of her, but tonight she is grumpy. She doesn’t want him to make anything better. She wants this damn baby out.

Mack only lasts five more minutes of her sour mood and uncomfortably shifting positions. With a final sigh, she wiggles her way to the edge of the couch to stand. David stands too, giving her his hands to help her get up with a limited struggle.

“I’m going to bed.” She tells him. His lips twist into a disappointed frown, but he nods without much fuss. A loud clap of thunder makes Mack jolt in surprise. “Holy mother of…” She trails off in Swiss German. Her heartbeat sprints in her chest as David chuckles then gives her a kiss.

“Well, you’re at least going to lay in bed.”

“Yeah. I guess.” She shakes her head, moving towards the kitchen to fill up her water bottle.

“Goodnight, baby. I’ll be in soon.”

“You don’t have to go to bed because I am.”

“I know. I want to.” He says simply. “Wanna hold you if you’ll let me.”

Mack smirks in the kitchen, twisting on the top of her water cup before padding through the living room. On her way behind the couch, she drops a kiss on David’s head. She cups his face, gently tilting it back towards her to smooch his lips, stroking his jaw sweetly before continuing on to bed.

“I love you.” She murmurs over her shoulder.

“Love you, hon.” He calls back.

Mack goes through her night time routine of washing her face, putting on lotions and creams as well as ten minutes of meditation through her Calm app to try and get centered into a less frustrated state. She reminds herself how grateful she is to be pregnant and have the opportunity to bring life into the world. Being pregnant in conjunction with Savannah has encouraged Mack to be appreciative for how easy her and David’s journey has been. Savannah and her have become close, sharing in so many experiences together.

Mack works on a pair of compression shorts and a t-shirt of David’s that allows for her boobs to breathe. She pulls the covers back on their bed, then slides into the cool sheets. She savors the temperature with a little shiver, but knows this feeling won’t last long. She grabs her phone, texting David to turn down the air conditioner before he comes to bed. Even with the storm blowing through, the humidity lingers more than she would like.

Mack is scrolling through Instagram when David comes into the bedroom. He heads to the closet where Mack observes him pulling back on his work jeans and a clean Carhartt grey t-shirt. He grabs another pair of boot socks, which clues Mack in that he is heading back outside.

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah. I gotta head out to help Bob. A fence blew open and his cattle are scattered along the southern edge of our property and into the road. Gotta round ‘em up.” He flips the light off in the closet. “Just gonna help til his hands are able to get over there.” He puts a warn, Coors hat on his dark locks after pushing his hair off his forehead. “Won’t be long.” He comes to her side of the bed. He puts a hand on her bump, then at the back of her neck, stroking fire across her lips when they touch.

“Be careful out there.” She tells him.

“It’s done storming. Well East of us at this point.”

“Yeah, but still be careful.” He smiles, kissing her again.

“Always so worried.” He chuckles, kissing down her chin and chest to her bump. He presses his nose in, green eyes closing as Mack places a hand on the back of his head to cradle it.

“Yeah, cause I don’t want to raise this baby alone.”

“I’ll never let that happen. Promise, mama.” He murmurs against her belly. “Be good.” If he is talking to the baby or Mack, she can’t tell.

Despite her best efforts, Mack still cannot get comfortable after David leaves. Again, the baby feels so low and the pressure is almost unbearable. She gets up, wandering around the room, trying to find what position relieves the ache of pregnancy from her body. She practices her breathing exercises, then again tries her Calm app. Still nothing is working. She throws her phone onto the bed in frustration, then says fuck it, and heads to the freezer where pints of Ben and Jerry’s is waiting for her. It won’t solve being pregnant, but it will provide comfort.

“What flavor do we want?” She asks her belly. She opens the freezer, looking down at the tops of the lids, reading off the options she has. “I feel like… Ew, why did Daddy get Cherry Garcia? We hate that one!” She chuckles, picking it up. It has already been opened, half eaten. David likes the weirdest, most out there flavors sometimes. “Mmm brownie or strawberry cheesecake?” She murmurs, tilting her head. “Strawberry sounds good. And it has fruit in it, so we can both lie about it having nutritional value!” She leans down, grabbing the top of it. As she comes back up, wetness begins to dribble down her right leg.

Mack pauses.

She focuses in on her body, then realizes exactly what that liquid is.

“Oh fuck.” She squeaks. She drops the pint of ice cream, then puts both hands on her belly. “Buddy…” She trails off.

It’s David. Leave a message or I’m not calling you back.

Mack rolls her eyes at his voicemail and hangs up, incredibly more stressed than she was this morning when this happened. She immediately dials his number again. From her perch in the kitchen, she faintly hears a buzz. She pauses, tilting her ear towards the living room to listen better. The sound cuts off when his voicemail plays again.

“Oh you have to be kidding me.” She sighs. She presses his name again, then watches between two couch cushions light up. “What the hell, David.”

Mack puts her hands on her lower back, rubbing vertically up and down the muscles. She closes her eyes as she begins to pace, trying to stay calm as she feels some tightness happening in her back and abdomen. She remembers the coaching from the doctor’s that first time mothers tend to be in labor for awhile. She figures she has time, so there is no need to try to find her husband. She can wait until he returns.

Time is not on her side tonight.

Mack starts to experience intense pain in her abdomen while she is cleaning herself up. She grips the counter in the bathroom, moaning out in pain as another contraction takes over her. These are fast, much faster than she was expecting. She feels her abdomen release it’s tension, then stands back up to her full height. She meets her eyes in the mirror, seeing the intensity of what she is experiencing there. This must be active labor. Is it possible for her to be at this stage already?

With immense struggle, she finishes getting clean clothes on, including her roomiest pajama shorts. From their bedroom, Mack looks across the first few fields to the other house on the property. She can see a single light on in Felix and Lorena’s kitchen. She grabs her phone and the keys to the Gator, then makes her way there as fast as she can. Being alone seems like a terrible idea right now.

After parking, she stands up, then immediately bends over, moaning at the horrible pain rocketing through her.

“Holy fuck. Why does my ass hurt so bad?!” She screeches in Swiss German. Her knuckles go white around the metal pole of the Gator. Lorena notices from where she is washing dishes at the sink. The front door flies open and she rushes down.

“Are you in labor!?” She exclaims. “Where is David?”

“He went to help Bob and- uhhhhhhh.” Mack squats down on instinct. She breathes out the way she learned in the brief Youtube video she watched, then opens her eyes into tiny slits to look at the other woman. “He doesn’t have his phone.”

“Felix!” Lorena snaps loudly, slapping the dishtowel against her thigh. “Get out here!” Felix rushes to the door, looking concerned at Mack’s state. “Go get David from Bob’s. Fast! She doesn’t have much time.”

Mack looks at Lorena, delirious from pain. She has time… right? It’s just painful. This is how labor is.

Felix takes off in his truck as Lorena puts Mack back in the Gator to get her home. Lorena stays with Mack, holding her hand as the contractions continue full force. Lorena times them and they are closing in on three minutes apart. There is no doubt anymore that Mack is in active labor. She thinks about that long, half hour drive to the hospital and tears fill her eyes. She needs relief but the drugs are a ways away at this point.

“Ooooooo…” Mack trails off as the pain from the contraction steals the noise right from her throat. Holy shit, this is so painful. She is pretty sure cartoon stars of pain are floating in her vision as she looks across the wall at a picture of her and David laughing at their wedding. “Where the fuck are you, babe!” She howls through the room. Lorena pats her hand assuringly.

“It won’t be long now. I’m sure Felix found him. They’re on their way.”

On cue, David storms through the front door, bringing with him the smell of wet dirt and the cooled summer breeze.

“Honey, how we doing?” He calls to her.

“Horrible!” She yells. David walks into the living room, tossing his work gloves to the side and kneeling on one knee between her legs. He rubs the outsides of her thighs, collecting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Can you walk?” He mumbles against her right ear.

“Honestly, I don’t think so.” She cries, tears leaking down onto his shirt. “Everything is so intense- ugh.” The next contraction hits her, more forceful than the last one, somehow. She wildly searches for David’s hand. He threads her fingers into hers.

“Great job, baby. Keep breathing.” He coos into her ear. He keeps one hand in hers, then uses the other to rub her lower back. Mack focuses on his tight, circular motions, letting his skin on hers keep her grounded through the pain.

“We gotta go. I need drugs. Like now.” She says after the contraction is done.

“How long between contractions are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe like two minutes.”

“Damn. Are you serious? Maybe I should have started with that question.”

“Yeah, I probably should have said that.” She nods rapidly.

“Arms around my neck.” He instructs. Mack does so and then he lifts her into his arms. Mack looks up, seeing Felix and Lorena in the doorway.

“Thank you so much.” She says to them both.

“Good luck you two.” Felix tips his hat to them. “I’ll lock up for you. Just go. Truck is running.”

“Thanks.” David sighs in relief. The truck’s headlights beam across Mack and David as he carries her to the passenger side. The door is open already, so David can slide her in easily.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Mack hisses, gripping David’s shirt as he tries to work his way out of the cab. He halts, putting his hands on her thigh and shoulder. This time, he doesn’t say anything. When Mack comes out of this contraction, she looks at her husband. “Are we going to make it?” She may be a first time mother, but she can tell the baby’s head is close to crowning. The ring of fire is so severe she can feel vomit pushing at her esophagus.

“I don’t know.” He says honestly. “But I’m gonna try, honey.”

Not even five minutes into their drive, Mack already knows the answer to her previous question. The pressure between her legs has her moaning at every dip and bump in the Iowa highway. This isn’t good. Her eyes screw shut again in agony.

“David, he is coming…” She pushes through her gritted teeth. Her finger nails pierce into the palm of his right hand as his thumb rubs at her thigh.

“I know, baby.” He takes his hand back to put both hands on the wheel, pushing down harder on the right pedal.

“No, he is coming. Right NOW.”

David takes his eyes off the road, looking at Mack’s face. It’s flushed and twisted in pain. Her breathing is labored as she shifts uncomfortably in the seat. That Youtube video didn’t have the best suggestions for when you’re raw dogging labor in an old truck at 90 MPH. Listen to your body, Mack can hear that calm, mocking voiceover of the video. Personally, Mack wants to turn that communication all the way the fuck off right now.

“Okay. Do you want me to keep driving or stop?”

“Um.. ahh!!!” Mack starts to whimper.

David takes his right hand off the wheel again, giving it to her so she can squeeze. Her fingernails pierce through the skin on his knuckles. A gush happens and Mack startles. Something feels different now, she cups her stomach, feeling it slightly squishy. In concern, Mack brings her other hand down, then gasps at David, looking wide-eyed at him. “I can feel his head. Ohmygod, it is partially out.”

David immediately guides the truck off to the shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Mack panics. “We have to keep going!”

“Baby, we need to focus on getting him out now. There isn’t time for us to get there. I gotta make sure you’re both safe.” He dials 911 as he gets out of the truck. Mack watches him, shocked and dumbfounded at what is happening right now.

“Hi, we need an ambulance on County Road 63 near Anderson Lake Trail. My wife is giving birth.” He pauses, pinching the phone between his shoulder and his head as he opens Mack’s door.

“Turn, honey.” Mack is horrified, yet finds herself trusting David completely as he tilts his head in. He gently peels her shorts and panties down, looking directly at her spread legs. He works them all the way off so she is bare and spread eagle in the country night.

“Oooohhhh my god.” Mack hiccups in disbelief. “What’s happening?” She slaps a hand on her forehead.

“She is 39 weeks. And, uh yeah, his head is partially out. I can see his hair.” He looks up at Mack with sparkling green eyes. Despite it all, she tearfully grins back at him. Their son has hair! David reaches for the lever on her passenger seat, tilting her back further.

“Scoot back a bit, hon.” He rubs her calf comfortingly with his thumb. Mack watches him in awe now, how completely calm he is as he puts a hand between her legs, ready to catch their child when he enters the world completely. Tears collapse over her lashes and she hiccups from the fear of it all.

Another hearty contraction forces Mack forward, she bares down as David tosses the phone onto the dash. Her knees come up her body and she puffs her breaths through the contraction.

“Perfect, Mack. You’re doing perfect.” Her husband encourages her softly. A sob retches from Mack’s chest as she feels the baby progress further. “Head is completely out.” David calls towards the phone as more instructions are murmured by the operator.

“Ow, ow, ow!!” Mack’s howl sears through the dark night. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Mack grits down on her teeth, shaking from adrenaline and pain. Tears coat her cheeks as she shakes her head no at David. His face is calm and controlled, even his green eyes as they search her face.

“The only way through this is to get him out now, honey.” David says calmly. Mack wants to ask him if he is as scared shitless as she is, but before she can, she feels the build of another contraction. The next scream gets lost in her esophagus. She slams her head back into the headrest, closing her eyes to try and keep from completely losing it right now. Her baby needs her to get him out. She can’t be scared right now. David is here. He won’t let anything happen to them. He is going to get them through this.

And so is she.

“Okay, guide the baby down and to the side for the shoulders to come out.” The 911 operator coaches David. Mack arches off the seat in pain as the pressure builds excruciatingly fast. Then the next contraction comes and she pushes as hard as she can to end this for all of them. A roar sounds from her chest that sounds nothing like her. Then the baby hits David’s palms as he hollers excitedly, his hearty “Yes!” filling the dark night.

“He’s out!” Mack opens her arms for the baby and David settles their son’s face into the exposed skin coming through her V-neck. “He is on mama.” David tugs his shirt off, gathering the soft cotton to put on their son.

“Great job, mom! Be careful not to pull anything. Is the baby crying?” The operator asks.

“No.” David says, already rubbing at the baby’s back. He has delivered hundreds of farm animals. He knows there needs to be a noise coming from their baby to deem him okay. He needs to breathe. Mack adds her hand too, rubbing limply at him with her husband until that first cry hits their ears.

“Oh!” She exclaims joyfully. Once the baby is consistently sobbing, David leans into the truck more over Mack’s face to kiss her tenderly.

“You are a fucking badass, baby!” He kisses her harder then works his way over the tear tracks on both of her cheeks, smearing who knows what on her face too. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” She nods, holding tighter to the baby. David’s eyes drift down to their son and he grins wider.

“Look what our love made, honey.” He whispers as the faint sound of sirens crawls closer. David looks over his right shoulder, seeing the flashing red, white and blue lights. “Hold on.” He murmurs, reaching into the back seat for a blanket. He covers Mack’s still spread legs to give her some modesty until they have to check on her. His big hand drapes over her head, thumb brushing her forehead as she closes her eyes and sighs. “You’re okay, baby. He is too. You’re bleeding some still, but it’s not too much.” David assures her. Fresh tears leak out from her corners. Their son continues to cry in his mama’s arms. Then red and blue lights flood over Mack and David’s faces. She opens her eyes, seeing two paramedics rushing to them.

“How are we doing?” One paramedic asks. David steps aside for them, but opens the back door of the truck to stay close to his wife. He gets in, putting his hands on her shoulders so she knows he is right there with her.

“Um, okay?” Mack laughs, letting them see the baby. He has gotten quiet and curious of his new surroundings. They put a blood pressure cuff around her arm, then put the stethoscope on the baby to hear his heartbeat.

“Baby’s heart sounds good!” The paramedic confirms.”I’m gonna check you, okay?” She moves down between Mack’s legs, assessing the situation. With all the adrenaline pumping through her right now, Mack can’t tell how she is doing. She’s on fire and numb all at the same time.

“We might need a new truck.” Mack says nervously.

“Nah, it’ll come out in the wash.” David assures, kissing the top of her head.

“Dad, did you deliver?” The other paramedic asks as he checks on Mack’s vitals.

“Yeah!” David grins excitedly. “I knew all that calf birthing would come in handy one day.” Mack scoffs at him.

“Did you just compare me to a cow?”

“No! You were much nicer than the heifers, honey.” The paramedics chuckle in agreement.

Mack smiles tiredly.

“Weirdly comforting.”

In another few minutes, they have Mack and the baby strapped onto the stretcher. Mack assures David they are okay and he should drive the truck the rest of the way. He follows behind, using the ambulance as an excuse to rip down these old highways from his childhood. He parks the car fast, then runs to the ambulance where they are unloading Mack. Several nurses and two doctors are waiting for them. They all converge on Mack at once.

“David?” She calls weakly, losing him in the sea of people.

“I’m right behind you, baby. It’s okay.” She nods, holding their son tighter.

“Congratulations! What a night for you!” A doctor in a white coat says, holding a clip board. “Did anyone happen to catch a time when baby came into the world?” The doctor asks. “Not that you were busy at all?” David laughs.

“11:14pm.” Mack swoons, thinking of how incredible he is. Everything felt so rushed and crazy. How did he even think to get the time of birth? Because he is David- calm, cool and collected in the rawness of any moment. She loves that about her husband.

Once Mack is settled into a room, they finish the final steps of delivery. The team checks her over, deciding she will need a few stitches. No one is surprised. Their son came fast and furious and Mack didn’t even quite know it was happening until he was being put in her arms by her husband on the side of the road.

Mack looks down at their son as they work on her. He has been cleaned and diapered, covered by a hospital blanket advertising back is best and a striped hat on his head. David stands next to her, rubbing her scalp gently as a tension headache throbs against her skull. The room is quiet and calm, much different than the last hour. Their son closes his eyes and puckers his little lips, already content in his new world.

“Does baby have a name?” A nurse next to the computer asks from across the room. David looks at Mack, kissing her as they both smile, thinking of the person they are naming their son after, who they hope he takes after too.

“Nico Carlson.” Mack answers.

“Welcome Nico!” The room cheers excitedly. Mack starts to weep, thinking of her dad back in Switzerland, going about his day having no idea he has a grandson with his name now.

Later, when the lights are dim and everyone has left them alone, David sits in a chair next to Mack’s bed, looking down at their son in his arms. They’ve both already done skin to skin, now it’s time to rest, but David can’t. His gaze lifts from their son, who will go by Nicky, to Mack who is sleeping lightly in her bed. She glows now, even after her hard night. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have her.

The night replays in his head- the storm, Mack’s constant discomfort, how low she kept complaining the baby felt. David should have known. He should have sent Felix to help Bob so he was there to help his wife through labor. Instead, he barely got to hold her hand through any of it like he promised her. David reaches out for her hand, resting by her hip. He is careful of her IV as he threads their fingers together. Mack’s eye lashes flutter open.

“Is he okay?” She asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we are all good.” He squeezes her hand.

“You need to get some sleep. You’re going on almost 24 hours being awake.”

“Nah, I run on minutes.” Mack quietly looks him over, then slides her hips back across the bed.

“Come lay with me.”

David slides into bed beside her, carefully holding their son in his arms. Mack settles on the other side of David’s chest from their son, looking at his sleeping face. His little lips are split open, with fast breathing pushing in and out of them.

“How did we live without him before?” Mack murmurs, rubbing her fingers along his swaddled arms.

“I don’t know. Suddenly, he’s all the world revolves around.”

“I can’t stop staring at him. He looks like your twin.”

“Minus those big dimples in his cheeks. Those are mama’s.” Mack chuckles. Yes, but before they were hers, they were his namesake’s. David sighs, pressing his fingers deeper into her back as he kisses her head. “I’m so sorry you had to do so much of yesterday alone. I should have checked for my phone and I didn’t. I let you down.”

“You delivered our baby…” Mack trails off, blinking incredulously.

“Well, I had to deliver the baby in the truck because we were so late. If I had my phone, or didn’t go to help Bob-"

“We will never know.” Mack says quietly. “And as parents now, we need to let that stuff go. The things we can’t change or the paths we didn’t take, like not being parents. We are here- exactly where we are supposed to be- perfect and healthy.”

“I knew you were going to be an incredible mama and wife. Thank you, honey, for giving me my entire world.”

Mack puckers her lips. He leans down to kiss her hard, lovingly, relentlessly. His hand cradles her firmly to his chest, then they both turn back down to stare at their son’s face.

Nico Carlson has already changed the world.

#mackdavid au #NHL x oc #nhl fic #nhl fan fiction #hockey writing #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction

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wisteria-lodge · 3 days ago

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Speaking of Tom's parents why does Tom hate his father when it's his mother who tainted his blood by being with Tom Sr? The reason he became a halfblood was because of her, her bloodline was even among the best, although the Gaunts have fallen they are still part of the sacred 28 and Slytherin's bloodline. But why not blame his mother? (Ignoring the if Merope didn't do that to Tom Sr Tom Jr won't exist anyway) or is this because of JKR's mother's can't do wrong and are the best bs?

I mean, Tom does also hate his mother. Back when he's an orphan who doesn't know anything about his parents, he primarily hates his mother, because he resents her for dying, and has convinced himself that she must be a muggle because she died?

“Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they’ve told me. (...) My mother can’t have been magic, or she wouldn’t have died,” said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore.

Tom does some research, and tracks down both the Gaunts and the Riddles, and I have to imagine that in both cases he is... kinda disappointed? But he also steals the Gaunt ring and makes it into a Horcrux. So it's like he's *claiming* this family heirloom. It's his now, not theirs. He is the REAL gaunt heir.

(Tom has a FASCINATION with heirlooms, and enjoys low-key stealing them away from their original families. We see him go to a LOT of trouble to get his hands on Hepzibah Smith's Hufflepuff heirloom, the Slytherin locket, and Ravenclaw's diadem. I also think that if he was planning on making his sixth and final horcrux with Harry's death, the object he was planning to turn into a soul-container was almost certainly Gryffindor's sword.)

We see Tom's pattern of kill the relative, keep the legacy when he murders his father and paternal grandparents... but keeps the house. Other families move in, but quickly move out. It's very possible he cursed it like he cursed the Defense position - this thing SHOULD have been his, but isn't, and if he can't have it no one else can. Circa Book 4 the house stands empty, and the official story is it's kept vacant by a wealthy man for "tax reasons." Honestly I think it would be hilarious if Lucius technically owns it, but either way, Tom clearly has control of and USES the Riddle house. He finds his family and absorbs anything about them that he finds cool or impressive. Then, deletes all the aspects he doesn't like (his father's name, his father's looks, the family members themselves...)

This is the point where he makes the diary, and frames the situation like this:

You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?

Which is definitely... a way to interpret what actually happed, Tom.

What this says to me is that he's locked onto Merope pretty much by default. She's the only family member he's never met, and so he can't be as viscerally repelled by her as he is by his father, grandparents, and uncle. But I imagine he probably does think she was weak for dying, weak for having her head turned by a handsome muggle, and for loving him enough even after he left to name her son after him. Tom is not a terribly well-adjusted person.

I actually think it's harder to find people who he DOESN'T hate. Even when he plays the charmer during his Borgin and Burkes' era, he doesn't LIKE any of these people. Slughorn he might respect a little... but probably mostly sees him as pathetic and easily manipulated. Dumbledore scares him. (Dumbledore also gives Tom a hard time for calling his Death Eaters "friends.") And when it comes to his "slippery friend" Lucius, and even Bellatrix... Tom thinks they're stupid and careless:

"It would be prudent to alert Snape to the fact that the boy might try to reenter the castle . . . To tell Snape why the boy might return would be foolish, of course; it had been a grave mistake to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy: Didn’t their stupidity and carelessness prove how unwise it was ever to trust?"

I am sure there are some fantastic Bellatrix/Voldemort fics out there, but I do think as a *canon ship,* it's really hard to make it work. He doesn't respect her, and bullies her for fun. That might be why she's just absent from the Cursed Child, even though she's MASSIVELY important to the plot. It was just too hard to do an on-screen canon Bellatrix/Voldemort interaction.

Barty Crouch Jr. seems to be the only person who Voldemort actually LIKES, and actually TRUSTS (even snape, he only like... half-likes, and half-trusts.) It is baffling there are only 47 Barty Crouch jr./Voldemort works on AO3. This is how he talks about Barty when he's plotting his return:

"By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us — (...) I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered"

And this is how he talks about him to the assembled Death Eaters:

"one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service (...) it was though his efforts that our young friend [Harry] arrived here tonight...

and this is how BARTY talks about HIM

“My master came for me (...) My master had found out that I was still alive (...) my master knew that I was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most faithful of all (...) He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.” The smile spread wider over Crouch’s face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. (...) “It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. (...) And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn’t been in years.” (...) “He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him."

like... I'm just saying. Barty calls him "Master" every other sentence.. And the DADDY issues here? off the chart! Barty was mind controlled by his cold, abusive neglectful father and then RESCUED by Voldemort?

"I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter . . . closer than a son. . . . The Dark Lord and I (...) have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers . . . very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure . . . the very great pleasure . . . of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!”

There's just so much here!!! why are there 6,676 works shipping Barty Jr./Evan Rosier, and 1,618 shipping Barty Jr./Regulus Black, but everyone is sleeping on toxic daddy issues D/s Barty Jr./Tom Jr.???

(this post... may have gotten away from me a little, I apologize.)

#barty crouch x voldemort #bartymort #I will make bartymort a thing #hp #watsonian analysis #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #barty crouch jr

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ghostf1ux · 1 day ago

Text

Going for the Throat

Day 1: Vocal Cords

Word Count: 3.4k

TW/CWs: Bad Dad!Bruce, me projecting onto Jason and Bruce's relationship

Part 1 || Part 2 (here)

-------------------------------------------------------

Rain and thunder pound against the abandoned apartment building where two men face off.

“It's me or him. You have to choose!”

Jason watches with wide eyes as Bruce– no, Batman– turns around, as if he's ignoring a petulant child. He turns his gun from the Joker's head to Batman's.

“Choose!”

In a whirl of motion, he turns and flings his arm out. Laughter– maniacal, cackling laughter– echoes in Jason's ears. A bolt of lightning reflects off a dark, moving shape, the metal glinting dangerously.

He watches it fly towards him in slow motion.

He's too slow.

Too slow to move out of the way– to slow to process–

Before that batarang is slicing his throat open into a cavernous ravine.

He drops the Joker. The Joker laughs. Jason clutches at his throat– rivers of blood slipping between his fingers, filling up his throat, and he gasps but no air comes.

He stumbles back, hand slipping off the wall, slick with his own blood. It pitter-patters against the ground in time with the rain. Green light– the color of Joker’s hair, the color of acid, the color of toxicity and pain– filters in through the windows, the little room where Jason drowns in his own blood starts to fill up with it. It pulls his limbs down, tearing and scratching and burning–

Jason shoots up with a choked gasp, skin slick with sweat. His blankets are strewn haphazardly around him, twisted in his limbs. His breathing is heavy and labored, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he takes in the unfamiliar dark room.

Right.

He’s hiding out in a club’s back room while Bruce is conducting his investigation or whatever.

More accurately, he’s hunting Jason down while Tim does the actual investigation.

He drags his hand down his face as he gets his breathing back under control, scrubbing the last dredges of sleep from his eyes before rolling over to sit on the edge of the bed. He rests his elbows heavily on his knees, rubbing at the new scratches he’s made over the scar on his neck. Swallowing feels like rubbing sandpaper over a road rash, so he opts to stop doing that.

Only a moment later, there’s a soft knocking on his door. His immediate reaction is to point the gun he keeps under his pillow at it, slowly, soundlessly prowling closer. It’s probably just one of the girls, but his paranoia has been at an all time high these past few days he’s been staying here.

He cracks open the door, body taut with anticipation.

The soft, makeup-painted face of Kat looks back at him, those doe-eyes that make her customers swoon glancing over him. He sighs, leaning against the doorframe and opening the door a little wider.

“What’s up, Kat?” Jason asks tiredly, scratching his forehead with the back of his gun. She raises an eyebrow, though whether it’s because of the gun or because his voice sounds like it’s been through a paper shredder, he doesn’t know.

“The little one came back. Said the Bat has requested your presence.” She toes the door open a little further, just the few inches Jason will allow her to before stopping it with his foot. “Are you okay?”

Jason just grunts a vague affirmative, not quite meeting her eyes. She watches him idly rub at his neck, covering the raised scar standing out against his tan skin.

“Right, well, if you’re going to go, take a shower first. And leave the door unlocked so we know. He said he’d be waiting in the back.”

With that, she casts one last glance back at him before he shuts the door and she leaves. He sighs, the sound coming out more clipped and rough than normal.

Fuck. Of course this is the day this shit decides to act up.

Begrudgingly, he cleans up the room from his stay. He has half a mind to just let the little demon wait outside and never go to meet him, but that would just lead to him being annoyed by his siblings until he finally did listen, so it’s best to just get it over with now. The faster he can get Bruce off his back and go back to patrols, the better.

Over the next half hour, he takes his time putting the room back together, taking a shower per Kat’s suggestion, and getting back into his suit, sans helmet or domino, seeing as he hasn't been to any of his safehouses since B started hunting him.

He takes the back exit, avoiding anyone who may question why the Red Hood is in the back of a strip club without all of his gear on.

Then again, pretty much anyone who’s here knows the vague idea of what’s been happening the past few days so they probably wouldn’t question it all that much actually.

As soon as he pushes the door open he sees Damian waiting, passively listening to the girls on break with his arms crossed, resolutely ignoring the way they’re clearly whispering about him.

He snaps to attention when he sees Jason, straightening up. “Akhi. Father has–”

“Requested my presence, yes,” Jason finishes dryly, muttering the words once he’s closer so he doesn’t have to irritate his throat any more than needed. Damian still pauses when he hears the words, squinting at him.

“What is the matter with your voice?” He asks sharply. Jason brushes past him, waving the girls off as he takes the tarp off his motorcycle he retrieved yesterday. They head back inside, leaving the two vigilantes alone. “Answer me.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Jason huffs, wincing slightly at how the words crackle in his throat. Damian stares at him pointedly.

“Tt. You can't truly expect me to believe such an obvious lie–”

“Just drop it, Damian!” He finally snaps, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose while resolutely ignoring the stab of guilt in his gut. “...Bad day.”

“I… see.” Damian turns to his own bike, throwing his leg over. Jason takes a moment to steel himself before doing the same, pushing through every instinct and every thought protesting the idea of returning to the manor to do just that.

The ride there is hot and dry, even with the summer wind whipping Jason's face. It almost feels dusty, or maybe ashy? There was a big fire somewhere in the city the night prior– not anywhere close to the club he was laying low at– but the effects from a fire like that would be felt city-wide. Must've been put out, if Damian is here to pick him up and now that he thinks about it, was definitely smelling of smoke. Really, the whole city does right now.

Aka, literally everything terrible for his throat that can happen right now is happening right now. All he's missing is actually being in the fire.

Well, the day's still young, the sun just barely cresting the horizon. There's a nonzero chance he ends up in one.

This is Gotham, after all.

Anxiety twists his stomach into knots as they roll into the secret entrance to the Cave, motorcycle engines roaring quite a bit louder now that he doesn't have the helmet to muffle the sound echoing in the tunnel. Once it opens into the cave, he's almost surprised to see the whole family there until he remembers they probably just returned from patrol. Based on the fact that everyone's still in their suits, he'd wager he's right.

Jason parks his bike in his usual spot, which also happens to be the closest spot to the entrance. The Cave, usually smelling of bat shit and the cold, thick scent of cave water, now seems to be choked with the residual smells of the fire they were surely fighting just an hour prior.

Awesome. Great. Amazing. He can already feel it clogging the back of his throat, sending his ability to speak even further out of reach.

Surely he won't need it for a fucking conversation, right?

Right.

Jason struts over before Damian can, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow expectantly at the various sets of eyes on him.

“Well, I think it's clear we found the culprit–” Tim starts, before Jason raises a hand, turning his glare to the group of Bruce, Dick, and Cass.

Dick clears his throat. “I think it's safe to say an apology is in order,” he begins. “I'm sorry for jumping the gun, little wing. We should have listened to you.”

Cass nods in agreement. “Yes. I am sorry. Too fast. Ignored words.”

Jason watched with scrutiny, looking for any sign of a lie. When he finds none, he turns his glare to Bruce…

…who isn't even facing him. He's faced towards the Bat Computer, typing away at something on the screen. Jason's jaw ticks, watching the man quietly click away with laser-like focus for a solid thirty seconds before he turns to the rest of his family incredulously. Sparks of anger start to overpower the nauseous anxiety from before.

After another bit of waiting Jason loses his patience and flicks the gun with live ammo out of its holster– levels it at the screen– and fires off a shot. Cracks spider web across the monitor and it goes out, the lack of blue glow making the cave that much darker.

All this before anyone can move fast enough to stop him.

The silence of the normally cacophanous family following the resounding gunshot is heavy. Bats flutter and chitter overhead, leathery wings flapping indistinctly. Steph, Tim, and Dick watch with wide eyes as Bruce spins slowly in the chair. Cass and Alfred watch impassively, seeming unfazed, or, more likely, too good at hiding their true feelings. Damian is the same, but Jason doesn't miss the way his shoulders stiffen and his posture straightens. Everyone is tense, ready to interfere if necessary.

Maybe that should say something about the situation.

Jason dismisses it, just like he dismisses the lingering pain from the injuries he got during that chase and the way his heart climbs into his throat as Bruce slowly stands, glaring at him.

“That was an expensive monitor,” Bruce growls, all Batman in anything but mask. Jason just scoffs, holstering the gun and resuming his previous stance, keeping most of his weight on his toes, just in case. “You will pay for the replacement.”

Jason just raises an eyebrow, humming a sarcastic agreement that makes it very clear he will be doing no such thing. Hums are safe enough, he thinks. They hurt his throat like hell but they sound normal enough.

Bruce seems to accept it, because he continues to talk. “With the chaos of the fire, Firefly got away. You will be relegated to finding her. Once you do, call for backup prior to engaging so we can ensure another large fire is started before she is apprehended.”

Jason blinks.

Blinks again.

Then barks out a laugh.

It's loud, and painful, and cracking, and doesn't carry a single ounce of humor. He doesn't miss the way several of the surrounding audience members flinch at the sudden

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason practically wheezes, barely louder than a whisper in his bafflement.

“What was that?”

Bruce's voice distracts him from his moment of sheer incredulity.

“I said, are you fucking kidding me?” Jason repeats louder, forcing the words out despite how it sends stabs of pain through his throat. His scar itches uncomfortably under the skin-tight turtleneck shirt he wears.

Bruce's eyes furrow, but it's Dick who speaks up. “Are you okay?”

“Fucking peachy,” Jason grinds out. “I'm here for the apology, old man. Get it over with so I can leave.”

“I summoned you here to coordinate your efforts to help the city with ours seeing as the suspect proving your innocence was apprehended.”

“Oh, that's just fucking rich.” His head snaps to Steph, who approaches him with a water bottle like she'd approach a wounded animal on the streets. He glances down at it, then at her, before forcefully relaxing his shoulders and taking it with a grunt of thanks. She nods, clearly trying to hide her concern and failing miserably. He appreciates it nonetheless.

Bruce turns back to the Computer, looking at all the other monitors. “I recommend starting in the Diamond District. That's where she was last seen. Oracle will send you the coordinates.”

Jason savors the last sip he takes before responding.

“No.”

Even the bats go quiet. The silence grows heavier, tension so thick you could cut it with a fucking butter knife.

“I gave you an order,” Bruce growls. Jason bristles, hands clenching at his side instead of twitching for his trigger like they want to.

“I'm not your good little soldier, B! I'll do what I want, whenever the fuck I want, because you don't fucking control me and you need to get it through your thick fucking skull!”

His voice grows to a hoarse, crackling crescendo before it finally breaks and sends Jason into a violent coughing fit that wracks his body, pulling at the stitches he so carefully sewed into himself. At some point someone– Steph, he thinks, by the purple fabric swaying on the edges of his vision– comes over to rub his back and takes the water out of his hand so he can rub his scrubbed-raw throat.

“Okay, I think we need to bench this conversation for today,” Tim cuts in, closer than Jason last remembered. Huh.

“No,” Jason croaks, glaring briefly at the small splatter of blood on his hand before wiping it away.

“Seriously, Jay, I think we need to get your throat looked at–”

Jason just growls his dissent, and woo that did not help.

“If you are to work with this team, you will listen to the orders you are given.”

“Fat fucking chance,” he hisses, something metallic making a small pool below his tongue.

“Okay, no, you're getting your throat checked out,” Dick cuts in, getting between Jason and Bruce to put his hands on the farmer's shoulders. “Little wing, what happened? I know we didn't do that.”

Jason laughs, the sound grating on his throat until a little blood dribbles out from his lips. “You wanna know what fucking happened? He slit my fucking throat, that's what happened, Dick! He slit my throat with a goddamn batarang and he left me to fucking die! He took the Joker and he ran without so much as a glimpse back at his supposed “son”!”

He falls into another coughing fit after that outburst that makes him fully double over, various bodies helping keep him up while trying not to encroach too far into his personal space. He takes the water from Steph's stiff hand, chugging it once he has the breath to do so.

“I'm done, Bruce. I'm done with you. So you can fuck right off with your orders and all that bullshit. From now on, I'm cleaning up Gotham in a way that actually fucking works.”

There are a few moments of silence, where no one seems to know what to say.

“...Is that true?” Tim finally asks quietly, so painfully genuine and so close to the edge of scared. It almost makes Jason regret saying what he did.

“Father?” Damian prompts, voice so steely he knows the boy is hiding his true emotions behind a well-built wall around his heart.

Jason glares at Bruce, who simply looks back with a stone-cold expression of… disappointment? The resounding silence is telling.

“Babs, find the cowl footage,” Dick orders, grip turning tight on Jason's shoulders. Whether that's in an effort to keep Jason there or to keep himself there, he doesn't know. “Sound off.”

It's only a minute or so later the video is pulled up on the second biggest monitor (seeing as Jason shot the first one). Jason keeps his (no doubt glowing) gaze on Bruce, watching for any sort of tell, any sort of twitch that betrays his emotions.

It's also so he doesn't have to see the Joker or his own pathetic face staring back at him. He doesn't want to know what Bruce saw.

When the others gasp, stiffen, or have some other sort of outward reaction, he knows they've seen it. The moment Jason still has nightmares about and is the predominant reason he wears turtlenecks whenever he goes out.

Meanwhile, Bruce remains stoic. Silent. Stony, cold, and not a hint of fucking remorse.

Dick shakes, Jason suddenly notices. Not with fear, not with sobs, but with rage. A type of rage Jason has seldom seen on his golden-boy face. His breaths are controlled, but heavy, and– oh shit.

In a flash of movement, Dick is in front of Bruce and cracking his knuckles across the man's jaw– no one moves to intercept him. Bruce crashes to the ground under the force of that one hit.

“You could have killed him! You nearly did!” Dick shouts, all rage in his taut-as-a-bowstring form. “He is your son! I know you're an emotionally repressed piece of shit but what the absolute fuck was going through your head?!”

Bruce rubs his jaw before answering. “He was supposed to drop the Joker to move out of the way, so I had the opportunity to catch him off guard to apprehend him.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “What then, Bruce? You just cart your own son off to Blackgate? Arkham? Would you stick them in the same transport truck too? Just put your son– my little brother in the same place as his killer?” He scoffs out a laugh, more out of disbelief than anything else. “Of course you would. Because the mission always comes first. I should have fucking guessed something happened that night when you came here and scrubbed the footage from the main uploads.”

Jason watches the interaction with wide eyes, something warm curling inside him. Shit, maybe Dick actually did mean what he said before.

“I do not wish to reside here any longer,” Damian announces, though not nearly as dramatic as he usually would. He sounds disappointed. He sounds betrayed. He sounds a little more like the kid he should sound like at his age. “Someone who would so callously throw away the life of his son is not one I can trust in the field or in my own home any longer. Thus, my home shall be elsewhere.”

“Yes. You have broken trust,” Cass finally pipes up, looking down at Bruce from her perch.

“Yeahhh! Fuck Batman!” Steph cheers in vindication. “You always were an asshole, old man.”

Tim shoots her a little grin, before turning back to Bruce. “This isn't your city anymore, Bruce. I don't think it ever really was. Not after this.”

Jason looks around in wonder at his siblings all standing with him. Tears prick the corner of his eyes. He looks back down at Bruce, who, with the threat of Dick Grayson still standing over him, hasn't moved to get up. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to stop him from speaking.

“Operating outside my purview will be grounds for me to apprehend you,” he warns. Jason grins, all sharp teeth and malice.

“I ran circles around you for months back when I was seventeen. Between all of us, you'll be lucky if you even get a glimpse.”

“And don't think I'm on your side with this either,” Babs chimes in from the Bat Computer speakers. “This is vile, Bruce. You broke your rule on your own son. Good luck attempting to even leave your cave.”

“I'll be back to pick up Dami's and Tim's things. If you want to walk around with that playboy face you so cherish, I don't suggest showing it while I'm here,” Dick snarls before turning around. “Alright, everyone, let's get going.”

Together, they pile onto their various vehicles, but Jason hesitates when he sees Alfred waiting by his bike.

“I am sorry, my boy. I… I was not aware of what had occurred that night,” Alfred murmurs. “To think we came so close to losing you again…”

“It's– it's fine, Alfie,” Jason whispers, no longer willing to force his voice into anything louder. Alfred offers him a small, pained smile, handing him a small box.

“Drink this when you return home. It will help your throat.”

Jason smiles something genuine at that, nodding. “I'll keep in touch.”

“Indeed. I would expect nothing less.”

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