#anyways GEAR 5!!!!!! TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!

[petrolwave]

doing this for the next 24 hours

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

[astrae4]

A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS | park sungho

pairings — park sungho x reader (non idol au)

genre — (wc: 1.5k) fluff, romance 😼, strangers to lovers, fast-burn

warnings — ur kinda stalking him.. a bit…

note — HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SUNGHO!!! Guys i lowk want a man with shoulders as broad as his 🙁 is that too much to ask.. ALSO DANGEROUS WAS SO GOOD!!! The song teases too omg..right in my alley. I cannot wait for the album drop 😋😋

more works: navigation | bnd!masterlist

YOU SWEAR YOU’VE NEVER BEEN this interested in gyms before. Yeah, sure, you’re sporty. But gym sporty? Yeah no—that’s another level of torture.

Right now though…man you might just change your mind. You do one more bench press, super slow with your focus elsewhere—namely, the mirror on your right that shows a small reflection of the most scrumptious man you have ever seen in your life.

Those shoulders? Good gosh, they’d be perfect for your hands to rest on, agree?

(And the crowd screams yes!!!)

This was how you started being more consistent in the gym. Currently in week three and you’re so proud that you’re broken your world record of gym streaks.

You’ve decided then: you’re going to get him.

There was just one slight problem to this equation… you don’t have any courage to talk to him.

All you know are three facts:

His name was Park Sungho (how’d you know?you overheard a friend of his call him once. You’re not a creep, okay!!)

He had the most gorgeous shoulders known to mankind.

You want him.

Okay so maybe the third one isn’t really a fact—and you swear (cross your heart!) that your infatuation with him isn’t merely because his eyes are as twinkly as the moon, nor because his lips were plump and not crusty like most men, nor is it also because his voice is just…

Anyways! You get what I mean.

That was how you ended up ranting everything to your friend Sanghyeok—which apparently calls himself Riwoo now because he said he felt more cool and mysterious with that name. ( ok get it our nonchalant dread head!! )

“Park Sungho??” Asked Riwoo, startled once you blurted everything, “you mean the one with the pointy nose and sweet voice?”

You paused and raised an eyebrow at him, “duh? Have you been listening this whole time?”

“No not like that—you mean Park Sungho in class 19.99 right? He’s in your calculus class, dummy.”

“Wait—WHAT.”

Riwoo threw you a deadass stare, before fishing a muffin out his pocket and shoving his face in it. Perhaps he knew you too well as you started shaking him for answers.

”Just go approach him—”

”I can’t!”

”Then stop talking to me about it!”

“Please, my-Ri-to-the-woo—”

”UGH FINE! But no promises and you buy me a dozen donuts tomorrow.”

”Deal!”

You didn’t get him that dozen of donuts, but Lee Sanghyeok, being the good friend he is, still ended up conversing with his Sungho hyung in their shared dance class for you.

Luckily for you, he managed to score a hangout—the three of you—for next Wednesday over coffee and desserts.

Finally, with all the gears set in, you could start with ‘diary entry 1: A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS’

(yes, it’s meant to be this long)

1. A lady hints, not talks

The first ever step-slash-rule to secure a man is to give hints. Yes, hints. No way are YOU the one to make the first move, you hear me ladies? 😒 If he doesn’t pick up on the clues, then you drop!

Wednesday came. And boy, it came with a lot of nervousness, I tell you! But you were ready. Dropped in the cutest fit you have—a pair of jeans with a puffy dress on top (THIS COMBO>>>)—you were absolutely ready to charm Park Sungho.

It took you a while, but you made it on time (5 minutes late) to the cafe, Riwoo and Sungho conversing already at a table near the windows. Riwoo was the first to see you, sending a wave. You returned it, and right after, Sungho sent you one too—albeit less dramatic. Your smile turned up a bit more before sending a smaller wave back to him.

”Hi guys! Sorry if I’m late.”

”It’s okay, we just came,” replied Riwoo, “this is Sungho, my friend in Dance. Sungho, this is my best friend, [reader]”

Sungho stood up to shake your hand, and you both exchanged ‘nice to meet you’(s).

”Let me get coffee real quick!” You told them, before going to the cashier.

After you ordered, you went back to your seat.

“How are you these days, [reader]?” asked Riwoo

”Good, although I think I overworked my feet yesterday, It hurts slightly,” you replied, which by the way, was a big fat lie.

“Ah, is it doing better now?” asked Sungho, who was deeply concerned.

”It should be, I think,” you replied shortly.

More small talk was made before your order number got called. You went up to get it but before you could fully stand—

“I’ll get it for you, [reader],” answered Sungho.

“Huh?” both you and Riwoo replied in shock.

“You should rest your feet since they might still be in pain if you overexert it,” he replied simply.

“Oh there’s really no need, Sungho—“ you denied at first despite the fact that you were internally giggling.

“Please, I insist,” He replied with a smile that almost melted you on the spot, before taking your receipt and heading to the cashier.

It was silent for a moment before your eyes met Riwoo’s, and his met yours. Both of you kicked each other’s feet before suppressing a big fat grin.

2. a lady takes no risks

consult God (or a fortune teller if you’re not religious) to make sure this man is for you. Use the mind, not the heart.

“Okay,” You muttered to yourself like a nutjob, “IF. And only IF he is the one…um..” you paused your prayer for a second because you had no idea what to say.

You decided to just settle for the classic, “Please send me a sign, amen.”

And with that, you fixed your hair and applied pink lip gloss before leaving the house.

Step after steps, you kept thinking of him until you reached the actual library. You took a deep breath before going in. You were early this time, but it seems that Park Sungho has a matter of showing up super early, because he’s already there—sitting in a seat near the windows.

He had his back facing you, so you snuck up on him quietly before placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Sungho,” you muttered quietly, and he jolted, spinning around to look at you fast.

Were you delusional, or is he staring at you?

“Sungho..?” you repeated.

That seemed to jolt him out of his state, “Oh, [reader]—yes, sorry for that. I was out of it—“

You giggled before taking a seat beside him, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

There wasn’t much small talk after that, as you both seemed focused and determined to do well on your project. Mid-way, however, a crash followed by a yelp took you out of your very focused state. You turned to see Sungho—only, a book fell on top of his head.

“Sorry!” said a boy above you looking down on the rails. You both seemed to recognize him as Myung Jaehyun, who’s also in your shared calc class together.

“Why that—“ said Sungho, before he gives you a quick brb and went upstairs; probably to murder Jaehyun.

You picked up the book on the ground, and then stilled when you read the title.

‘The Sign’ by Robert Van Kampen.

Oh.

I mean, you’re not opposing now, are you?

3. A lady enjoys the reaps that she sowed

Get rizzed up all night by a nice guy (stream nice guy!!!)

“I love your shoulders,” you muttered at him, a hand on his bicep.

2 months had passed since you first dated each other.

”Oh yeah?” He replied, but his words seemed unfocused and disconnected—I mean, who can blame him when you’re sitting on him, looking so cute after you both just made out.

“Mhm,” you answered once more.

”Tell me more,” He asked.

You did, but midway you realized he was just looking over your lips—not paying attention. You rolled your eyes.

“Are you even list—“

He cut you off with another kiss. It lasted a while before he pulled away once more.

”Can’t believe I’m yours,” He whispered, smiling goofily.

You giggled. Yeah, Park Sungho’s yours. The man with broad shoulders is yours.

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse

NETWORKS: @k-labels @onedoornet

© astrae4 2024 — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[fandomfucker]

Birthday-Cody Rhodes x Gn!Reader

Request: Cody has to work on your birthday when all you want to do is be pampered with a day of relaxation so you have attitude and he makes you feel better

Word Count: 1,632

2nd Person POV

Friday Night Smackdown and you were once again, in some random city you didn't care too much to be in. It was your birthday weekend and you had wanted to spend it with your fiance Cody, so he had taken you along with him.

It was a pretty nice city, even though you'd rather be home, so the plan was to stay there for a few days. Friday for Smackdown, and then have the day to yourself on Saturday while he did press stuff, and then you'd spend Sunday (your birthday) together. Maybe do a couples spa. A cute little romantic dinner, ending in a movie night. Something fun and relaxing for your birthday.

Unfortunately for you, that's not exactly how everything had turned out.

Saturday morning, you woke up in your shared hotel bed, the spot next to you unusually empty. Groggily looking around, you squinted at the bright light seeping in through the blinds as you searched for Cody.

You noticed light coming out of the bathroom towards the entrance of the room and rolled out of bed, wrapping your fuzzy blanket around yourself as you moved.

Stepping onto the cool bathroom tile, you saw your fiance getting ready in front of the mirror. He had already gotten dressed in some khaki shorts and a nice polo and was currently shaving off his stubble.

He stopped and turned towards where you stood in the doorway once he saw you.

"You're leaving already?" You asked him, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He smiled softly at you, stepping forward and wrapping his hands around your waist. "I'm sorry babe. I'd sleep in all day with you if I could. But you know how it is."

You nodded in acceptance, knowing fighting about it wouldn't change his work schedule. He kissed your forehead before moving back to the sink, finishing up what he was doing as he began to ask about your plans for the day.

"Well, I found this super cute nail place so I think I'll go get my nails done. And then I found a good-looking sandwich shop for lunch and there's some other stores and stuff on that road so I figured I'd spend most the day there. Probably until you're done at least."

You leaned your head against the doorway as you spoke, mesmerized by the way Cody's muscles looked under the sharp lighting.

He snapped you out of it when he addressed you, a small smile pulling at his lips as he ignored what you were staring at, only to subtly flex his biceps as you stared. "Sounds like a great day, babe. I should be done by 5, and we can meet up somewhere for dinner."

You tried not to let the disappointment that he wouldn't be available until dinner show, so you just wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him tight, whispering 'I love you's and your goodbyes until you were once again left cold and by yourself.

You made the best of your day out. To the best of your ability anyway. You got your nails done, a shimmery red to match Cody's ring gear. You had found a small bakery and gotten yourself a little sweet treat as well as a small birthday cake for tomorrow.

You were living life, savoring the peace and quiet of being by yourself and not having to rush for once. You had even gotten a new purse, it was white with a little yellow and purple flower pattern on it, and you couldn't wait to show Cody.

There was a nice barbeque place not far from where you currently were and had texted Cody an hour previous that that was where you wanted to go for dinner to no response.

No big deal, he often was very busy and couldn't check his phone for a while, but he'd get back to you as soon as he could. An hour turned into two and by 5:30, the designated meeting time, you had still not received any response.

This had happened before. He would get caught up with whatever he was doing and would wind up being late for a date the two of you had planned. You had just hoped that this time would be different since it was your birthday tomorrow.

You decided that whether he would be there or not, that restaurant was where you wanted to have dinner and you made your way over anyway.

Later that night, around 8 o'clock, you were at a local ice cream shop for dessert when you finally got a text back from Cody.

Cody♥️💙: I am sooooooooo sorry Y/n!!! They just kept having more and more stuff for me to do and I couldn't say no and they wouldn't let me have my phone on me I'm so sorry. I'll see you at our hotel❤️

As angry as you were with having no communication with him the whole day, you really couldn't be anything more than irritated. This wasn't unusual so you were kind of just used to this happening at this point in your relationship. But it was your birthday weekend.

Arriving at the hotel, before you could even open the door, it swung open revealing your fiance, a look of guilt on his face.

Not letting him speak, you just fell into his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist as he held you tightly. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, expressing without words that it was okay.

"I was thinking since we couldn't do anything today, that tomorrow we could start early? I found this cafe downtown that looks good for breakfast and then I booked a couple's spa around 10:30. We'll figure out lunch when we get there and then there's this gorgeous flower field not far from here if you want to take some birthday photos." He rambled a little bit as you rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him lovingly.

You stopped him with a kiss to his lips. "That sounds great, babe. And I went ahead and picked up a little cake from this really good bakery I found." You grinned up at him as his eyes lit up at the mention of cake.

"Well, in that case..." He picked you up as you squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging for dear life as he spun around towards the bed, lightly dropping you onto it with a dramatic, "And Cody Rhodes, slaming Y/n L/n on the bed!" Sending you into a fit of giggles that lasted through the night.

------------------------------------------------------

The sound of someone's ringtone was what woke you up the next morning. "Cody." You reached behind you, slapping his chest to wake him up. It was his phone that was ringing.

"Ugh. Hello?" You heard him answer as he threw back the sheets and sat up.

You reached out and grabbed your own phone to check the time. 6:43 am. You groaned and dropped your phone to the table, face-planting back onto the bed.

"Y/n," Cody shook your back to wake you up. You just groaned in response, too tired to do anything else. "Y/n I'm so sorry, baby they have some more stuff for me to do. But, you should come with me. Please?"

You were too tired to really think anything other than you wanted to be with Cody, so you agreed and begrudgingly got up and ready, and next thing you knew you were sitting next to him in the backseat of your Uber to who knows where.

You ignored any attempts from Cody at a conversation, deciding to scroll through Instagram instead, hyping up some of the WWE women in their comments.

You continued to ignore him, even after he told the driver to stop at your favorite coffee chain super quick.

You let him kiss your head before he ran in, leaving you in the car only to be back a few minutes later with the largest size of your favorite drink.

"Thank you," You said, taking the drink from him and taking a sip before going back to your phone. 

He sighed before going to his phone, feeling hopeless at getting you to no longer be upset with him. You started to feel bad but stuck to your feelings.

He had promised the day together and now he was working and had taken you with him.

You couldn't even eat your own birthday cake because it was back at the hotel!

So yeah, you were in a bit of a bitchy mood today.

The rest of the day consisted of you sitting backstage as you watched Cody in his interviews. He would try to talk to you in between but his schedule wound up being so busy that he would just be rushed right past you every time.

"I swear, I'll make it up to you." He had promised.

It wasn't until you had finally made it back to your hotel that afternoon that he was able to fulfill that promise. 

Walking into the room, rose gold and white balloons filled the room with rose petals covering every surface. The cake you had bought was laid out neatly on the dining table and 'Happy Birthday Y/n' had been written on it in white frosting.

Perfectly wrapped presents were piled in the corner and you could smell your favorite candle burning from somewhere in the room.

Your eyes welled up at the sight and you turned around to see his guilty face once again.

"I really am sorry, Y/n. I swear I wasn't supposed to work today but stuff comes up. But like I said, I'll make it up to you in any and every way I can.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and rifled through all the cards before pulling one out.

At your raised eyebrow, he handed you his credit card, kissing the top of your head. "This is just the start, but, feel free to go wild." And feel free you did.

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (Pt 4)

Sylus x right hand man!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ao3

Summary: After the events of the entire week, you had completely forgotten about the date Aries had set up with you.

The first thing you did the next day was check up on MC.

Still in your pajamas (with the addition of the signature hood and bandages), you cautiously knocked on her door, and when no answer came, you opened it slowly. She was still passed out on her bed, in the same position you put her in. You let her borrow some of your clothes(as if you needed every single pair of sleepwear, anyway); wouldn’t want her sleeping in dirty hunter’s gear, right?

You did her vitals just to see if she was still going to be alive by tomorrow. Your pointer and middle finger pressed against her wrist; from the heat of her skin along with her pulse, you knew that she was alive, albeit the pulse was weak. You leaned forward to listen to her breathing, your hand placing itself against her chest. At least she was breathing normally.

“Checking her vitals, I see.” Sylus’ voice interrupted your beautiful peace and quiet, and you refused to look at him. You stayed sitting down on the edge of MC’s bed, raising the blanket a bit more and brushing her hair away. 

A huff of breath was the only thing you heard before you sensed his presence behind you, and suddenly, his hand was on your shoulder. “(Nickname).” His voice was softer now, as if it were indirectly asking for an apology.

You sighed, turning your head to look at him, brows raised as you pursed your lips pettily. You didn’t say anything, and it ticked him off. “Giving me the silent treatment, huh? You wound me.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, shrugging his hand away before you began to walk. But the moment your hand felt the smoothness of the door, you yelped when you were reeled back towards Sylus by your waist, and then he was hugging you from behind. Tightly.

“Come on, (Nickname), don’t be like that,” he whispered in your ear, and for the second time this week, you shivered because of the close proximity of his deep voice, and you hated just how deep it was. “I did what I had to do.”

“You could’ve done it some other way.” Your voice was strained when you spoke. “You could’ve proved to her that you can’t die some other way.”

“Well, she wanted to kill me, (Nickname), what was I supposed to do—”

“She did not want to kill you,” you laughed out. You realized that your back was still pressed up against his chest, but you tried to pay it no mind. “She only thought that because she knows you’re Onichynus’ leader. I would’ve acted the same way.”

“And yet you didn’t. When you were in the same position as her. Twice.”

“Hey, it was an instinct the first time.”

“And the second?”

You stayed silent before opening the door, letting yourself slip away from Sylus’ grasp. “That was different.” You muttered. Muttered so low, you prayed your boss couldn’t hear you.

In the hallway, just when you were about to turn towards the kitchen, Sylus grabbed your wrist. “Wait.”

And so you did.

He pulled you closer towards him, making you twirl around so that he was no longer facing your back. Sylus gingerly removed the hood from your face, running a hand through your hair. “Let me make it up to you, hmm?”

And God, was it tempting.

Sylus’ eyes flickered to your lips. If he were to be honest, he loved seeing you in the mornings before you went to the Association. It was one of the only reasons why he would wake up the same time you do every now and then. You were always in your natural state, relaxed and not necessarily his right-hand man, but just… you.

He also loved how your lips parted the moment he gazed at them.

As for you, however, you despised his lips, even if the urge to glance at them back was too strong for you to refuse. You hated his defined cupid’s bow, and how the edges always curled into a small smirk no matter the situation. 

A hand snaked up your lower back, easing you closer to him, and you let it. Your entire body melted into his touch, and you knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this. You were supposed to be mad at him, and you two weren’t even a thing in the first place! How can he pull a stunt like this and expect you to not expect a relationship!?

Just when your lips were about to be slotted against his, you pushed him away, patting his chest as you smiled humorlessly. “Make me breakfast this time. I won’t tell you what I want, and if you get it right, maybe I’ll consider it.”

You didn’t notice the way Sylus’ facial features dropped slightly because you turned around too quickly. And honestly, he was glad you didn’t. “Plus, don’t just make it up to me. Apologize to MC, too.”

His laugh echoed in the halls. “You want me to… ‘make it up’ to MC, too?”

The implication made your stomach twist, but you were never going to tell Sylus that. “Do whatever you want.”

“Maybe I could do that…”

“Womanizer.”

Sylus’ boisterous laugh echoed in your mind this time. “I haven’t even done anything and you’re already calling me a womanizer.”

You sat down on one of the island’s stools in the kitchen, your hood now shrugged off as you fiddled in removing your bandages. Shrugging, your eyes never left your arms. “Well, you never know, huh? You were just about to kiss me a minute ago.”

You didn’t get a reply after that. Instead, you heard the shifting of plates and metalware. With scrunched up brows, you finally glanced up at what your boss was doing, only to be hit with a whiff of something sweet.

You tried not to give Sylus a reaction when he began making pancakes from scratch, measuring each dry ingredient with precision. You’d been craving pancakes for so long now, but you were always just so lazy to make them. And for the past couple days, you didn’t even have the chance to ask the chef to make them for you because of how demanding Sylus suddenly became.

Sylus couldn’t help but smirk when he saw your facade of indifference, your eyes fluttering about in order to not look at what he was making and smile. And after 30 minutes or so, when he placed a plate of a stack of pancakes in front of you, you heard your stomach growl. You prayed Sylus didn’t hear it.

Your eyes widened at the finished product before you crossed your arms, pursing your lips. “Jokes on you, Sylus, but I actually wanted—”

“Souffle pancakes?” Another plate scratched along the marble island, and to your surprise, he had baked those, too. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from you as your eyes lit up. “I could’ve sworn it’s just been 30 minutes. How did you make two kinds of pancakes in just 30 minutes?”

He seemed to revel in your indirect praise, though that facade of indifference transferred onto his face. Sylus merely tilted his head, lifting a brow. “So am I forgiven?”

“...”

“(Nickname).”

You huffed, picking up the fork that Sylus placed beside the plates. “Yes, I guess so. Sometimes, you’re just so insufferable.” As you spoke, you begrudgingly cut the souffle pancake, marveling at just how near-perfect it was. When did Sylus ever learn to cook this well?

His deep laugh vibrated throughout your body, making you feel… rather unwanted things. “We’re getting somewhere.” 

You finished the souffle tastefully, enjoying the comfortable silence you had with your boss. But it got you thinking; why was he going out of his way to make you feel better? Sure, he was affectionate before, and that stuff like this shouldn’t mean anything, but this somehow feels…different.

You also hated how your mind immediately answered your question of why it feels different. How long had it been since he’d seen most of you? 4… days? No, 5…?

Wait, 7 days ago you went on a date with Aries. When did he say the next date was…?

…Oh.

FUCK.

Your eyes widened when you finally remembered what day it was, and you hopped off of the island’s stool, not even able to finish the other patch of regular pancakes. You had to look presentable when you go to the Association today! Aries was going to pick you up from work.

As a string of curses came out of your mouth, amusing Sylus. He took your fork and began cutting a piece of his work with it. “And where are you going in a hurry? You don’t have to go to work for another hour.”

“I have a date that I totally forgot about.” You quickly replied, checking the time. You needed to put on makeup, do your hair—ugh, should you just put it up or should you let it out? Something basic or something elegant? And what clothes should you bring for the date? You didn’t want to be in your hunter’s uniform in a (most likely) fancy restaurant!

As you bolted out of the kitchen and into the long hallway to get fixed, Sylus lips twitched into a slight frown at your words. A date. With… ugh, what was his name again? See? He was already so irrelevant that Sylus had forgotten his name already!

…Aries. Yeah, no, his name was Aries.

‘What does she even see in him, anyway?’ Sylus thought to himself, stabbing the pancakes with the fork. ‘They barely know each other. I know that he’s not her type. And I’m such a better pick—’

Sylus’ train of thought snapped the moment he heard the plate crack in half, the poor pancakes being stabbed by the cracked porcelain. He clicked his tongue, gritting his jaw as he walked out of the room. He’ll have someone take care of that.

—--

“Okay, girl, I see you! Why are you dolled up so fancy today?” Tara walked with you towards the entrance the moment she spotted you, and you grinned sheepishly, glancing at the sleek jewelry on your hands. “I have a date again with Aries.”

“Your sugar daddy—”

“He is not my sugar daddy!” You exclaimed, realizing the entire lobby of the Association quieted down at your remark. Tara stifled a laugh which made you take a breath. You muttered an apology into the air before grabbing your friend’s arm, making her giggle. “He’s not my sugar daddy. Just… a really rich guy that… likes me.”

“Oh, okay, so those bracelets and rings and necklaces you showed me last time we called didn’t mean anything like that, then? Hey, is that a new—”

“Tara,” your voice was clipped, though there was a hint of playfulness in it. “One more word about it, and I’ll have your Bulgari bag returned.”

She gasped, before slapping your arm lightly as you two got into the elevator. “Please, no! I take care of that bag like it’s my baby! Ugh, it might as well be!”

Sugar daddy? Sylus snickered as he watched you through the eyes of Mephisto, who was perched up on one of the buildings’ rooftops. Your voice was so loud that his ears rang slightly due to Mephisto’s advanced hearing, but it only made him laugh. So you talk about him, then?

He faltered, remembering the bracelets and rings you snatched from your array of jewelry that Sylus made sure you had. They weren’t things he would think of getting you; everything was far too cheap in Cartier. Plus, rings from Sylus were seldom given to you. He believed that rings are the much more… intimate kind of jewelry.

No, he hadn’t given you those. Aries did. 

God, he’d known you for, what, just 2 weeks, and he’s already attempting to spoil you with “riches”? If Aries wanted to do that, he needed to step up his game. 

…Well, not like Sylus could care. 

Has MC woken up yet?

—--

“—And then, my boss, all of a sudden, begins acting all obsessed with this one colleague of mine, as if he hasn’t been feeling me the past 2 years I’ve worked for him.” Your head bobbed with every syllable as you talked, your food long forgotten the moment Aries asked how your day was going. “Then he has the audacity to work me twice as hard just because my colleague wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Selfish, I’m telling you!”

Aries had just nodded politely throughout your entire 15 minute long rant—and counting. He was glad you were finally opening up to him but… not in the way he expected.

“And, who is your boss, if you don’t mind me asking?” He took a sip of his wine, eyes still locked on yours. Apparently, you weren’t expecting that question from him, so you just blinked at your date in surprise, letting out a small scoff as if to say, as if I can tell you that. 

You noticed he was serious, though, and a small “ah” left your lips. You licked them from being dry from you talking too much, desperate to ignore how his gaze dropped to them. “I-I can’t tell you that. All I can tell you is that… he demands a lot. But I…” You hesitated, staring at your food, then at your wine. “He’s not actually that bad, you know? He’s kind… somewhat. But infuriating for the majority. But, he’s observant, too, and when I feel as if… everything is too much, he doesn’t hesitate to ask how I’ve been. Sometimes, I tell him he’s being too soft, especially for someone with our line of work, but I can tell that he doesn’t care.” You finally took a bite of your food, and almost groaned at how good it tasted. Though, it doesn’t rival anything Sylus’ chef makes. Or anything Sylus… makes—goddamnit.

Aries furrowed his brows, trying to rack his brain as to who your boss might be. “I don’t know anyone who sounds like your boss at the Association. You're in UNICORNS, right? …Isn’t your boss Jenna?”

You choked on your food, making Aries jump in his seat, hand out with a napkin and ready to save you. You shook your head politely, telling him you were okay before you washed down your throat with some wine. Mm, more acidic than you’d like, but it was okay. “Ah, I work two jobs to…” You puffed your cheeks out, trying to think of a lie. “Try and make ends meet; that’s how you saw me in that one auction. And,” you put a hand out when you saw Aries open his mouth, making you grin. “Don’t even try giving me money. You’re already giving me a lot as is.”

Aries burst into laughter, making you stifle laughter yourself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Damn, you knew just what I was about to say—”

“Yeah, duh, I saw you opening your mouth to offer cash!” You exclaimed before pouting your lips, deep in thought. “Though, on second thought, I could never say no to money—”

Mephisto’s head tilted sharply as his creator’s jaw audibly ticked from how hard he was grinding on his teeth. Sylus shouldn’t be doing this, watching you on your date. You told him not to. But… that was just one time. And with a predictable restaurant like this, it was practically begging to be found.

In all honesty, Sylus had half-expected to be smirking at awkwardness and reliance on alcohol to keep the conversation going. So, imagine his surprise when he saw you two… bonding. Somehow, he couldn’t make out the initial part of the date for some reason where it was just you talking and Aries nodding, but he was able to the moment the both of you started laughing together.

You. And Aries, a man you just met 2 weeks ago, were laughing like old friends.

Now, Sylus is a very straightforward man with his emotions, especially since he has no shame in identifying and expressing them. He knew that he was… jealous, of all things, now, but he wasn’t quite sure why. You were… He heard himself scoff. You were something, to say the least. Determined, hard-headed, stubborn, intelligent yet… lacking so much common sense. He couldn’t blame you, though; with how much information was constantly running through your brain because of your wrist, being a ditz sometimes was more than understandable.

When you would actually do your job, God, it amuses him more than it should. To see you flowing through tasks that need to be done within the day, reports you need to give him ASAP, all the while you had that little furrow of your brows and fire in your eyes… 

It was a treat.

Sylus’ thoughts snapped back into reality when he heard you and Aries laugh together once more, making him seethe. He should really stop daydreaming; it’s bad for what he does, and he might end up risking more than he bargained for.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, eyes piercing your skin as you talked. Throughout the years you worked for Sylus, you knew how to act as if everything was perfectly normal even if they felt off. So, as Aries was talking about some new firearms, your eyes flitted towards the forever night of the N109 Zone, to a tall building that covered some of the moonlight, to a little crow that you knew all too well.

You snickered. Of course Sylus was here; this place was honestly such a predictable pick.

“(Name)?” Aries’ voice caught your attention and made you snap back into reality. His eyes tried to look for what you were looking at a couple seconds ago before giving up. “Is there something there?”

“...” You stayed silent for a split second, wondering if you should finally tell him about your weird relationship with Sylus, both as your boss and as the weird in between of a boss and a lover.

“No, sorry. I just really like the moon.” You instead said, smiling at your date reassuringly in order to not draw any unwanted attention to the red flashing eye of Mephisto far away. 

Aries just stared at you, a soft smile on his lips, before glancing at yours for a split second. “Yeah, the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

—--

Sylus almost fucking threw his built-in desk across the room.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Is this guy serious? If he wanted to profess his love for you, then he should’ve made it grand! Spent millions and millions for a consecutive amount of days until the last day, where you two would stay in a luxurious restaurant on the balcony of a building that barely anyone can get to. A restaurant that’s famous for proposals.

Sylus picked up his phone and began to call you, and a small twinge of smugness and pride spread throughout him when you immediately picked up. 

“What the fuck, Sylus!? Didn’t I say I was on a date?” You scolded him through the phone, your voice a hushed whisper. He couldn’t hear the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant you were at, so he assumed you excused yourself. Well, not like he really cared.

“I’m picking you up.” He declared, putting his phone on speaker to fix his outfit a bit. 

“WHAT!? Are you insane!? We haven’t even gotten dessert—”

“There’s dessert at home, (Nickname). You have everything in the world at home and yet you choose to settle for less.”

“...” The line was silent for a while before he heard you sigh. “Whatever. Let me just wrap this up. I’ll see you later?”

“I’m giving you 5 minutes, and you’ll see me later.”

—--

You put your phone down before glancing at Aries, who was idling swirling his wine. You felt bad for leaving the date so early in the night, but it’s not like you had any real romantic feelings for this man. He felt easy to talk to, yet at the same time you will never forget how uneasy his presence made you feel the first time you met him. 

You walked towards him with an apologetic smile on your face. “I’m so sorry, Aries, but I have to go. My boss is calling me.”

His face dropped at your words before he nodded in understanding, his eyes glancing down at his wine once more. Aries chugged down the entire glass, leaving you surprised, before standing up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Listen, I know things haven’t been necessarily smooth between us two, but I really want us to work. I’ve noticed how your mind easily slips away to somewhere else during our dates. Even with that, will you still give me a chance?”

Your eyes widened at his words, lips parted in shock. He glanced at them and instinctively licked his. Honestly, you couldn’t say no to that, especially with how polite he was about it. You smiled softly, nodding. “Of course, I can. It’s not like I never said I wouldn’t, right?”

Aries grinned at your words before taking in a deep inhale. “Can I kiss you?”

That was where you hesitated for the slightest bit. Aries didn’t catch it, but you felt your heart sink when you realized that you were still hesitating. You sucked it up, though, before matching his smile. Cupping his cheek, you brought him closer, lips brushing against his. It was a chaste kiss, but it did feel longer than it was supposed to be.

It was pleasant for once, having someone want you again. Sylus used to make you feel that way, but the moment MC came in, you were put back in your place. It was kind of foolish to think that Sylus, out of all people, would be the one to give you the yearning you always craved for since he was just your boss.

Yes, just your boss—that’s what he was. You have to keep reminding yourself that.

Sylus opened the door to the restaurant, not even having to flip the entire place down in order to find you, since you and your date were the only ones standing up and… 

His face tensed when he watched you kissing Aries, hands cupping his cheeks. Subconsciously, a finger placed itself on his own lips, remembering what yours felt like. It was a memory that plagued his dreams every time he so much as attempted to sleep. 

Shaking his head, Sylus crossed his arms, his evol sneaking up to your back to bring your attention to him. You opened your eyes and pulled away from your date, frozen in your spot when you noticed your boss standing right there.

“I really have to go now,” you whispered to Aries, who nodded. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’ll see you next week?”

You nodded before walking towards your boss, and when your back now turned from Aries, you shot Sylus a warning glare, basically telling him to keep cover since you haven’t even told Aries who your boss was.

Alas, all of that was in vain; Sylus didn’t want to budge, and Aries did in fact turn around to watch you go. A small squeak from him made you turn around to see his reaction. His eyes darted from you to Sylus, and you just scrunched your nose apologetically.

Sylus’ lips curled up slightly when he realized that you never told just who you worked for during the night. With a satisfied and smug grin on his face, you walked with him to his motorcycle, not even sparing another glance at your date.

—--

“Sir, I don’t think she’s falling for me.”

“What makes you say that? Didn’t you two kiss? Twice?”

“...Well, yes, but both times felt like pity kisses, and I don’t even remember the first time…”

“Then make her like you, dammit! I don’t care how you do it, just do it. I didn’t raise you for nothing.”

“Yes, sir. And wait, before you leave—”

“What, boy?”

“...You never told me that she worked for the leader of Onichynus.”

“It seemed like you didn’t need to know, and the plan has worked somewhat with you thinking he was just his whore, right?”

“...Right.”

@readerxyourbabe here you go babes :))

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember Day 11: Attitude Adjustment/IQ Reduced

It was like she couldn't get the words out fast enough. "And I have 6 discharges tomorrow with no follow up scheduled yet and I haven't even been able to contact some of the families and..."

"Is there anything you can do about any of that tonight?" he asked her, gently stopping the torrent of her work recap.

"No. But! I still need to eat dinner. And wash some clothes for tomorrow. And make sure the kids are ok...."

"Shh," he said comfortingly. "I've already washed and folded the clothes. And I told the kids mommy was working late so they're already asleep. You're done for the day."

She sighed deeply.

He put his hand on her cheek, gently moving her head so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Relaaaax," he said, stretching the word out meaningfully. His tone shifted too, to something deep and steady. "You're home. You're safe. Just relax, now."

It had been a while since she heard him speak like this. She missed it.

Too bad it wouldn't work. She was way too stressed. She almost felt herself get caught in his gaze for a moment but- then her anxiety rushed back in, like a wave crashing over a too-short wall.

His hand moved around to rub the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just so stressed I can't THINK it's like I try and it's just STATIC in my head. I sat in the parking lot for 5 minutes before I could even make myself drive home."

"Mmmmm," he murmured, still rubbing her neck. "Breathe, honey."

He breathed in and out slowly to demonstrate. She found herself following along, taking a few deep breaths before even thinking about it. Between the breathing and his light neck massage, she was beginning to feel better.

He made sure he had her gaze before offering- "If you want, I could make things simpler for you for a bit. Would you like that?"

A shiver ran through her at the sound of her old trigger- "simpler". It had been some time since they had done this but they both understood what he was offering. Would it still work?

She nodded her head but didn't want to disappoint him or herself- not after so long.

"I want to? But I honestly don't know how I'll respond," she said, "I can barely concentrate right now."

But even as she was protesting, she found herself automatically following his hand as it floated just above her forehead. Another of their old signals, this one nonverbal: "Pay attention".

She did.

His fingers came closer and closer to her forehead before finally touching, rubbing a small spiral right in the middle.

"Shhhhh...." his voice soothed.

Something inside her shifted.

It wasn't a quick, profound drop like she had experienced in the past but- she found herself instinctively closing her eyes anyway. When she did, the noise in her head seemed to quiet down automatically.

"Good," he said. "That's perfect. You remember just how to do this, don't you? I know you do. It's like riding a bicycle - part of you never forgets."

"I know you talked about having static in your head- but maybe we can use that to help you let go a bit more. Static doesn't have to be harsh, you know. Maybe your static is like- a white noise generator, blocking anything unnecessary out. Quiet and soothing. Like the one you listen to when you go to sleep. Just- think of that gentle static playing while you sleep. Helping you rest. You can notice it- and then you can let it all fade into the background. It just makes everything quieter, doesn't it? Simpler. "

She nodded her head, easily caught in his instructions. The shudder that went through her at the trigger felt more profound this time.

Simpler.

She remembered the old imagery they had worked on- the wheels of the clockwork of her thoughts slowing. Slowing. Grinding to a halt.

As she pictured those slowing gears, she could feel her inner monologue growing distant and dreamlike. Her awareness moved from her lumbering thoughts to her body- almost like her mind itself had moved from her head to somewhere in her chest. Her senses began heightening and she was drawn more and more to what the room smelled like, how the carpet felt, the gentle sound of the ceiling fan. She found herself getting lost in a world of sensation.

"That's good, honey," he encouraged. "You don't need to think right now. I've got all your bigger thoughts for safekeeping. You remember how to be simpler for me, don't you? No big words, no big thoughts. Just how you feel in this moment. OK?"

She nodded. It was the easiest way to communicate now. She still had some words but- it was easier not to use them when she was simpler. She trusted him to understand what she needed without bothering to speak.

"Good. Can you open your eyes for me?"

She did.

"How does your body feel right now?" he asked.

She checked- mentally scanning herself from head to toe.

"Tired," she replied eventually. "Hungry."

She looked up at him.

"Do you want some food?"

It took her a few moments to contemplate the thought before she eventually replied with a simple: "Yes".

He smiled at her in a way that might have struck her as patronizing at a different time.

His smile caused an unexpected spike in another sensation- one that had been hiding underneath all of her stress all along.

Until now.

"I'm going to warm dinner up- we'll have it here," he was saying. "I'll be right back."

"Wait!" she cried, suddenly.

He stopped and turned back, curiously.

Now she needed to find words again.

Her brows crossed as she tuned into her body in that slow, deep way that came with this state. There was a heat between her legs that spread upwards as she noticed it more thoroughly. She began to notice the feeling of the air on her arms and the slight way her bra rubbed against her breasts when she breathed. "Horny?" she said, finally finding the right word for how she was feeling.

He laughed. "Good girl. Yeah- that old conditioning is still working for you, huh? I bet you feel horny right now. Does it feel good?"

She nodded, that response coming much more quickly than most.

It DID feel good.

Without really thinking about it, her hands moved to her right breast, squeezing it.

THAT felt even better.

"Mmmm- I guess that's my answer then, huh?" he asked. "Tell you what- you need to eat before we do anything else. So- I'm going to go get the food. But while I'm doing that? You can touch yourself as much as you want. Do whatever feels good to your body, ok?"

She nodded again, barely paying attention to his words. Her hands moved all over her flesh as she caressed her newly sensitive skin rapturously. She wanted to touch everywhere.

"My only rule is that you don't come, ok? I want to save that for later."

She nodded absently, focused on a wonderful spot she had found on the side of her stomach. Part of her brain was receiving his instructions but- she didn't have to think about that part. She just had to focus on touching.

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "And stay nice and quiet while you touch, yeah? We don't want to wake anyone else up."

She nodded, biting back a moan as her hand finally slid to her pussy.

He looked on for a moment, seeming almost hypnotized himself by his writhing, almost animalistic wife.

Food first, he reminded himself.

Then sex.

Then putting a note in his phone to call the babysitter for her weekend availability. It had been FAR too long since they had played like this and next time?

He wanted her to be LOUD.

Tagging @mentat101posts @thekinkycocktailclub @jam-and-stuff

[soleilceirinen]

WHEN THE DARKNESS COMES | Thomas Shelby x Shadowhunter!Reader - Part 5

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster. Warning: nothing. A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes and thanks for reading! Words: 2.9k

Part 4 - PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST

What are you supposed to wear to the races?

Despite not having been there before, at least you knew that it was some sort of social event, right? So you decided to wear a dress, the one that you brought with you to Birmingham just in case. Guess today was the day.

You took your time doing your hair and makeup, feeling the palm of your hands tingle with excitement. Tommy was taking you to the races and that had to mean something. Was it a date?

A little voice in your head reminded you of the purpose of your presence in Small Heath, but you pushed the thought away. For once, you were going on a date with no one but the leader of a gang, who by the way, was quite attractive and also had shown an interest in you.

Just a day, you thought, tomorrow I’ll continue with my duty. I swear by the Angel.

Without realising it, you had been clutching your tiny purse in your fists, so hard that your knuckles had turned white. Slowly, you softened the grip while shifting your weight from the tip to the heel of your feet as you waited for Tommy to come and pick you up. 

There was no reason to be nervous, but nevertheless, you were. And it was kind of irrational because almost every night you faced the most disgusting demons, all your life since you were a little girl, you had been surrounded by horror and death. Tommy was just a man, probably mundane. The small possibility of him being a warlock was not clear yet but still, why couldn’t you think of him without your heart beating like crazy?

You did not have the privilege to behave like a silly teenager in love, you were a nefilim. However, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you remembered the night before. The thought of his plumped lips devouring your mouth with his hand on the back of your neck and the taste of whiskey on his tongue. 

Nothing to worry about, you repeated to yourself, like a mantra. You had been in worse situations.

In order to try to calm down, you started thinking. Perhaps you were feeling a bit uneasy due to the fact that you were quite exposed since you were not wearing any sort of shadowhunter gear or weapons. Only your trusted old dagger, attached to your thigh where your dress covered it from anyone’s sight. Your bag was too small to carry any weapon in it, even your stele did not fit, it was too long. 

Hopefully, none of those things was going to be necessary. Who or what was going to attack you in broad daylight? One of the horses? No demon would come out until the sun went down, anyway. And there were still several hours until that moment.

A car stopped in front of you, pulling you out of the tangled labyrinth of thoughts about everything that could go wrong.

Tommy was in it, watching you with interest. His blue eyes scanned you from head to toe. When he finished, you could see a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. He raised an eyebrow as you approached the vehicle.

“Hello, Thomas”, you said, getting into the car. With the small bag on your lap, you crossed your hands over it and stared at the man sitting next to you.

He leaned over to kiss your cheek, barely touching your soft skin. “Hello,” he replied hoarsely. The scent of cigarettes filled your nose. “That’s a nice dress.” 

You looked down and touched the fabric with your fingers. “Thank you, I wasn’t sure about what I should wear.”

“Well,” he started the car, “you surely look lovely.”

Biting your lip, you tried to hide a smile and glanced away in a futile attempt to keep your thoughts at bay. It was complicated though, with Tommy’s hand on your leg.

-

The place where the races were held was packed with people. You caught glimpses of them staring at you as Tommy guided you through the crowd with a hand on the small of your back. Even when he stopped to talk to some of them, about business or politics as you could hear, he did not let you go away. He kept his hand constantly connected to your body, until you found the stables and Tommy took a few steps away from you, stopping in front of a horse. 

You approached them carefully, trying to avoid ruining your shoes, and admired the beautiful animal. 

“This is your horse?” you wondered in awe, slowly bringing your hand closer to the animal’s snout. 

The smell of the horses and the hay brought back some memories from your childhood in Idris, suddenly you felt very small. Tommy nodded in silence, caressing the horse’s neck with affection. 

After weeks of following Thomas Shelby around, watching and studying his every move and even the slightest interaction, this was the first time you had seen him showing anything resembling tenderness. This man had nothing to do with the intimidating and cruel facade that he showed to the rest of the world. In front of you, you had a man who was whispering words of affection to his horse in a language that you were not able to understand. 

“Oh! You’re here, Tommy” a feminine voice caught you off guard. She hadn’t seen you yet, so she kept talking to him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, not before the races at least. I’ve been thinking about our last conversation and…” 

Her voice grew smaller when you moved to the side, stepping away from the horse and a little closer to Tommy. The lady’s dark eyes danced from you and Tommy, almost as if indecisive. 

“I’m showing the horses to Y/N,” he said as if that explained his presence there, brushing your arm when he said your name. Her eyes finally rested on you for a moment, taking in the information before returning to Tommy. He was looking at you. “This is May Carleton, she trains my horses.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you said, as friendly as you could. 

She nodded, touching her hair and quickly looking away. You almost felt bad for her, disappointment oozed from every pore of her skin despite her attempt to hide it.

It made you wonder if something had happened between them. Probably, based on the way she tried to meet his eyes but he wasn’t into her, at least not anymore from what you could tell. 

It did not surprise you. Actually, it just confirmed one of your assumptions about Thomas, the fact that he was the kind of man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. 

May’s face was so devastated that it only increased your sympathy for her. It wasn’t her fault to have fallen in love with him. The bastard had something that made it really hard to ignore him. He was like a light in the darkness alluring you to get closer and once you realise it, it is too late. You’re burnt and he is leaving you. 

Tommy cleared his throat and placed his hand in the small of your back once again, ready to lead you out of the stables. “We’re going to find our seats before the race starts, we’ll talk another day, May.”

As you two moved forward among the crowd, you gave him a side glance. He seemed unfazed after the encounter with her. 

“You could have been a bit nicer, you know. She clearly still feels something,” you said once you found your seats. 

He raised an eyebrow at you and shook his head, lightning a cigarette. 

“What May and I had ended a long time ago. Our current agreement is purely professional.”

“Does she know?”

“She’s a smart woman, she must have figured it out by now.”

-

You had no idea of what to expect of the horse races but definitely it was not this. People cheered and talked loudly about their bets and the horses and whatever. And you were bored as hell. Thomas kept his eye on his horse and he even smiled from time to time, probably every time he won a bet which meant he was making money.

It was hard to stay focused and enjoy, as much as you tried. Everyone around seemed to be having the time of their lives but you just couldn’t. The nerves were creeping up your stomach, making it impossible. Something was off, but you didn't know what it was. 

On more than one occasion, your intuition had saved your life. So you began to scan the crowd, searching for something that could explain your uneasiness.

As you did so, your fingers dug into Tommy’s forearm a little too hard. He frowned and turned his head to look at you. “Something is going on, I don’t know what it means yet but I would say that we are being watched,” you told him in a low voice. 

Tommy took a quick look around and shrugged before glancing back at you. He sighed at the sight of your face contorted with worry. His hand caressed your cheek.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he said softly, resting an arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to him protectively. As if you were a naive and vulnerable girl, as if he had forgotten the fact that you were a demon hunter. “People will stare, it’s normal. Don’t you know who I am? Also, my date is a beautiful woman. Let them look all they want.”

His arrogance made you frown. “No, Thomas. It’s not about that, you don’t understand what I mean. I think this is something beyond mundane, and we need to get out of here. We are too exposed, I need to figure out what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” he said firmly. You opened your mouth to reply but he put a finger over your lips, pressing them gently. “Take a look around, see all the Peakys? We are safer here than anywhere else right now.”

He was right, all around you could see men wearing peaked caps and tailored suits. You even recognised some of them, there was Arthur and others whose names you did not remember. However, you were convinced that whatever it was, they couldn’t stop it. 

“Love, look at me.”

You looked up at him, he seemed so calmed that it made you feel a bit embarrassed. What if you had just let yourself get carried away? Tommy squeezed your hand. 

“But Tommy…”

“But nothing,” he cut you off before you could keep insisting. “Enjoy the races. I have a surprise for later.”

He was smiling almost imperceptibly, only for you to see it. You pursed your lips and ended up nodding, there was no point in trying to convince him, he was as stubborn as a wild horse. Even more than that.

So you rested your head on his shoulder and looked up, staring at the sky. The sun was starting to set. Now, more than ever, you regretted not bringing enough weapons with you. 

-

Relief filled your body once everything was over and you stood up, ready to leave. Tommy seemed to be in a good mood. Once again, he guided you through the crowd, this time he offered you his arm to hold on to as you made your way back to the car. You let him guide you, without paying attention to him or what he was talking about, still alert to any suspicious movement around. 

As you walked further into the dark streets, the feeling of being followed intensified. You were only a few metres from the car when you looked over your shoulder and saw it.

You stopped walking, digging your heels into the ground and making Tommy stop as well, he gave you a questioning look that you did not return because your gaze was on the alley you two had just walked by a few seconds ago.

A creature had sneaked there so fast that if you hadn’t been feeling that something was off all that time, it probably would have gone unnoticed. It seemed to be a ravener demon, like the one you had killed the night before.

Was it following you, or Tommy?

With a fluid movement you unhooked your arm from his and threw him your bag. It hit him in the chest but he managed to grab it before it fell to the floor. Reaching under your dress, you grabbed the dagger. The blade shone under the street lights. 

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second. Don’t get any closer,” you warned him, adjusting your grip on the dagger. 

Before he could reply anything, you had already disappeared running towards the alley. But Tommy was not the kind of man who follows other people’s orders. He headed towards the alley too, stopping a few steps away from the entrance, unable to take his eyes off the scene in front of him.

The demon was hiding there, waiting for you. It only took you a couple of minutes to kill it, although you ended up covered in black, viscous ichor.

“Damn it,” you muttered, dropping the dagger and wiping your hands and arms on the fabric of your dress, trying to clean as much ichor as possible from your skin. The dress was ruined. 

You hissed at the burning sensation, taking a moment to put yourself together. Then, you turned around to face the entrance of the alley. Tommy was standing there, a lonely figure in the middle of the dark street. But wait, he was not alone. There was someone else. 

Suddenly, it all clicked in your head. The ravener demon was just a distraction, the real danger was still out there. 

Tommy was staring at you wide eyed. He had presumably witnessed the whole encounter with the creature and now more than ever since he saw you for the first time, he looked as if he had lost his mind.

Actually, he was kind of astonished by the speed at which you had moved and the way you had made that horrible thing disappear. 

He was not paying attention to his surroundings and even if you warned him, he could not react fast enough to avoid the man approaching him from the back. Luckily, you could move faster than a regular human. Using what was left of your speed rune, which wasn’t much because it had almost faded away at this point, you run to get between the man with the gun and Tommy. 

If you hadn’t been busy with the ravener, this guy would not have had a chance to get so close. The man pulled the trigger just when you were about to push Tommy away, the loud bang of it sent a shiver down your spine.

The sound seemed to snap Tommy out of his stupor. A million thoughts and emotions flooded his mind, this could not be happening. Not again. All of a sudden he was no longer in the middle of a dirty street but knelt on the floor while holding the limp body of his wife, who had just been shot by a bullet intended for him.

Tommy held you tightly, with his vision clouded by anger but focused. He took out his own gun and shot the man many times, not stopping until there were no more bullets left. The man fell like a ragged doll on the ground, a dark pool of blood under his thin body. 

It had all happened so fast... as you held onto Thomas tightly, he spoke softly in your ear. Or maybe he wasn't speaking softly, but the gunshots had sounded so close that you couldn't hear anything now. Well, you could hear your heartbeat inside your eardrums. And something else, a sharp pain that increased by each second. 

With trembling hands, you touched your chest just below your collarbone, where the pain was coming from. You looked at your fingers, covered in crimson. A sob escaped your lips and then you began to understand what Tommy was telling you. 

He kept repeating that you had to stay calm, that everything was going to be okay. A few men, Peaky Blinders, arrived at the scene alerted by the gunshots and Tommy started screaming orders at them. 

“I need an ambulance now!”, he shouted, returning his attention to you. “You’re alright Grace,” his voice was barely a whisper as he caressed your hair and rocked you back and forth. 

Even though it hurt, you tried to get out of his hold. Although it was the first time you had been shot, there were worse kinds of pain than the physical one. Tommy tried to make you stay still but you needed to see the man who had attacked you. 

Being closer now, you noticed his frail body, he seemed young. A teenager or a young man, he could not be older than you. But his hair was matted and completely silver. It was too dark to see the colour of his eyes but you were sure that they were silver too, just like the greyish tone of his skin.

A yin fen addict. 

[thestruidora]

Sweetheart

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Yandere, Borderline Personality Disorder, Stalker, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Therapy, Miscommunication, Plot With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean has borderline personality disorder and the reader is his favorite person.

Chapter Updates: Masterlist

Author's notes: I don't even what to write in here at this point. All I can say is that I really hope you guys enjoy because it took me fucking forever to write.

Chapter Four

The Tower

“The Tower is about sudden, shocking change. Change that can knock you off your feet and alter your future as you thought you knew it.”

“Alright, everyone, good work today. See you ladies tomorrow!” George, the construction site’s foreman, yelled out to the workers the second the clock struck 5 p.m.

“Fucking finally.” Dean murmured to himself, putting down the sledgehammer he was holding and taking off his safety gloves, hands free at last to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“That eager to come home to the wife, huh?” Sid asked him with a knowing smirk, and Dean smiled in return, amused at just how far off his colleague was.

“Oh, you don’t know how much.” He said it with ease, taking off his goggles and patting away the fine dust from his hair.

“I would be too if I had a great gal like Lisa to come home to.” Sid winked at Dean, hands busy with removing his own safety gear.

“Yeah, she’s… She’s great.” The Winchester nodded and looked to the side, the fake smile dying on his lips. “Anyways, I’mma head out. Talk to you tomorrow, Sid.” He bids his farewell, feet moving towards the parking lot, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“See ya.” Sid waves him off, even though Dean's back was already to him.

Once he's inside his monstrosity of a car — the respectful family minivan —, he lets out a long, deep-rooted sigh.

Out of the windshield, he can see the beginning of sunset, the light blue sky seamlessly turning to a burning orange. If you ask him, the end of his shift couldn't have come fast enough. The days have been longer than usual, each one stretching itself out more than the one before. The hours drag by, and it sure doesn't help that he's been counting them.

But he can't help it, he hasn't seen you in a long time. Too long. Almost two weeks. Twelve excruciating days.

He'll have his session with you in a couple of days, and you'll finally be face-to-face with him again. ‘Cause it's not like he hasn't seen you from afar this whole time, that'd be crazy. He has to keep an eye on you, right? To protect you.

That's what he's been doing. Protecting you. Ever since the very first time he set foot in your office and you told him that the two of you could no longer be friends, he dedicated himself to reverting the situation, but to no avail since you could be so stubborn.

His line of communication with you became thinner and thinner and it felt like the more he tried to reach for you, the more he risked breaking it altogether.

He no longer saw you at the dog park, since your friend with terrible timing had decided to come back from her vacation and get Loki back from you.

You had never officially given your personal phone number to him, even though he has had it for a while now. It couldn't have been easier to obtain, he just saved the contact after seeing your open phone bill atop the table in your living room on one of the many occasions in which he had let himself into your apartment.

So he couldn't just call you out of nowhere, it would be weird and it would raise questions.

He couldn't do it.

It didn't matter that you had canceled his last appointment and that had set him off into a panic attack, which he had never had before.

It didn't matter that he couldn't stop thinking that you had grown tired of him and his stupid problems and his endless daddy issues.

That he literally could not breathe at the thought of how worthless and pathetic you must think he is.

Even though your receptionist had assured him that she made a mistake and overbooked you that week, he couldn't believe that.

You were sick of him, that's what it was.

It had to be.

And even as he sits in the driver's seat of his revolting minivan, knowing full well that he's only a couple of days away from being with you in person, he can't help but want to be near you right now. Just so he can fix it. Whatever it was about him that made you loathe him and despise him, he can change.

He has to see you at that very instant.

It's all he can think about as he turns on the vehicle's engine and drives exactly at the speed limit from the construction site all the way to your house, parking on the other side of the street as he always does.

The big glass windows of your apartment allow for ample observation of whatever occurs inside, giving Dean a privileged view of your form as you turn on the lights on your way from your living room to the kitchen. Your silhouette is bathed in the warm glow of the lamps that shine through its surroundings and light up the space now that the sun has set and night has fallen.

He can see your fingers moving nimbly as you wash whatever dishes you find in the sink, bringing your damp hand to your forehead and then moving to rub at your nape with a sigh when you’re finished.

He can tell you still have your work clothes on as you must have just come home. And it’s not difficult to imagine how tired you are from the frown creasing in the middle of your eyebrows. He can visualize it so clearly now, his own fingers moving delicately across your skin to smooth that frown away.

He has watched you from this exact vantage point for months and it still feels like the first time with the way his heart aches with the need to be closer. The way his hand closes in a fist as though to contain the desire to reach out and touch you in some way.

But alas, he can’t. Because you would turn him away. You would be scared of him. He knows you would, so he just leans back in the car seat, attempting to control the flurrying in his chest, and watches.

You untie your hair from the ponytail you had it in as you move back to the living room and it falls around your face, caressing your neck. Something catches your attention and you walk to your discarded purse on top of the coffee table, retrieving your phone from it. Whatever it is that flashes through the screen causes a smile to appear on your lips before you raise the device to your ear and start to talk.

Dean fidgets in his seat with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing who is on the other end of the line, but he tries not to let his mind wander to dangerous places. Your sister, perhaps?

You use your shoulder to secure your phone to your ear as you bring your hands down to your shirt and begin to unbutton it. He sucks in a breath at the sight, unsure of what to do with himself as your fingers work their way down till the top is completely unbuttoned, your bare skin peeking through as well as the fabric of your bra.

He notices your mouth moving to form words he can't decipher while you pull your shirt completely off, throwing it on the spacious couch in the middle of your living room before your legs take you back to the kitchen, where you open the fridge to get a glass of water for yourself.

The refrigerator light illuminates the contours of your exposed stomach and collarbone, the supple flesh of your cleavage lightly bouncing up and down with the way your bust is confined tightly by your bra cups.

Dean thinks he might be on the verge of an aneurysm as he witnesses you drink from the once full glass till the water is entirely gone, a couple of drops escaping from your lips in your haste to quench your thirst, running down your jaw to your neck and disappearing in the space between your breasts.

Suddenly his own mouth is dry and he feels as if he's been lost in a desert for ages, those sinful droplets of water that are lucky enough to travel through the valleys of your body being the only source of hydration that can placate his craving.

Once you're satisfied, you leave the empty glass on the sink and go to the living room yet again, this time stopping by the wall adjacent to your flat-screen TV and bending down to freshen up the bowl of kibble for your cat, taking your time to shake the dish side to side till the shorthaired black Bombay saunters into the common area with a regal air about itself, tail swinging lazily and big golden eyes staring affectionately at you as it meows over and over.

You put down the food bowl on its original place on the floor and stretch your arms out to pet the head of the animal, a loving expression taking over your face, more words pouring out from you to meet the phone's receiver, whatever is being said by the other person causing you to laugh unreservedly, the content of the exchange still an unfortunate mystery to Dean.

The cat advances on its dinner and you observe it for a second, before getting up from your crouched down position and moving to stand directly in front of the perfectly transparent glass window from where he can see you.

Instead of making an attempt to hide, Dean props himself forward in your direction, the darkness of nightfall in your poorly lit neighborhood keeping him undetected by your eyes that scan the landscape through the window, seemingly not finding interest in anything in particular.

He gulps incredulously at what follows; you, phone once again glued to your ear with the help of your shoulder, taking your hands south to your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning it, tugging down the waist of the garment until the top of your panties is showing.

He's now a thousand percent sure that he's in absolute perfect health, because if that weren't the case, his heart would've given out by now. He can hear the organ rapidly beating in his ears, blood pumping fiercely, bringing heat to his face as a mixture of shame and excitement overtakes his mind.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be there. A better man would've turned on his car and driven away, and an even greater man wouldn't have come here at all. But Dean proves to be neither of those while he sits there and observes you languidly remove your pants and sigh contently once you've stripped yourself down to your underwear.

You stretch your neck to the left and then to the right, your torso accompanying the movement. Whoever is on the other line appears to say something that you appreciate thoroughly, with the way a wishful smile dances in the corners of your lips, and uneasiness builds inside of Dean at the sight.

He has never been a particularly jealous guy, not with his material possessions — except for Baby —, nor with his romantic partners which, to be fair, had been few in between. Countless one-night stands, sure. But only one or two real ‘girlfriends’ were all the relationships he had to draw reference from. Very short-lived relationships, not to mention.

Of course, there was Lisa, but he never really dated Lisa. They skipped that part and went straight into living together and a marriage proposal, with a kid and a dog in tow. And through it all, he had never experienced the burning feeling of insecurity that he’s feeling right about now.

Who are you talking to at the end of your day? Are these regular calls or just a singular, uncustomary thing? Is the caller an important person to you? Do they play a crucial role in your life? Do they fill a space that Dean could not?

That’s an ominous notion that he’s not sure he can bear. An ugly and twisted, unexpected emotion that Dean hadn’t been previously introduced to takes hold of him as those thoughts ruminate in his mind.

You walk away from the window and make your way towards the couch. A deep exhale leaving you as you sink down onto the soft cushions, a sense of comfort and relaxation appearing to wash over you.

While engrossed in your conversation, the pads of your fingers patter down the expanse of your neck, where they land just below your collar, ending up playing with the strap of your bra.

You tug and readjust the thin piece of material, your eyes unfocused as they stare at the far wall in front of you, blinking slowly while your mouth takes its sweet time to form the words as they come out, the way your lips shape around the unintelligible sounds rendering Dean utterly hypnotized.

There’s something wicked about this.

The fact that he can see you so clearly from the outside of your home, the place where you feel safe, the space where you can allow yourself to be your utmost true, surrounded only by the privacy of your walls.

The reality that he has pierced that barrier and infiltrated a moment that would otherwise be shared with nobody but you.

The position that you are in, so exposed without even knowing, so much of your smooth skin, bare only for his eyes in the quiet of the night.

The way a pleasant tingle spreads between his legs, blood rushing south, filling his cock inside his pants.

There’s something sinister about it, but Dean can’t will himself to care. Quite the opposite, he almost likes it.

His pupils dilate when you switch the phone to your other ear so that your right hand is free and you stretch it behind your back, your arm contorted in a tugging and twisting gesture till finally something snaps open, literally.

The hook of your bra comes undone and you pull the right strap, the same one you were playing with only mere moments ago, off your shoulder and then repeat the process on the other side.

There’s a second of anticipation, a breath that Dean holds in while he leans forward in the car seat as much as humanly possible so that he won’t miss what’s unfolding before him, and then you remove the cups that laid atop your breasts, uncovering the pert nipples that grow into peaks when subjected to the chill air of the evening.

“Holy shit.” His tongue instinctively pokes out to wet his parched lips, since he seems to have forgotten how to breathe through his nose, taking big gulps of air, mouth agape.

You throw the item of clothing aside unceremoniously, not caring where it lands, a noise so full of content escaping you that it reaches him all the way across the street. You rub at the indents the underwire left where it had been held tightly, your hand massaging the skin around your tits, cupping them from the side, and then letting go, the mounds jiggling freely in the most enticing of motions.

He didn’t think he would get to see you like this one day. Maybe never. He wished for it, longed for it, but he couldn't honestlyenvision it happening. He didn’t think he deserved it. He has daydreamed about it, sure, but not once in this scenario, not with him so far away where he can’t touch you, where he can only look.

The light coming from the lamp in the ceiling shone down on you, highlighting the dips and curves of your physique as you sat on your sofa. Like something out of a fantasy book, you cross and uncross your legs, perched on the pliant pad like a mythical creature, dressed only in your underpants. Like a dream.

The person you were talking to must make some sort of funny remark then, due to the way you proceed to throw your head back in laughter and twirl a finger in your hair, Dean’s eyes following the action frame by frame, entranced in the show. To gaze upon you naked like this is arousing in a whole new way.

It’s uncharted territory.

It’s different from porn.

It’s intimate and real.

Because he knows you. He’s seen you in your casual, everyday clothes, and in your stuffy work attire as well. But to be able to spy on what’s underneath.

To get a glimpse of the lovely, overly polite girl from the dog park; the shrewd, excessively serious therapist that leans back in her armchair and analyzes his every move, his every word.

To see you stripped down to your plain cotton panties and nothing more. There’s a vulnerability to it.

He’s forced to palm his dick through the tough material of his jeans when it stiffens and twitches inside his boxers.

Your hand leaves your hair and falls to your mouth, both index and middle fingers kneading the plump flesh of your lips, countenance lost in thought even as you nod and hum to the individual who called you. The same hand travels to your chest, just above the mass of your breasts, where you draw featherlight circles with the tips of your nails.

You seem to really enjoy the sensation, eyelids dropping till they’re closed, slumping down on the furniture that supports you.

Even as you relax in your seat, your fingers don’t quit their journey downwards, anchoring themselves on a particular patch of skin on the side of your boob. A saucy smile breaks from you, teeth showing while your eyes remain shut and you say something Dean can’t make out.

He has never once seen that look on your face, an impish, mischievous air that he wouldn't have expected from you.

Your arm moves just slightly and you grab your nipple, caressing the tumid, puffy bud with gentle, barely-there touches that become bold and confident once you hear something from the other end that encourages you, that shameless smirk widening on your lips.

Dean feels his entire body tense up, from the ends of his hair to the toes of his feet. A sudden jolt of adrenaline causes his heart to race as he watches in disbelief and confusion. And it takes a while, a little too long, for him to begin processing what is happening.

You are fondling your breast, teasing the tip, letting out a small gasp when a wave of ecstasy clearly hits you and your eyes snap open. You can hardly contain your enthusiastic laugh at whatever your mystery caller tells you and then you move to pinch and tug at your neglected nipple, wiggling on the couch, biting on your bottom lip.

You’re… Giddy. Acting naughty and unabashed, toying with yourself while on the phone with someone.

‘Cause you’re definitely not talking to your sister.

But then who? Who’s the motherfucker you give your time to? Your attention? Your carefree attitude? Your sexed-up, wild side?

Because you’d barely even muster a fucking genuine smile to Dean the last few times you saw him, and for a while, he tried to convince himself that you were not disinterested in him, you simply weren’t interested in anybody.

Well, that’s obviously not the case.

You don’t want him, specifically.

But you do want some other guy. Some other idiot who could never understand you the way Dean does. Never comprehend what it feels like to lose your family, to lose a brother. They could never share that bond with you.

Whoever that asshole is to you, Dean can be more. He’s sure of it.

But they’re the one you’re sighing wantonly for. Breathing accelerating as you let go of your left tit and run your hand down your stomach, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. Your legs part to give way to your obscene exploration and you rub at your center, fingers carefully contouring the outline of your pussy over the cloth of your panties.

A head-spinning mixture of anger and excitement hits Dean so strongly it gives him whiplash. He has to blink a couple of times to try and wear off his shock, vision shifting from blurry and then to clear again as he fights off this dazed feeling that attempts to consume him.

He just couldn't believe it.

You are pawing at your clit, patting the sensitive button, drawing tight circles through the material of your underwear till a wet spot darkened the shade of the fabric. A puff of hot air leaves your parted lips at the sensations you’re bringing out of yourself.The corners of your mouth rise as you whisper some dirty secret into the receiver.

You are so lewd and indecent, without any inhibitions. All for someone else.

And for how long? Did you know them for a considerable amount of time or were they a random hookup, the type you can flirt and have phone sex with but no emotional connection to?

Either way, you must like them. You must find them alluring and attractive. Probably way more than you found Dean to be since you never so much as gave him a once-over.

Were they good-looking?

Were they interesting or charming?

Were they worthy of you?

No. Of course not.

How could they possibly be worthy of you? How could they possibly deserve your impatient, feverish expression or the broken sob that erupts from your throat as you continue to stroke your pleasure point side to side?

How could they have earned the bucking of your hips when you can’t take the feeling of your damp panties clinging to your throbbing core any longer and your hand makes a move to the hem of your underwear, with the intention of touching under the fabric?

He can’t conceive of it. He can’t wrap his head around this being fair. You can’t choose them over him. You just can’t.

Dean reaches for the cell phone in his pocket with trembling fingers, mind fuzzy with too many emotions that he isn’t able to put in order. Jealousy and envy swirling into an interchangeable spiral. Lust and frustration biting each other’s tails. Disappointment and hope swaying to an eerie ballad as his thumb shakes while it presses your name and then the call button.

He takes note of the moment your device starts ringing, the way you react by pulling your arm away from between your legs, frowning at the unknown number flashing across your screen, and interrupting your ongoing connection.

You exhale deeply only to take a calming breath in, looking irritated, saying something of little importance to the bastard you were conversing with, and then suddenly the tone by Dean’s ear stops, there’s a soft click when you pick up, and the Winchester is overwhelmed by the sound of your voice as it envelops him after what felt like forever.

“Hello?” You greet, putting a hair strand behind your ear.

There’s a pause when all of Dean’s blood rushes to his brain, causing an intense dizziness, and he has to contain the need to gasp audibly for air.

He didn’t think this through.

He didn’t think at all.

He just acted.

The idea of losing you bringing a suffocating pang of despair, a feeling that proved itself to be entirely too great to withstand, and Dean just… Moved, without taking the time to consider the consequences of his actions.

But he had to do something. He couldn't just stand idly by while you were being taken from him. Not that you were ever his, to begin with, but he can still change that. You just need to give him a chance. Which seems unlikely to happen now that he has called your number, the one he isn’t supposed to have.

“Eh…” He doesn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t have a game plan or a strategy on how to conduct himself. He hadn’t mapped out how this exchange would go in his head, as he typically does. He hadn’t devised a way to take control of the situation.

“Hey, Y/N.” Was all he could come up with.

You appear to be unsettled for a moment, blinking a few times while you search for a name amongst your friends and family that would match the deep, gruff timbre that addressed you and then you ask.

“Who’s this?” You don’t recognize his voice, and it stings to know that you think of him so little, when he thinks of you sooften.

“It’s, uh- Dean.” Should he disclose his last name, as well?

You knit your brows, and he has to convince himself that is not disapproval nor displeasure that he sees flickering across your face.

“Oh, hi, Dean. How are you?” You fix yourself in your seat, choosing to recline your head on the back of the sofa, elongating your neck, and bending your spine. Your chest sticks out as a result, the artificial light coming from above reflecting on the dewy skin of your exposed breasts, and Dean is rendered speechless for a split second.

“I’m alright. How are you?” He manages to respond.

“Fine.” Your eyes roam the space of your living room in confusion, as if him calling you was the strangest of developments. “Hmm, how can I help you?” That’s a great question. You can stop having phone sex with other people, for starters.

“Y-you know, it’s been a while since we had our last session and I just thought that it might be good to have a chat like, before, just to catch up on everything.” It’s his reply.

He can hear the way he sounds, voice faltering, words coming out rushed. It fills the inside of the car and bounces against the walls before entering his ears, the uncertainty so raw that he cringes at what you, a psychologist, might be able to read between the lines.

“Okay…” You stretch out the last syllable, absolutely not buying what he was selling. “But we only had to reschedule one of your appointments, right?” It sure felt like longer than that.

“Yeah, just the one.” He runs a rough hand down his cheek, rubbing at his mouth in a soothing gesture, his palm meeting the prickly stubble lining his jaw in the process. “I think it’s because it’s been a while since we talked without it being in that setting, and I thought we could have a more relaxed conversation, like the ones we had before.”

“I see.” Your features wilt, expression taking on an exasperated look and you turn your head towards the opposite side of the window, hindering Dean’s view of you, but he could swear he caught a slight row of your eyes. “Dean, I was under the impression that we had already discussed this, and why it’s simply not… Viable.”

“I know.” He said it way too loud, having to make an effort to bring the volume of his next sentences down. “And I get it, I’m a patient and that’s all that I can be, but I just wish that we-” You raise your fingers to eye level, checking your nails for imperfections, not particularly displaying much enthusiasm in your demeanor. He puffs out a breath through his nose, completely out of his element. “That we could go back to being friends.”

“I understand.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “But I need to be perfectly clear with you. Once I became your therapist, there was no ‘going back’. Even if we stopped having our sessions, we still couldn't regain the relationship we had before. You’ve shared deep, extremely personal information about yourself with me, and I have analyzed you as a psychologist. There’s no possibility of me ever not seeing you as a patient.”

Dean takes in everything you say, each statement feeling like a stab in the chest. The little world he had built inside his head, for you and him only, crumbles to the ground as if it was made of sand. Disillusion wraps around his throat and he grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white.

“Well, fuck.” You make a displeased sound at the curse word he blurts out, almost making it seem like you weren’t sitting on your couch only in your underpants, but he’s quick to rectify anyway. “I’m sorry. There’s probably no good reason for me to ask what you’re doing Saturday night, then?” He chuckles, making a poor attempt at a joke.

Why did he say that? He knew what your response would be. He isn’t some utterly delusional, socially oblivious, lovesick teenager. At least, he never was before. He used to be the complete opposite. A confident, self-assured lady-killer that wouldn’t be caught dead pining over a clearly uninterested woman.

And now look at him.

Why must he humiliate himself like this? When did he turn into that kind of guy? No wonder you find him pathetic.

“No.” You answered, curtly, and even though you’re unaware that he can see you, you shake your head side to side, only to reinforce the refusal. “I mean, you can ask, but I’m just going to give you a deflective answer.”

A toe-curling embarrassment hangs in the air around the two of you, resembling a strong, overly sweet perfume that refuses to dissipate, and all Dean can think to do is retreat, go home to lick his wounds from this lost battle.

Why did you need to be so difficult?

“Whelp, guess I finally got the message. Loud and clear.” A deafening silence extends itself and he clears his throat, the awkwardness building with it. “See you in a couple days in your office, Y/N.”

“Sure.” You agree, and he’s about to hang up before you stop him. “Wait, Dean-”

“Yes?” There’s so much in that one question. It’s just three small letters, but they mean a lot more.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Did you change your mind?’

‘One word from you, and I’m yours.’

“How did you get this number?” Is what actually comes out of your mouth and Dean deflates, face scrunching up as he murmurs a quiet ‘shit’. Of fucking course that’s what you would say.

“You gave it to me.” He offers, clean and simple. In his opinion, it’s always best to deliver a short, detail-free lie that can be molded and shaped into whatever fits his narrative.

“I…” You think long and hard for a bit, bringing your right knee up, resting your arm on it. “I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. How else would I have it?” He tightens his lips, praying to God that you’ll fall for that.

“Um…” You pause, considering what would be the alternative. If he managed to get a hold of your contact without it coming from you, that would mean that he’s some sort of creep, psycho stalker, and surely, you wouldn't make that low of a judgment about him. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I did, then. It’s just that this is my personal number, so if you ever feel the need to reach me again, I would appreciate it if you did it through the business one.”

Ouch. You weren’t pulling any punches today, were you?

“Of course.” Dean agrees through gritted teeth, his ego more bruised than his face after a whole round with the Devil. “My mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You crack your knuckles in the same way he often does and the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. You were made for him. You just don’t know it yet, and he can’t be mad at you for that. “Have a good night, Dean.” You wish, at last.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” It’s the last thing he says before you hang up and the line disconnects.

He stays for a while longer, resting the back of his head in the driver’s seat, fingers anxiously tapping on the dashboard while he waits to see if you’ll call that son of a bitch again. But you only fidget with your phone for a minute or two before you put it down, coaxing a sigh of relief out of Dean’s lungs.

You get up from the couch and make a beeline for your bedroom then, taking time to lightly scratch at your scalp with the ends of your nails in circular motions, finding the sensation relaxing if your hum of delight was anything to go by.

You stop in front of your closet, opening it to fetch a towel from inside. Once you have it in your grasp, you leave your bedroom and walk the short path to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, the wooden barrier blocking Dean’s field of vision.

Dean can’t hear the shower running, but he can see the vapor escaping from under the entrance and decides it’s time to go. He turns the key and the engine sparks to life, the drive to his house in the picture-perfect suburbs filled solely with thoughts of you. He fixates on whether or not you’re accepting of hot showers only, since he can’t stand them. Maybe the two of you could find a happy medium whenever you choose to shower together.

With that image in mind, he can’t fight the smile that creeps on his lips as he parks and exits the minivan after reaching his destination, the first thing he hears upon crossing the entryway being Thor’s excited barks and the familiar sound of his paws on the foyer’s floor when he runs to welcome Dean back home.

“Hey, buddy.” The Winchester kneels down to pat the German Sheppard’s soft coat, allowing a few affectionate licks from the dog to land on the side of his face before getting up again.

“You’re here.” Lisa’s voice announces as she enters the space, eyeing Dean up and down, inspecting him for something that she doesn’t seem to find. “I didn’t know if you were coming home.” He scoffs at her choice of words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It’s a challenge. He wants her to say what she’s really thinking. He wants her to yell at him, hit him if that’s what she wants to do.

“Ben was asking for you at dinner.” She averts her gaze, a looming melancholy painted on her pretty brown eyes and Dean’s vexation dwindles.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Playing video games in his room.” She still doesn’t look at him, preferring to find a nondescript spot on the wall to the right of them to focus on.

“I’ll talk to him before it’s time to go to bed.” He tells her, earning a soft ‘hmm’ in response. He waits to make sure the conversation has come to an end, and she folds her arms, hugging her own waist and remaining quiet.

With nothing left to say, he leaves her where she stands, slow-moving feet taking him to the garage. He closes and locks the door behind him, staring for too long at the outline of the Impala that rests in the room, cloaked by a large tarp.

There are wall-mounted shelves littered with all types of tools and forgotten items, and hidden behind all the paraphernalia, he uncovers the box he came looking for.

He plucks it from its secret place and cradles it in his hands, as if it contained a precious treasure. He then sits in the old recliner they put out of service and moved into the garage a few months back, laying the box on his lap and getting comfortable against the upholstered leather.

He lifts the lid of the box, finding his prized collection in the same way he left it. The dainty necklace with a shiny pendant hanging from its chain. The body lotion that emanated a refreshing and pure smell. A pair of your panties, the off-white lacy one that made his head spin. Those were the souvenirs he took from your apartment and now keeps with him.

Prior to tonight, he had only stared at them in fear and wonder. He feared his actions, how far he was willing to go just to maintain even some small pieces of you close to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admire the objects with an awe-inspired twinkle in his eyes.

His right hand moved towards your underwear, fingers lightly brushing the delicate cloth, learning how it feels to the touch. The tactile sensation of rubbing the pads of his fingers against the crotch panel of the garment caused Dean’s skin to prickle with an unnerving heat.

You had been wearing plain cotton panties that night, and yet they looked so appealing as they clutched you by your hips and hugged your ass. Dean brought the piece of clothing he was holding closer, inspecting it carefully, raking over the tiny intricacies with his fingertips.

He imagined you in front of him, dressed only in this flimsy little thing. Would you wear lace for him the first time you let him fuck you? Would the material cling to your pussy lips when he got you wet like you were tonight?

No, he could get you wetter. He could ruin you.

He found himself taking the bottle of lotion and setting the box to the side of him, ragged breaths echoing in the quiet of the room. There’s a fire spreading through his lower abdomen, a burst of need he hasn’t felt this intensely in a long while.

His penis twitches in his pants, begging for attention and Dean gropes it with the hand that is still holding your underwear, just grazing it instead of giving it the friction it demands.

He shuts his eyes, and behind his closed eyelids, he envisions you so clearly. Knelt down between his legs, your smaller, soft hand being the one to scrape the surface of the bulge inside his jeans, teasing him mercilessly.

“Look at how dirty you are.” You’d say, an amused smile plastered on your lips. “Dick half-hard and growing while you finger my stolen panties.”

Dean wouldn't dare touch you, lest you disappear before him like a mirage, so he’d busy his hand by bringing the fine lacy fabric he had been caressing to his face, putting it against his nose and, inhaling deeply. Nothing other than a faint smell of laundry detergent fills his senses, but in his mind’s eye, it’s the sweet scent of your dripping cunt that permeates the space around him and makes his mouth water.

“Want you so bad.” He’d pant, whiny and desperate.

“I know.” Your tone would be so condescending, grinning a cruel grin whilst you’d line the span of his member with the edge of your nails and blow a puff of hot air on it, letting your pouty lips ghost over the swelling organ. “You’re such a pervert.”

You’d look up at him with a lascivious glint darkening the color of your irises, weightless fingers working to undo the zipper of his pants before your hand would delve inside his boxers and takes hold of his pulsating length.

Dean would bite into the cloth of your underwear in a laughable attempt to hold in the hopeless moan that you’d coax out of him as you’d pull out his manhood, now fully erect and needy.

“Your cock is so pretty.” You’d utter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. A fascinated look on your face as you’d stare at it from base to glans, eyes glazing over. “I love how flushed you’re at the tip.”

You’d use your thumb to press at the opening of the urethra as your other fingers wrapped around the mushroom head, and Dean would buck his hips and whimper when you’d smear the precum that had gathered there.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re weeping.” You’d coo and suckle at your thumb, eagerly lapping at the taste, releasing the digit with a pop once it was stripped clean of his essence.

Dean’s eyes would widen at how depraved you could be, how absolutely filthy and debauched you were just for him, and his heart would swell with pride and his brain would swim in endorphins.

“Do you want me to suck it? Put it in the back of my throat?” You’d ask without any intention of gaining a response from him, half of your words coming out muffled since you’d try to speak with your mouth full, alternating your attention between laving your tongue on the tender intersection where Dean’s foreskin would be if he hadn’t been circumcised, and stubbornly seeking to close your lips around the middle of his shaft, head leaned horizontally as you’d litter him with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“I- I can’t.” He’d cry out, the sodden material of your lace underpants becoming saturated in his saliva, falling through his teeth, and landing on the floor when he couldn’t keep his shameful sobs in any longer. “I need you to come here.”

“I am here, silly.” You’d giggle with no real humor and, like the vixen you are, you’d place both your hands on each of his knees and prop yourself up just enough that the divine softness of your tits would rub up against his member, taut nipples grazing the sensitive flesh and causing Dean to grunt, on the verge of overstimulation.

You would've barely touched him, and he would have been reduced to a puddle in your grasp, every nerve ending in his body feeling raw and overexposed.

“No, come up here. Sit on my face.” He’d beg and you would laugh at the broken state of his voice, but still oblige him.

You’d stand up slowly, your bare tits shaking tantalizingly with the movement and catching his eyes, the way your cunny would still be hidden by the same pair of tight, plain panties driving Dean mad.

You’d move closer then, placing one of your knees on each of his thighs and climbing over him with the help of his arms as they moved to grab a handful of your ass cheeks, the soft mewl that you’d try to keep in stealing his breath away.

“This is what you wanted?” Your timbre would be pure venom once both your legs straddled his shoulders and you held on to the shelves on the wall for support, you’re clothed pussy hovering mere inches from his mouth. “This is what you dreamed of, you freak?”

“Yes.” He’d confess and try to force you to sit down properly by pulling at your flanks, but you’d swat his hands away with a condemning ‘tsk’ and he’d crane his neck up, tongue sticking out to get a taste of the cloth that concealed your lower lips but only being capable of brushing against it with the tip of the muscle. “Please.”

“Oh, my goodness, you’re such a brat.” You’d mock his restlessness, holding firmly onto the wooden shelves as a way to prevent him from making further contact with your center. “All whiny and needy for me.”

Dean would moan in ecstasy when you’d gradually lower your hips by a tiny fraction, allowing him to moisten the fabric of your underwear with kitten licks, giving out a lament as he failed to fully wrap his lips on the sweet spot between your legs.i

He would pinch at the skin of your inner thighs, using his big hands to knead the flesh around your vulva, wordlessly imploring you to give him what he craved.

“Drop your weight on my face.” His voice would come out all raspy with yearning, and yet he wouldn’t care. “Please, Y/N.”

As if you were a goddess tired of the constant prayers and supplications that he laid at your altar, you’d take pity on his poor soul and finally sink yourself down completely against him.

The heat of his mouth would immediately envelop your middle as a sob escaped from deep in his chest, and he would start to suck on your clit through the cotton of your panties like a man possessed.

“What a crybaby.” You’d snicker and his ears would heat up in embarrassment, but he would ignore it in favor of nipping at the fabric that would stick to your pussy due to the mixture of your wetness and his spit.

Dean would gorge himself on you like a starving animal, feasting on your addicting flavor as your slick juices overflowed from you. The sloppy suction noises would reverberate in the room, a continuous frantic slurping that went over the line of pornographic and bordered on offensive.

Even through your taunting, he would hear the soft sounds of pleasure that you would try to control. Your whimpering when his tongue would hit your bundle of nerves just right, and your wailing when he would rake the blunt ends of his teeth over the swollen bud.

“Always wanted to do this.” He’d mumble in between the persistent licks of his tongue on you and his dick would throb as a result of its neglect.

With one hand planted securely on the fat of your right thigh, Dean would let the other move to his deprived manhood, taking hold of it from the base and working his way to the leaking head.

At first contact, The Winchester would feel a shock pass through him, a literal electric pulse that would overtake him with a sensation so strong that he’d be forced to cease his ministrations, the skin of his shaft too sensitive with how hard he had been for so long.

“Can’t even jerk yourself off right, can you?” You’d jeer at him, pressing your gushing cunt to his face, grinding back and forth against his open mouth, and rubbing your stiff clit on his nose, cutting off his air. “Should I get over there so I can spit on that dick, make it really wet?” You wouldn't allow him to answer, using a hand to tug on the short hairs in the back of his head just to hear him moan, the vibrations landing directly on your soaked underwear. “Do you think that would even help or you’re just being an attention whore?”

Your cutting words would only serve to make his member grow even harder, pointing straight at the ceiling, length heavy with rushing blood and balls full of cum, spasming with pent-up readiness, standing perfectly vertical and sullying the shirt that covered the skin below his belly button.

He didn’t even know he could feel pleasure this deep, this piercing, so overwhelming that it blended into pain. And he certainly didn’t know that he would like it, that he would enjoy the overstimulation as much as he did the humiliation. Your scornful remarks causing a fire to spread under his collar, your insolence riling him up to a point where all he could think about was taking whatever you so generously gave him.

Yes, he was a dirty pervert and a freak for you, now would you please shut up and cream on his tongue so that he could form a single coherent thought?

Furthermore, the idea of losing the feeling of your sitting on his face — with the ripe smell of your arousal filling his nostrils at every labored inhale, and the heady taste of your wetness that runs down his jaw —, is so unappealing to Dean that his nails would clamp down on the flesh of your thigh where he held it, so that you couldn't move away.

“Please, let me-” He’d mutter and bob his head up and down on your pussy, the grip you had on his hair tightening and eliciting a groan from him at the sting.

He’d take the forgotten bottle of body lotion, using his thumbnail to pry the lid open. Without being able to see what he was doing, he’d blindly coat a considerable amount of the balmy substance on the leaking head of his dick, the cream mixing with his pre as he gently massaged it down the shaft.

With the moisturizer lubing him up, the rough friction of his calloused hand on the delicate tissue of his massive hard-on would be pleasantly reduced, and an animalistic whine would get caught in his throat from the relief that came with stroking his needy length properly, the rumble of it reaching your center and making more of your molten honey to ooze out of you.

“You’re fucking delicious.” He’d tell you, delirious from the unmatched satisfaction of savoring you ceaselessly, watching you undulate your hips when he sucked you just right while he milked the meat of his penis.

“Yeah? You like it that bad? Eating me out just like this?” You’d ask, all breathy and hoarse, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out to wet your dry lips. “You’re are so sick, fisting your cock while your therapist sits on your face.”

Your filthy mouth would spur him on, the flicks of his wrist getting faster and erratic, the obscene wet noises becoming louder as he drank from you, the clean scent of your lotion pervading the air.

“Uggh!” He’d grunt, suckling on your clit in a wild frenzy, hand flapping up and down the shaft of his quivering dick, the two of you tangled in a mess of limbs and fluids, and it still wouldn't seem to be enough.

He’d want more, he’d want all of you. He’d want to mark you in love bites and paint you with his seed. On your pretty face, on your soft tits, on your lovely cunny.

God, he wanted to cum inside you, stuff you so full of him that you’d forget your own name. He’s sure you’d be tight, but he’d stretch you out, mold you to the shape of him. Plant his sticky essence so deep into you that you could never rinse it off, never rid yourself of him.

He would hear you cry out when you reached your peak, euphoria weighing down your bones and turning your brain to mush. That elastic band of tension would finally snap, and Dean would groan as the first ropes of his release would spurt out of him, landing on his lower abdomen and soiling his clothes. He wouldn't stop pumping the span of his cock, nor would he stop lapping at the dripping fabric of your covered pussy, extending your orgasms till the muscles of your calves began to shake.

Once he was thoroughly spent, he opens his eyes to find no trace of your presence. Only the ticklish sensation of the lace adorning your off-white underpants that he’d been pressing to his face, and the light, enchanting notes of your body lotion that he had used as lube.

It had all felt so real that he takes a while to find his bearings, lungs burning as he gasps for air, never once having experienced this intensity of rapture.

He feels damp with sweat, mingled with the smell of sex, and his hands tremble as they rearrange everything back where it belongs. The leather recliner chair, the now wrinkled clothes he wore, and the priceless box of mementos he kept of you.

After all of it is put back in its proper place, he attempts to fix his disheveled hair before unlocking the door of the garage and tiptoeing around the house.

The wooden floors creak under his feet as he walks to the bathroom, passing through the ajar door of Ben’s bedroom and catching the boy fast asleep in his bed. He hears the clinking of glass coming from the living room and he can assume Lisa is downing her daily bottle of wine.

He goes to bed after taking a relaxing shower, the once tense muscles of his back appearing to be loose and reinvigorated. The soft mattress sinks below his weight, even though his body feels like a flowing feather, and by the time he drifts off to sleep, he dreams only of you.

The next morning, he wakes up early, silently getting ready so as not to disturb the sleep of the brunette who occupies her side of the bed. His breakfast is quick, serving as fuel for the busy day ahead, and the drive to work proves to be uneventful.

It’s tedious labor to go about his business on the construction site, with time seeming to stand still as his mind wanders to more exciting places. A vampire’s nest in Manning, Colorado. A zombie case in Greenville, Illinois. Under your sheets, in your warm embrace.

What a shame wishful thinking doesn’t get him anywhere, though. He will never hunt again, the thrill of the job forever lost, traded by the adrenaline rush of endless sawing and drilling. And as far as spending his time anywhere near the strong pull of your magnetic field goes, Dean refuses to give up. He won’t quit that calling.

“Hey, George, can I talk to you for a sec?” As soon as his watch marks 4 p.m., he marches up to his supervisor and asks the question.

“Sure, what’s up?” The balding man looks up at Dean from his clipboard, ceasing his scribbly writing to give him his full attention.

“I’m gonna need to leave a little early, if that’s okay.” In all honesty, Dean would probably go even if it wasn’t okay. He can always get another gig, but what he had to do today couldn't wait.

“Again? It’s the second time this week alone.” George informed him, putting his pen behind his ear with a furrowed brow.

“I know, but Lisa’s mom has been sick and she’s taking care of her, so sometimes I need to pick Ben up from school.” Dean’s face didn’t twitch by a single millimeter, his gaze never wavering as the lies poured easily from him. “You understand, right?”

George flattened his lips in thought, considering the Winchester’s words. 

“Okay, but you owe me.” He said eventually, waggling his index finger at his work colleague.

“You got it.” Dean agreed, smiling contently as he removed his safety gear, patting the foreman on the shoulder before making his exit.

He had the route of your apartment committed to memory, parking in that same spot across your street feeling like the most natural thing to do. Only this time, he had no intention of seeing you perform your daily, mundane tasks, having arrived earlier in the afternoon so that you’d still be in your office.

Your place would be free for him to explore, perhaps succeeding in his search for an object that might be linking the ghost to your home. Once he got that, it was a simple salt and burn and it would be done, you’d be safe. This would mean that, technically, you’d have no need for Dean’s protection, for his watchful eye, or his proximity. He could conclude his therapy sessions with you and go back to his life as if you had never crossed his path.

Everything would be the same as it was before, and Dean could busy himself with dog walks where he’d meet no beautiful women, Ben’s little league softball games, silently having dinner with Lisa, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum.

Yeah, no. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t going to do that. He was not about to shield himself from your light or deprive himself of your incandescent glow. He was like a moth to a flame, and he had no intention of forsaking your heat. He wasn’t that much of a masochist.

With that issue settled in his mind, he turns off his car’s engine, ready to let himself into your space so that he could rid you from not only this danger, but any others that might present themselves in the future, ‘cause he wasn’t going anywhere. Except that before he can leave his vehicle, he catches a glimpse of a shadow moving inside your apartment.

He squints, trying to get a better look at the figure. As it approaches your living room window, the image of a man becomes clear to Dean’s eyes. He had an average build, not particularly tall. Wavy dark brown hair and clear pale skin, apparently also smoker’s breath from the lit cigarette he was holding.

“The fuck?” Dean curses, whispering to himself, utterly confused by who that man was and what he was doing in your place while you were not there. Did you have a stalker or something?

The guy moves around calmly, taking a puff of nicotine from time to time, checking out the portraits on your wall and the family pictures scattered here and there. He puts out his cigarette when he’s done, preferring to throw it out the window than in a bin, which Dean deduces to be because he doesn’t want you to know he smokes. He then pops a mint into his mouth, as if on cue.

He walks to your bedroom, seeing a lonely stuffed animal on top of your dresser and smiling at it, probably finding the fact that you have it as cute as the Winchester does. He opens your underwear drawer and Dean wants to kill him, gaze at the fear in his eyes before they go dark.

How dare he defile your privacy in this manner? Crudely going through your intimate possessions as if he was inspecting an exhibit in a museum. He shouldn't be allowed to set foot in the room where you lay your head at night, where you are at your most vulnerable. The more time passes with Dean evaluating the situation, the more he wants to go in there and permanently remove that piece of shit from your area.

The man lets out a low whistle when he plucks an especially tiny pair of your panties from the drawer, but before he could do anything more, his phone begins to ring.

“Hi, Y/N.” Dean can read his lips when he picks up, clear as day.

He lets go of the garment, putting it back where he found it and closing the drawer, a stupid smile on his lips as he starts to talk to you, but Dean doesn’t pay attention any longer, completely tuning out after that.

His world seemed to collapse around him. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, engulfing his heart in a hurricane of seething emotions.

So he was the ‘them’ you were masturbating to last night.

Was he your boyfriend? Fiancé? Dean knew you weren’t married and nothing that remotely inferred that you were in a romantic relationship ever came up. Not during his extensive research on you or when he was the one scouring your apartment. Definitely not during the talks the two of you shared.

Or maybe you simply didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t feel the need to. After all, he was nothing but a patient to you. You certainly had no intention of disclosing personal details of your life, let alone invite him to be a part of it.

The guy talks to you for at least twenty minutes, settling at the edge of your bed. He’s all goofy grins and heart eyes, nervously running his hands through his hair every five seconds, as if he was chatting with his high school crush.

Seriously, this is your type? A wimpy little boy that can’t even handle holding a conversation with you? Has he ever even fucked you properly, or did he just whisper some lines he took off the internet in your ear, and had you take care of yourself?

The mere thought of you, the one he yearns for so deeply, involved with that mouth breather sends waves of uncontrollable rage surging through Dean’s body.

No, this can’t be right. You can’t be wasting your time with someone like this. You could do so much better. He will prove it to you.

Eventually, Fuckface says his goodbye and hangs up, pocketing his cell and getting up from your bed. He straightens the coverings and goes to the kitchen, opening your fridge and taking his sweet time examining the items within.

Dean’s eyes drift out of focus, vaguely aware of what was taking place inside your apartment through his peripheral vision, his brain getting caught in a ruminating spiral.

His head becomes a cauldron of uncontrollable dark thoughts, envisioning what he would have to do to set this right. A chilling torrent of murderous jealousy consumed him, coursing through his veins, demanding satisfaction with a dangerous force.

How could you do this to him? Surely you knew you’re the object of his affections by now, he had made that clear to a point where it was just ridiculous, so why let him burn in fury from the agony of betrayal?

Was this what you wanted, to push him perilously close to the edge?

Maybe it was.

Maybe that was exactly what you intended.

Maybe you were just playing a game of cat and mouse, filling his days with your wonderful, radiating aura and then tugging the rug from under him. Removing your sweet smiles, and your dazzling eyes, and your addictive perfume.

Was this your idea of foreplay?

Fuckface decides on sparkling water — of course he does —, retrieving it from the refrigerator and then moving to explore the contents of the cabinets, searching for a glass.

You need this parasite out of your life. Maybe Dean should exterminate it for you.

He’s so lost in that cyclical headspace that he doesn’t see what was happening at first, the sudden appearance of a flashing shape, the sound of glass shattering and a guttural scream snapping him back to reality.

“Help!” The man begs, voice crackling from sheer terror, a grey-skinned specter rushing at him.

Dean doesn’t even blink, instincts kicking in as he spurs into action, grabbing his salt-loaded shotgun and concealing it in his waistband the best way he can. He leaves his car, sprinting across the street and entering your building, running up the stairs to your floor, climbing two steps at a time.

He bursts through your front door, and he would've for sure broken it off its hinges if it hadn’t been unlocked. He walks forward into your living room, the open-concept layout of your kitchen permitting him to see the gruesome scene as it unfolds.

The ghost of Judith McCook, rotting corpse completely naked, long auburn hair caked to her face with endless dripping water, skin unnaturally grey. She hunches over the guy, snarling like a rabid dog and holding him by his neck with superhuman strength.

Water rushes out the kitchen sink faucet, overflowing it entirely, Judith’s death grip keeping his head submerged. He yells, gurgling under the water, thrashing and flailing helplessly. He pushes against the sides of the sink, arms straining as he attempts to get back up with all of his might.

Dean pulls out his shotgun, aiming at the spirit, salt-loaded cartridges at the ready. He has her in his sights, less than five feet of distance between them. One shot and she would dissipate harmlessly for a short time, enough for the man’s life to be spared.

But… He hesitates.

As he stands there, witnessing the life being drained from a man, a moment of bitter truth pierces through the air. The gravity of the situation was palpable, as fate had placed him at a crossroads. His whole existence had been defined by taking down monsters, saving people, but now conflicting emotions churned within him, tearing at his conscience.

The choice before him was agonizingly clear. Prevent the killing of the one who stood in the way of his own happiness, or let him perish and secure his own desires.

In that fleeting moment, he makes his decision.

The allure of you, of his need to have you all to himself, overwhelms any flicker of empathy or compassion that may have remained and Dean lowers his weapon. He doesn’t look away or closes his eyes, not even flinches, a cruel and calculated resolve settled upon him as he just watches.

The guy’s struggle continued for what felt like forever, desperation rooted deep in his bones while his limbs flapped about, moving erratically. With a cold detachment, Dean waited, till eventually it was over. The moment the man died, body standing still, the ghost vanished, flickering lights accompanying her exit.

The weight of Dean’s ruling, having acted as judge and jury, descends heavily on his soul, forever altering his perception of himself and the darkness he didn’t know resided within.

There are no long sighs or second guesses, he just puts his gun back in his waistband, face unreadable as he gets to work. He rolls up his sleeves, careful not to let the water get on his clothes when he moves to turn off the faucet, pushing the limp body to the floor with a thud.

Under the sink, he unscrews the shutoff valve, allowing a steady stream of water to flow from it. Hopefully, when you come home, which should be soon, you’ll conclude that the soaked floors were due to a plumbing problem. Your apartment already has so many issues, according to you, what’s one more?

The sole of his boots crunch some of the broken glass beneath him, and he goes on to methodically clean it all up, flushing it down the toilet once he’s done.

Back in the kitchen, Dean stares at the cadaver with a tut. He’s lying on his back, lifeless eyes perpetually open and mouth agape.

“Dammit.” The Winchester murmurs to himself, mildly annoyed. It has been a long time since he last had to conceal a body and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Oh, well. I knew the minivan had to be good for something.”

In less than thirty minutes, he has the corpse in the back of his car and is driving away, thankful that you hadn’t arrived home yet. He crosses state lines, leaving Michigan in favor of disposing of the dead guy as far away from home as possible.

He imagines you’ll wonder about the man, maybe even miss him, but it’ll pass. Dean broke his phone and the SIM card, so soon you’ll come to believe that he simply ghosted you, which makes him chuckle at the irony.

Then, you’ll forget about his existence, free to occupy yourself with what really matters, which is building your relationship with Dean. Because that will happen, whether you like it or not.

It’s past seven at night when he comes home, digging graves not being as easy as he remembered. By the time he crosses the threshold of his house, Thor is at his feet, sniffing instead of barking happily, probably smelling death and dirt on him.

“Finally!” Lisa’s steps are hard and so is her voice when she greets him at the foyer, holding a mysterious bag in her hands, rage taking over her expression.

“I know, you’re pissed about something I did or didn’t do, but can you cut me some slack? I had to work late today. I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean rubs the bridge of his nose as he says it, trying to move around her in the hallway to get to the bathroom, but she blocks his passage.

“I sent Ben to sleep at a friend’s house, we need to talk.” Her gaze doesn’t cower under his like it did last night, her grip tightening on the bag she’s holding.

“For the love of God, now, really? You wanna talk right now?” If there were a contest for world’s worst timing he’s sure she’dwin. All he wants to do at this moment is get in the shower and then drag himself to bed, he has to be rested for his appointment with you tomorrow, after all.

“Yes, I want to talk about the fact that you say you had to work late, but I ran into George at the supermarket an hour ago and he told me that he hopes my mom is feeling better?” She answers without skipping a beat, and Dean curses George and his blabber mouth under his breath. “Yeah, he said that you told him you had to leave work early ‘cause she’s been ill, which surprised me, since that’s the first I heard of it.”

“Okay, that sounds suspicious but I-” He begins to try to explain, not exactly sure where he was going with it.

“Suspicious? It sounds like you’ve been lying to my face, Dean.” She interrupts him, her eyes filling with tears, and Dean can’t pinpoint if it’s from anger or hurt, perhaps both. “You know what? I thought that you were going through a rough patch, that you were missing your brother, I even thought that you started hunting again.”

“Lisa-” He tries once more, but she raises her hand for him to stop.

“And to be honest, I would've understood if it was any of those things.” Her voice cracks and fat tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “But then I find this.”  She pulls a box out of the bag she’d been holding, and Dean takes a step forward in her direction when he realizes it’s the box.

“What the fuck is this?” She shouts.

End notes: Yeah, Dean, what the fuck is this?? Also, I do not know who might be interested to know this, but the thing that inspired this story the most was a song by Sleeping At Last called Two, I visualized the plot unfolding after hearing it for the first time, which was years ago. Anyway, the chapters are getting way longer and heavier and that makes them a lot harder to revise, so I was wondering if any of you would be so kind to offer your services as a beta to this fic, it would a great help. Just putting it out there.

[macfrog]

Hello I’m back for the ask game 💖👀

(I’m also a shy person, so this is my way of getting to know you….until I grow actual balls and do it for real👀👀👀)

Anyway : 5, 14, 25, 27

💖💖💖

shy people rule the world ‼️ i am gonna send you a dm first thing tomorrow mina, we are about to become besties.

5. what made you start your blog?

just putting my love of writing hand in hand with my love for joel miller, honestly. i used to have a writing blog years ago and it brought me so much joy, so i thought it’d be fun to play again.

14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

skydiving! omg so so SO badly. i know i would fucking love it — but i also know i would not be able to leave that plane. really grinds my gears! i’ll work myself up to it.

25. fave season and why?

god i can’t even tell you how much of an autumn kid i am. the trees are all rusted and everything is dark and gloomy. sweater season scarf season soup season. having someone cup my hands and breathe hot air over them. hot chocolate and blankets and reading in front of the fire. all i do is listen to rosyln in my car and weep. HALLOWEEN oh my god halloween. scary movies and flickering candles and motherfucking TWILIGHT i can hear the whoa whoa whoaaas over the horizon it’s COMING, PEOPLE

27. any nicknames?

i am always thoroughly impressed by how creative people get when deciding which nickname to christen me with. the two i hear/answer to the most are: my lovely mama calls me nel (HEY where have we heard that one!), and my best friend loves to just yell my surname at me like we’re in a college locker room.

[mochayoubi]

it's the start of a new week tomorrow, so i thought i'd try and get myself back in gear with my studies. here's my goals for the week:

finish all my anki reviews (!!)

finish inscryption <- i'm playing in japanese

read at least 5 pages of a japanese book

the reviews alone will be rough because looking right now, i got 877 of those bad boys, and the way anki works i know i'll have a lot of others the days after too. but there's no way around it - i will get through them.

for the book, i know i had chosen a book earlier but it didn't really grab me so i might choose one of my other books to read.

anyway, i'll check back in next week and see how i did.

[thecandywrites]

Monster Marcjh 2024 - Day 5- Cervitaur

The Velvet Spa

So, same setting, different characters this time. But here's the piece from last year.

The Velvet Spa is a medical spa specifically geared towards tuars of all kinds, either bi-pedal or quadrapedal- of every kind. They do winter coat removal/de-shedding in the spring. Antler growth supliments and special velvet shampoo to help your antlers grow to be the best that they can be. Hoof trimmings year round. Horn shaping and polishing if you have horns vs antlers. Velvet stripping in the fall and antler shedding in the winter and normal- massages, hair styling, facials, eyelash extensions. Micro-dermabrasion, dermaplaning, botox injections.

And in case you're wondering, yes I was absolutely inspired by Girl With The Dogs on Youtube.

As always, thank you to @borealwrites for making an amazing Monster March 2024 Prompt List.

Monster March 2024 Day 5- Taurs - 

The Velvet Spa

“Thank you for calling The Velvet Spa, this is Charlize, how can I help you?” You answered the phone when it rang in the back from it overflowing the calls in the front. It was the spring, that meant deshedding appointments out the wazoo, overbooked schedules and the phone practically ringing off the hook. 

“Charlie! I’m so glad I caught you!” Came the all too familiar voice from the other side of the phone as your shoulders dropped and you almost regretted picking up the phone. Everytime Otto called- it meant, he needed a favor. Big ones. And right now- was not the time to be calling in those favors. It was spring de-shedding time. The place was super busy, your day was booked solid. 

“Otto, I’m booked solid Bud.” You immediately told him. 

“Really? Come on, please? I need a huge favor for a friend. It’s an emergency!” Otto proclaimed. 

“Then go to the Emergency Room.” You insisted. 

“Not that kind of emergency. Come on, please? Name your price Charlie, I need a Hail Savior. Please. I’m desperate and I know you’ll come through. And you’re the best de-shedder in there. And it’s not for me, it’s for a friend. He’s here for a big business thing and he’s from the East Coast and he’s only here for a couple weeks, but he started to shed his winter coat last night and today he’s miserable. And no one de-sheds like you do. I gave him your card and recommended you specifically.” Otto insisted. 

“Then why isn’t he calling me?” You asked. 

“He did! Several times! But you’ve been busy with clients! He tried talking to the front desk people but he got the run around and they can’t get him in while he’s here, he leaves in a few days. But his proposal and big meet is tomorrow morning. My Man can not work his magic and make this deal if he’s sweating his own fur off into his suit, which that’s not good for anyone. It’s a really big deal. It’s his future on the line. Come on Charlie. Please? If you’d just stay late, I’ll buy you dinner, anywhere you want to go or give you a gift card, or bottle of wine or whatever you want. Please. I’ll even make a down payment on half of his services if you can just get him in. Please?” Otto begged as you took a deep breath and a long exhale. 

“Fine. Is he there with you?” You asked. 

“Yes! Thank you. Yeah, let me get him. I’ll make it up to you when I get paid again.” Otto insisted. 

“I’ll take a gift card, for at least a hundred dollars. And you’re lucky you’re family Otto. You’re costing me a dinner date.” You grumbled as you had to pull out your phone and shoot a text to your date that you had to work late and would need to reschedule. You should know better than to try to have any kind of social life during the spring de-shedding season. 

But the date just blew you off for being a “catfish” for dodging another date with him. Oh fuck this dude. You were gonna be making bank tonight. You didn’t have time for his shit anyway. You quickly blocked his ass while you waited for your second cousin to get his “friend” on the phone as he walked through the office building he worked in. 

“Ok, Charlie, meet my friend Antony. Antony, meet Charlize, aka Charlie.” Otto quickly introduced when he handed the phone over. 

“Hi, Charlize was it?” You heard another voice offer. 

“Hi Antony. My name is Charlize, friends call me Charlie. What can I do for you?” You asked in your nicest tone you could muster. 

“I desperately need a deshedding appointment.” He confessed. 

“Of course, let me look up my schedule real quick to see when I can squeeze you in.” You offered when you looked up the schedule on your phone and tried to find an opening. 

“Please, thank you so much for this, it’s an emergency. I have a big presentation at work tomorrow. And I can’t go in looking like a patchy schmuck.” He pleaded as your eyebrows knitted. It had been a little while since you last heard the term ‘schmuck’. But he was from the East Coast, lingo was absolutely localized you suppose. 

“Well, here’s the thing, I think I can squeeze you in at 7. But since it’s an emergency evening appointment, it’s usually double for those.” You warned. 

“Make it triple. I need the works. I need a deshedding treatment and a conditioning treatment as well as a proper full body blow out and brush.” He answered as you nodded in understanding, you figured. You pulled up Otto’s file and filed this under an ‘Emergency Appointment for Friends and Family’ and made an opening in your schedule only to immediately fill it out for this guy as you started adding all of these services to the appointment.  

“Ok. I can do that.” You nodded in agreement. 

“And you said it was at 7 right?” He asked. 

“Yes. If you could get here at a quarter till, that would be best.” You urged him. 

“I’ll definitely be there. I just woke up this morning and with my morning shower, clogged the drain and all day, I feel like I keep dropping clumps of hair under my clothes and I look like a yearling getting their first spring shed, I practically have spots again.” He complained. 

“Oh you poor thing. You know if you get straight lye…” You began. 

“It’ll eat the hair in the drain. Yeah. I know. Already did that at the AirBnB I’m staying in while I’m here.” He confirmed. 

“Good. I would hate for you to have plumbing problems on top of everything else.” You grinned as you set up his services in the system and the appointment. 

Dang it. You were not going to be able to get food until at least 8:30 now. But this guy was about to drop some serious coin at this appointment and even if he left you a minimal tip, it would be enough to buy you dinner at least. 

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. Thank you so much for getting me in and getting me in so quickly. Can I like- get you dinner after or something?” He thanked you with overwhelming gratitude. 

“Nah you’re good. I get it, you’re here on business and you’re in a pinch and most people have no control over when they go into the rut or their velvet dies, or when their bodies decide to shed their winter coats. I’m glad I could get you in Antony. I hope you crush it tomorrow.” You offered. 

“Now, I have to take you to dinner.” Antony tried to offer as you could hear his smile through the phone.  

“Really, Antony, you don’t have to, it’s ok. Plus, my boyfriend is making me a rack of lamb for dinner anyway.” You tried to lie. The last thing you needed was a pity date from Mr. East Coast - never-gonna-see-him-again. 

“Oh, ok. Well, I’ll still see you at seven then. I really appreciate it.” Antony graciously offered. 

“You’re welcome. See you at seven.” You offered before you hung up and tried to finish your lunch without eating any hair from any clients. You were going to sweat at least five more pounds of sweat off today in the process. But, your clients needed it. 

You finished off your lunch before you grabbed your gloves and went to the waiting room to get your next client. 

Every client with fur was coming in for the spring de-shed of their fur. Antler shedding was dead of winter, which was always a big boost for the winter holidays. But only some had antlers, some had horns depending on their species and some genders. But winter coat de-shedding? That was everyone, every version of a taur was coming in for de-shedding appointments now. 

And The Velvet Spa? It had the best equipment and the best, most highly trained specialists in the state practically. It was a high end medical spa. And catered to taurs of all kinds. 

The spa had special deshedding shower heads. Where a deshedding specialist could get into a large 2 person shower with a client and give them a full body wash with the de-shedding shower heads and de-shedding shampoo and conditioner. Often, the hair catchers around the drain would just be a glob of shed fur that got put into a special trash bag. Then from there, the client would be moved to a dryer box, or “hurricane cage” with the specialist, who now had a special blow dryer nozzle and would blow dry the client out, all over their body and then once the client was blow dried out, inside the special “hurricane cage”. Then they got a full body brushing and deshedding so that all their hair, from head to toe, or head to hoof in other cases, would get brushed out and would lay right. And then, once that was done, the client would look and feel like a brand new person. 

Thankfully, you were able to get by- in the afternoon as it turned from afternoon to evening by a few fruit and nut granola bars. It wasn’t real dinner by any stretch of the imagination but it was better than nothing and Bianca kept the snacks overflowing during these times in the year just for this purpose. 

You barely made it out to the lobby by 7, after seeing your last client off before you were handed his folder when you saw his receipt stapled to the itemized service order. Holy shit, this man, not only paid for everything you put in here, but left you a huge tip. The largest of the day. Well damn. He meant business. 

“Mr. Morrigan?” You called out before a very handsome cervitaur nearly jumped to his feet and hurriedly came up to you. Damn it, you should have said yes to that date with him. Fuck. Why did you lie to him about the whole boyfriend and dinner thing? Because you didn’t want to be the pity date. Of course, it would figure that he would be the sharpest dressed man in the waiting room. Fuck. He must have been Mr. Big Shot. Damn it! He was only here for a few more days, and you’d never see him again. You were looking for something with a lot more permanence in your love life anyway. So you simply put on a polite smile while inwardly kicking yourself. 

“Yes, that’s me.” He offered. 

“So you’re Otto’s cousin Charlie?” He guessed. 

“Yes. I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you Antony.” You shook his hand. Fuck, he may have been shedding, but the man smelled damn good. His cologne was making your mouth water. 

“So, big presentation tomorrow eh?” You recalled as you had him follow you to the shower room. 

“Yes. It’s a quarterly update, my company got a lot of seed money and it’s a report to the investors on how well said seeds are growing. I’ve been practicing it all week in between being walked through how things are run out here. I’m just really nervous and then to add this surprise shed, might as well be a blown tire on my way to an interview as far as a monkey wrench into things. Normally I have a different place I go to- back east. But I feel silly just flying back, just to get this done, just to try to fly back here in time.” He offered. 

“Oh, I totally get it. And yeah, it’s a lot to risk, just to get de-shed, which to most people who don’t have fur- seems kind of a silly thing, but it’s like- trying to do this with a really bad hair cut and getting your hair destroyed by a newbie hair stylist who was trying to give you auburn and ended up giving you neon purple instead. It’s a big deal and it’s important to look and feel your best.” You readily explained.

“Yes! Exactly!” He nodded. 

“Well, I’m glad I could get you in and this totally counts as a total emergency. Well, here’s your room. Get undressed, put on the bathrobe and then leave the room by the door on the other side. I’ll be locking the room from this side so that no one can come in and steal anything while you’re getting your fur de-shed. Ok? And I’ll meet you on the other side.” You offered before you locked the door and then put his paperwork in the file holder outside the room before you quickly walked around and entered the spa from the back and got your bay prepared while he undressed.

He came out the other side, with just a towel around his waist. God damn, he was jacked and hulking. He must have had one hell of a rack over the winter too. Figures, of course he was, this could not get any better or, worse depending on your point of view. He may have had at least four inches of fur all over, but you could see those pecks and abs from here. Lord have mercy. God damn it, a pity date with Mr. Gorgeous didn’t sound so bad now did it? 

“Ok, we’re in here.” You gestured to the shower stall, that was frosted at waist height to preserve some modesty to them as you put on your special shield and gloves after filling the canister on the special shower nozzle with one hand and your special shower scrubber in the other hand. 

“Ok, do you want to go face first or back first?” You asked. 

“Uhh, back?” He asked. 

“Ok, feet or hooves in second position. You will want to put your hands on the bar though once you adjust the temperature of the water to your liking.” You gently warned him before you used the toe of your waders to kick over a special stool to step on and not slip so you could get to the top of his head behind him as he turned the rain shower over him on and turned it up to a hot temperature as the stall filled with steam before he took a moment to get wet and relax for a moment before you went in and took the special nozzle and started washing the top of his head, seeing the now fuzzed over patches where his antlers would be growing out in the summer and fall. 

You would make swipes with the deshedding shampoo nozzle with one hand and used your massaging scrubber in the other. 

Antony could do little but moan and groan in pleasure as all kinds of hair got un-impacted down his body. 

He put his hands splayed out on the shower wall and simply melted into this. His ears drooped and his shoulders sagged as even his belly softened as his eyes closed in serenity. As you could see in the reflection of the glass on the inside that he got an erection too. 

It was seen as unprofessional to appraise a client’s genitalia, but- he had been blessed with more than just good looks. But you kept your eyes and your focus on the professional service you were offering, as the professional you were doing your best to be. You went from his head, to his neck, to his shoulders and back, even his rear. And down the back of his legs. 

“Ok, turn around so I can do the front please.” You requested before his eyes snapped open before his hands covered his erection as he seemed to look around for something to use to hide it. 

“Sir, it’s a natural reaction to the service. It happens to everyone. It’s ok. But if you really are uncomfortable, I can get you a hand towel.” You calmly and patiently offered. 

“No, I’m…I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m just not used to this. I mean, I have place back home that does something like this but…I’m just not used to having this…bad of a reaction and I’m so sorry. You’re an amazing professional, I’m so sorry.” He tried to justify as it was clear it was practically painful for him and the harder he tried to get his erection to go away, the harder it got and the higher it speared the air. 

“Really, Antony, it’s ok. I’m used to it. Even the old geezers get this reaction. And with them, I worry about them fainting because for them, it’s been decades since they’ve popped a boner and they’re not used to the blood flow being away from the head on their shoulders and we worry they’ll faint and slip and break a hip or break the one thing no man ever wants to break.” You tried to joke which got him to snort a laugh. 

“Here.” You put the scrubber down and gave him a hand towel to cover himself, because a little washcloth was not going to cover it.

“Thank you.” He thanked you as he used it to wrap around himself before he turned around and then closed his eyes and avoided your gaze as you rolled your eyes and changed out the bottle of deshedding shampoo into the nozzle before you continued with the process of washing his front, with the same care and attention that you had given his back. 

You also couldn’t help but notice he was subtly stroking his cock with the now wet and soapy hand towel. 

Whatever, at least he wasn’t propositioning you. And at least, he wasn't asking you to “take care of it” for any price. Which he would automatically dismissed as a client if he did. Surely, he knew the rules, same as you. 

“So, how long have you been working here?” He asked as he opened his eyes and watched as you washed one arm down while the other hand now kept the hand towel in place. 

“A year and a half.” You answered. 

“Well, I can see and feel why. This place was very highly recommended by everyone I worked with. Whether they were taur or not.” He appraised. 

“We work hard to keep our reputation as sterling as it is.” You offered as you got his belly and did what you could to work around his groin.  

“So…were you named after Charlize Theron or….?” He asked as you grinned. Very few guys tried that line. Was he subtly still flirting with you?

“Nope. I was supposed to be a boy, I was supposed to be born as a Charles. But then when I came out a girl, Charlize was close enough, and still a ‘Charlie’ either way.” You answered as you sat at your ankles then knelt at his feet to get at his quads better as you ignored the way his cock bobbed next to your head. 

Shit, were you ovulating? Why were you taking notice of every little detail with him? You had been cool with all of your other clients today, why was he sticking out so much? Maybe you needed to hit that vibrator in your car after work. Something. Or perhaps it was regret on exactly what you had lied to turn down. Probably regret. 

“Oh shit.” He groaned when you got to the top of his foot where the fur got finer before it would fade to an otherwise human looking foot as you grinned smugly and then really put your weight into the scrubber to scrub at his feet and ankles. 

“Why does that feel fucking phenomenal?” He asked as he couldn’t help but lean forward with his hands suddenly braced on his knees, letting you get an eyeful. But at least he was leaning on himself and not on you. 

“The especially fine fur on the backs of your hands and wrists and feet and ankles and muzzle, rarely gets the deep scrubbing that the rest of you gets. Even though it needs it just as much.” You answered before you switched to the other foot. 

“How expensive is that scrubber thing?” He asked. 

“Not any more expensive than any other scalp massager. We sell them out front, we sell this one and then cheaper options and more expensive options too. You can buy one before you leave.” You answered as you had to kneel and sit back on your feet and really get down to scrub as he was acting like this was some kind of religious experience. 

“How much is it to just get good scrub downs like this?” He asked. 

“Only $75 for full body scrub downs, during regular business hours, a hundred and fifty for after hours.” You answered.

“When are you available to do this again? Because you’re going way harder and doing a way better job than the girls back east ever do it.” He wondered. 

“Oh, well some specialists have a much softer touch and much gentler techniques for most things period. I’m obviously not. I’m much heavier handed than most are. For some though, I’m a bit too aggressive, others, especially when there’s impaction with fur or hair, need a more vigorous approach. Because it takes far too long to get the impaction loose if you go soft. And I don’t usually have that kind of time to take with every single client. Especially in the busy spring winter coat- de-shed.” You shrugged.

“There, any spots I should get again?” You asked as you rinsed off his hand towel and handed it back to him to cover over himself. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m, I’m good. Thanks.” He sheepishly took it to cover over himself awkwardly again.  

“Ok, let’s get you rinsed.” You nodded as you took off the canister and twisted the face to get the right setting and then got up on your stool. 

“And close your eyes.” You instructed before he did and held his breath while you got his face before you took the spray away to scrub at the soft, shorter, finer hair around his face and head again before rinsing it off. Then you moved to his neck and chest, and got his arms and belly then, had to ignore his groin to get his hips and legs. 

“And turn around please.” You made a motion for him to turn before he did as you got back on the stool and got the back of his head, down his neck, then his shoulders as you ignored his subtle stroking of himself as you got to his butt and suddenly his strokes were faster as he leaned against the glass and had his eyes closed as you worked down from his rear to his hamstrings then his calves and ankles before he was pumping himself almost at a heinous pace as you just shook your head.

So much for being subtle. Men were always going to be men you supposed.  Maybe it was best you were seeing this, pop this attraction bubble you were in, and slip you right back into reality. You were a specialist, he was a client, leave it at that, period.

At least his body only tensed a moment later and he kept his sounds down before you got the special squeegee to try to get a fair bit of water out of his fur so you wouldn’t be in the hurricane room too long. 

“Better?” You asked once you finished as he seemed to get himself together. 

“Yeah, much, thanks.” He said as his cock was now, clearly softening. 

“That can go here, in the dirty laundry.” You urged him once you had turned the water off and took your face shield off and shoved your hood back too to keep your head from getting wet as you readily got the room cleaned around him and rinsed out the canisters to be refilled tomorrow. 

“If you’ll follow me to the hurricane booth.” You invited as you had him follow you across the room where a special booth was as you went and grabbed a special hat and hair net to keep you from inhaling any of his fur before you closed the door behind him and then turned on the vents as the air current around the room picked up. 

“Ready?” You asked. 

“Yup.” He nodded before you took the special nozzle and then used the super powerful blow dryer to power dry him, head to toe as you weren’t surprised when it was like it was a furnado in there for several hot minutes as you blew out his coat as the fan and circulation caught all the blown fur only a few moments after it detached from his body as you used a thicker metal de-shedding comb to get the bigger clumps. 

Granted, he was a big guy, but you still managed to get him dry and get out of there before you brought him back to his room to brush him out propper, grinning when he was groaning and moaning again. Maybe he was just unusually stressed and or touch starved. Probably both. 

Once you got him all brushed out, he did look so much better. Nice and clean, lean and neat and his fur practically had a satin sheen as it laid down in it’s natural pattern. 

“Ok, well, my job is done here. Feel better? Happy with how it turned out?” You asked him as you nodded to the full size mirror on the wall.

“Yes. You did an amazing job, thank you so much for getting me in on such short notice. I’ll schedule back with you when you have an available appointment when I’m in town next.” He insisted.

“I’d look forward to working with you again too.” You offered with another nod before you got out and walked around to get his paperwork and checked a few things off before handing it back to the front desk for when he would check out before you walked back into the back, eager to get out of this damn wader suit and wet gear. Although you were sure, you probably needed another shower yourself. But for now. You just needed to get your shit and clock out and get to your car where your vibrator was practically calling your name. 

You did just that, happy when there was a few hundred dollars cash that you could put into your wallet from cash tips and got out of there. Walking quickly to where you had backed your car into a parking space so you could just pull out of there.

You quickly got into your car and turned it on just enough to crack the windows to let the warm spring air in and so the windows wouldn’t fog up if you took a few minutes to get off. You quickly grabbed your vibrator and your little bottle of lubed and reached into your scrubs and under your gut and under your fupa to get at your mound and slip the lube around your nub while the vibrator took a second to warm up under your belly and between that and into the crux of your belly and thigh before you grabbed it and manuvered it in your pants before you managed to slip it in and then into position that when you would “sit” normally, the handle would just have enough contact with the seat that you’d be able to move it with just your core without having to keep a hold of it with your hands.

You turned the car off and then popped your headphones into your ears because you did not want what you were going to be playing to be loud enough for anyone to hear but you and got an incognito tab open, your favorite porn site, your favorite trope typed in, your favorite video soon popped up and you grinned excitedly.

The one with exceptional visuals and even better audio. The one where you could really hear the guy’s grunts, his growls, his snarles, his big heavy breathing that matched his big, heavy, furry, “monsterous” form. One that would fuck you senseless, the kind that used you without asking for permission, the kind that dominated you and you said ‘thank you’. The kind that was hung like a draft horse if not a brama bull and would really bulge your already plump and soft belly. The kind that would use you like a cocksleeve and fuck you until your mind broke. The kind that was strong enough to lift you and move you like a doll, and make your rolls jiggle and whose large hands would still get ample hold of your thighs and ass and breasts and belly. The kind that blew your back out and would make you look like you stuck a fork into a light socket and practically rearrange your guts while making your insides grin like an idiot. The kind that would choke you, spank you, rough you up just enough to shut you up and turn you into the kind of "good girl" most bad guys loved. But who could be wild and "tamed" and be tender and affectionate only moments after. That kind. 

You turned it on and melted into the experience and slipped into the fantasy and took a long, exhale as the tension in your chest started to melt as you ground down into the vibrator’s touch, canting it forward so it would really work over your G-spot while the rabbit would press against your clit. You had spent almost a heinous amount on this particular vibrator but it was perfect and worth it. You didn’t need much. You barely needed one whole video before you couldn’t help but lull your head back and scrunch your face as you bit your lip as your legs went straight and ridged. Your belly fluttered as your lower back got that good release and deep relax. A pleasured grin bloomed on your features as you opened your eyes and then looked out of the windshield. 

Then movement out of the corner of your eye as you turned to see Antony, sitting in the front seat of his huge SUV rental, across the way and down a bit. Shit, had he been there this whole time?! Fuck. Oh this could be a disaster. What was he doing back here? And what was he looking for? Shit, he saw you and smiled and was walking over after he got out of his vehicle. 

Shit! This vibrator was quiet but not that quiet. He would definitely be able to tell. You quickly reached for the vibrator to turn it off as subtly as you could before he approached and leaned over to talk to you out of your car window.

“Oh good you didn’t leave yet!” He smiled as you reached forward to turn the car back on just enough to roll the window down all the way as you got your headphones out of your ears so you could hear him.

Oh good, he had just gotten there. Ok, you could still salvage this. 

“No, not yet.” You shook your head no as you put on a customer service smile. 

“Can I help you with something?” You asked politely as your pussy clenched around the vibrator and you could only hope he would be oblivious to what you were really doing as you damned your cheeks for flushing as red as a beet. 

“Uh, yeah, uh, sorry.” He stuttered and stammered as he shook his head violently as if that would knock the right words into his mouth as you saw his nostrils flare as he took a few deep breaths through his nose. Fuck could he smell you too?! This couldn’t get any worse. 

“So, about, in there.” He felt obligated to say as it was clear he was frustrated and flushed as the fur around his cheeks looked practically pink as he tried to shuffle his weight from one foot to the other. Shit, was he getting hard again? Why was he affecting you? Or were you affecting him?

“It’s ok. Antony. I get it. Sometimes that physical reaction gets so intense that you need to take care of it, because it’s easier and faster than waiting for it to go away. It’s ok. That’s why we have all those washcloths and hand towels in there in the first place. You didn’t cross the line and proposition me, if anything you tried to be subtle and discreet about it. Every first timer goes through it. It’s awkward, but it’s normal.” You tried to reassure him as you felt rather hypocritical about it too, with your pussy currently being stuffed with your biggest vibrator you could manage to still be discreet in your car in the parking garage. 

“Yeah, thanks for the reassurance, um…I hope dinner with your boyfriend is as delicious as it should be. He’s lucky to have you.” He offered as he tried to take a half step back, as you sighed and groaned and whimpered. 

“Ok, I gotta come clean Dude. I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone one who would even think that having dinner ready by the time I would come home -would ever be an option. Let alone one who would have the cooking prowess to even know how to cook a rack of lamb, much less have such a thing ready on a regular thursday night that wasn’t some super special occasion, like a birthday, or an anniversary. It was a lie. I just didn’t want a pity date. Plus the Spa has a very firm- no dating clients- thing. And you were in a super tight spot and I would be scum if I took unfair advantage of you, especially when you were in an hour of need.” You confessed as your cheeks were now probably permanently flushed as you didn’t even have the heart to look up past your steering wheel. 

“Charlize, first off, you absolutely deserve to have a partner in life who absolutely would and should have dinner ready by the time you get home. You work really hard and you work smart. You had great body mechanics and wonderful effectiveness. And hopefully you make enough doing it to provide you with the lifestyle you deserve. I asked you out because you’re really sweet and lovely and one hell of a professional. And because Otto was sure that you were single. If you don’t like me or think less of me because I had a moment of weakness, that’s more than fair. But at the very least, when you get a chance, come to Aurora Boreallis, give them this ok? And have a night on the town, on me.” He offered as he gave you a business card and then an electronic card from the casino. It looked like one of those charge cards at Dave and Busters but obviously, from the casino. 

“Thanks.” You thanked him as you took it. 

“So, first off, I asked you out before you took me on as a client. I don’t know how things are done out here. But back east, if there was already a previous relationship before any professional service, there can be one after. I’m still interested in taking you out on a date. But the question remains, are you interested or not?” He asked. 

“Oh, I am, but, not tonight. It’s late, I’m tired, I need sleep. Tomorrow is gonna be just as busy but I’m off on Sunday.” You offered. 

“I can do that. How about brunch on Sunday?” He offered. 

“Sounds awesome.” You grinned before you exchanged phone numbers. 

“See you Sunday.” You offered him before you both went your separate ways.

[changingplumbob]

Nishidake Household: Chapter 5, Part 3

In this part Keira pops by, Charlie invites her parents over for dinner and Kaori tries to lift Charlie's spirits when she gets in a gloomy funk.

Charlie is busy tending the garden while a betrayed post bath Clover mopes on her dog bed.

*Doorbell*

Clover: *barks* I got it mummy, I got it

Keira: *shivers*  let me in let me in let me in

Charlie: Hey! I didn’t know you were stopping by

Keira: Can we please talk inside where I can feel my fingers

Charlie: No. I’m comfy out here

Keira: Charlie!

Charlie: Kidding, get in. Just remember, no shoes inside

Keira: I’m so glad you two got a thermostat

Charlie: I don’t know if it was worth it, you kept us pretty warm before with lighting that fire

Keira: It was an accident! When are you going to forget it

Charlie: Never. It’s in the big sister code somewhere that I’m obligated to remind you that you set my dryer on fire until one of us dies

Keira: Fine. Then I get to forever remind you about every time your sport practice broke windows

Charlie: Sounds fair

Keira: Oh I love that photo of us, our first one in Sulani. It feels like forever ago now

Charlie: Keira, you didn’t come all this way to talk about photos that are on the wall at home

Charlie: What’s going on? Is everything alright with Marta?

Keira: With Marta? Oh she’s great. But umm… I’m a bit worried about mum and dad

Charlie: What do you mean

Keira: They’ve been taking Carson to all these appointments lately and coming home tired. I worry they’re wearing themselves out

Charlie: They are getting older Keira

Keira: I tried to offer to cook for them to help but they know I can’t cook. Marta can but they keep insisting she’s a guest. Could you invite them around here for dinner or something? Let them get out of the house

Charlie: If it’ll make you feel better, I have tomorrow off work anyway

Keira: Thanks Charlie

Charlie: So what’s Carson got these appointments for

Keira: Mum won’t tell me, just says not to worry about it while putting on a happy face

Charlie: Don’t worry Keira, I’ll help them take a night off. Promise

Keira: Thanks. This is why you're my favourite sister

Charlie: Yeah I... Wait, I'm your only sister!

Upstairs Kaori is busy. Having finished filming her video she now needs to get started on editing, a well as adding effects and transitions.

Clover: *barks* Mummy time for snuggles and snooze

Kaori: Is it bedtime already

Clover: *barks* yes that is what I just said

Kaori: *sighs* I guess this will keep until tomorrow. Lead the way

The next morning the couple decide to start the day off with a bang while they both have energy, before leaving bed.

Kaori: Got plans for your day off

Charlie: I’m going to invite mum and dad for dinner. Hey maybe we could get some climbing practice in?

Kaori: Sure- oh wait. I forgot, I do have this video I need to get out

Charlie: When by

Kaori: Sometime this morning… not sure exactly

Charlie: Okay. I can chill around the house until you’re ready

Kaori: Thanks. I do want to go climbing

Charlie: But you also like money, I understand

Kaori: Where was I… PrimSims… I need to be better at labelling stuff

Clover: *barks* Everything should be given its own scent

Kaori: I think the first half is good but this second half needs work

Diligently working on her video, Kaori is kept company by Clover who has a very good “Are you done yet” face. Eventually though Kaori uploads it, and gets the bonus for correct content!

Charlie and Kaori set off for the climbing wall and try to assess the conditions (is it normal to not get a pop up about it? What’s the point of assessing if the game won’t even tell you). After putting on their climbing gear and doing a few warm up stretches they get started. Both manage to make it to the top but the practice is full of many falls. Luckily they’re prepared and don’t get injured. Eventually the two have had enough of slipping and decide to head home when the watcher notices the ice sign.

Charlie: Would have been nice to know that earlier

They arrive home to good news, Clover’s snow booties have arrived!

Charlie: Let’s see… oh they fit great don’t they honey pie

Clover: *barks* the heck am I wearing

Charlie: Shall we go for a run to test them out huh

Clover: *barks* Wait, why isn’t the snow making my paws wet

Charlie and her dog head off. It doesn’t take much time for Clover to adjust to the booties and soon enough she’s running like she’s worn them all her life.

Kaori: Another bit of broken plumbing? Seriously *sighs* I guess I could stream fixing it, maybe that will help my fame level

After a messy fix Kaori sets her sights on dinner. The drone has plenty of battery left so she decides to change her handiness livestream in to a cooking livestream.

*doorbell*

Kaori: That must be my in-laws, thanks for watching everyone

Kayleigh: Who were you talking to

Kaori: Just the drone

Charlie: Oh crumbs, I forgot the time. We better race home Clover

Kayleigh: Lovely to see you Kaori

Kaori: Thanks for coming. Sometimes I just want to make a big meal for sharing but Charlie and I can't eat it all alone

Kayleigh: Where’s my daughter got to

Kaori: She was taking Clover for a run. She’ll be back soon. How have you been

Kayleigh shrugs in a non-committal way as the door opens again.

Charlie: Sorry if I’m late

Harvey: No worries, we haven’t started eating yet

Charlie: So how’s things at home

Harvey: Pretty good, I’m getting my fish stocks up

Kayleigh: And I’m working on some new paintings

Charlie: How’s Carson

Kayleigh: Did we tell you he has asthma

Charlie: Reece told us. Is he doing okay?

Kayleigh: He’s… adjusting

Kaori: My grandmother had asthma. It’s not too tricky to manage once you get a routine. I’m sure Keira and Marta would be happy to help with cleaning if you asked

Kayleigh: But they’re guests

Charlie: They’re family mum. They’ll help. And Carson is in scouts, he must know some recipes by now

After dinner wraps up Kayleigh gives Harvey a quick peck on the cheek before heading outside to play some chess with Charlie. Clover takes a well deserved nap following her run, and Harvey chats to Kaori.

Harvey: They left you how much

Kaori: I know, it’s a lot. But Charlie and I want to do some good with it. We’re just not sure where to start

Harvey: You’re both sensible, you’ll think of something

Kaori: We did have an idea that we could place an offer on the park in Wakaba, try and stop every space there being turned in to new houses

Harvey: See now, that’s a great idea! How exactly would you go about doing that though

Kaori: Well the park is owned by the council at the moment but they’ve let the neighbourhood residents know they’re open to offers on the space

Harvey: It sounds like a good first step, buying a park to keep it as a park. I’m sure that’s the kind of thing your grandparents wanted you to do as a guardian

Kaori: I hope so. I really hope so

Charlie: Are you sure you’re managing mum

Kayleigh: Honey, please, I’m not even an elder

Charlie: I know but Keira said you’ve been taking Carson to all these appointments and-

Kayleigh: Charlie, I love you, but your brother’s health is his private business

Charlie: *sighs* Keira’s just worried you’ll burn yourself out. And yeah maybe I’m worried to

Kayleigh: I’m doing well, so is your dad. When sims grow older they get more tired, we’re adjusting. Now I think I can head off

Charlie: But the game-

Kayleigh: Checkmate

Charlie: Again? Ugh, how did I miss that

Charlie and Kaori head to the gym to fit in some more climbing practice but it seems they’re out of luck.

Kaori: Why are climbing machines roped off

Suzanna: Oh I just asked management. They’re doing some necessary upgrades apparently

Joey: See I told you the gym would be broken

Deanna: She didn’t say all the machines are broken

Joey: Maybe we should just pretend they are. So, purple, you like rock climbing do you? If you ever want to try out your technique, I’m down for being climbed

Suzanna: *laughs* Steady on kid, I’m married

*THUNK*

Devin: Don’t panic everyone! Just another fan

Charlie: It really does happen all the time

Devin: That’s what I’ve been saying

Charlie: Do you have time to walk Clover this morning

Kaori: Sure

Charlie: Thanks. This faux meat wall is difficult to improve, I want to give it a good massage today

Kaori pulls a face but nevertheless gets Clover and her booties ready for a walk.

Charlie takes some time to try and improve her logic skill again, playing another match against herself. The problem is the other her always wins. She lets out a particularly heavy sigh of frustration as Kaori and Clover get back.

Kaori: You okay Char

Charlie: I just lost, again

Kaori: But doesn’t that mean you also won

Charlie: Nope. I lost. I can never beat myself

Kaori decides Charlie needs to get away from the chess board to get some perspective.

Kaori: Do you want to head to the climbing walls at the gym? The walls here are icy again

Charlie: They’ll probably be icy forever (Charlie is very much in her gloomy mindset today)

Kaori: Shall we race to the top

Charlie: Yeah I guess, but I’ll probably just lose

Kaori: Come on Char, you know you can climb

Charlie is slow to get into it but nevertheless Kaori persists with her cheerful chatter and encouragement. As time passes the exercise endorphins help Charlie who begins to get back to her competitive normal. The end results show that Charlie has climbed further than Kaori, drawing a smile from Charlie which of course makes Kaori happy.

When they get home Kaori heads upstairs to edit some videos that have been sitting on her hard drive for a while. There’s one on handiness, and one on cooking, and of course another stereotypical product review. Kaori really hopes one day she can get free stuff to review rather than paying for it herself. Maybe at the next celebrity level. Downstairs Charlie takes her improving mood and tends to the bonsai bush in the hall.

Charlie: Now, where… to start?

Clover: *barks* it’s too tall now

Charlie: I wish I could remember what shape I made last time

Clover: *barks* prune it into a ball shape

Charlie: Maybe if I keep the stuff on this side… and chop this?

Clover: *barks* that’s not a ball shape

Maybe it isn’t tennis ball shaped but pruning it has helped get Charlie in a focused headspace for her game today. She pops upstairs to wish Kaori good luck for her dinner and then heads off.

Previous ... Next

[iantimony]

twoweeker tuesday: redux

im really making a trend of two-weekin these huh. gonna try to Not do that bc it makes me way less likely to actually do it lol. speed-posting this before bed (and before the melatonin kicks my ass, i'm trying to reset my sleep sched a bit)

listening: hozier unreal unearth. sammy rae & the friends. leaving this pretty sparse because i don't want to dig back through my history for the past two weeks and that's definitely the bulk of it. some notes from the Release Radar(tm) that i like: good luck, babe! - chappell roan bell - rob blivion waiting. - pater ...all (feat jake clemons, live) - grouplove i had not my hat - tom rosenthal april 8, 2024: the great north american eclipse - sleeping at last (!!!) too sweet - hozier flea - st vincent lil' freak - bbno$

reading: finished the main bit of scum villain! i'm reading the extras now. officially read all three mxtx books

watching: FINISHED SERIAL EXPERIMENTS LAIN. i have so many thoughts. i was in delta-orionis' dms about it a bit but my ass has so many Notes. many thoughts. gnosticism mostly but also the obvious tech-as-extension-of-self throughline. idk it was a very weird show and i definitely need to re-watch it to let it sink in a little more.

playing: no games but a lot of horn! i have an audition tomorrow for the fall's campus ensembles, i am...not super confident about it tbh, unsurprisingly i am not back to where i was pre-pandemic so my upper range and endurance is still really crunchy.

making: i keep forgetting to charge my phone before pottery so it keeps. dying. so i made quite a few new things the past few weeks but no photos of those - i did Crack the Code a bit, so now i can more reliably get things shaped in a conscious way. basically i was sitting too far forward so when i was pulling the walls up i was actually doing it at an angle, if i sit with my nose over the center of the pot it's all *chef kiss* beautiful. anyways here's a few glaze related pics. a lot of disappointment unfortunately.

1. my fucked up teacups. god im so mad about these. they were supposed to be a cool grey-green with a white flower, and matte. it is None Of These Things. idk will get redone. big mad.

2. bowl and mug that both got bubbles because i misread the glaze labels - they're both mayco glazes that are optimized for cone 05, not cone 5, so the both the color is not as good as i thought and also the surface variation is. not great. the bowl is acceptable, it's mirror blue, it went through the kiln again and the bubbles evened out (pic is from before), and plus it's on the outside - i just put plain white on the inside - so it's fine. the mug is a little more problematic. it was green slip sgraffito with evergreen fir over top, and i really love the color effect, but there's some small bubbles along the rim...this glaze was marked as food safe in a way that the mirror blue is Not so i thought it would be fine but. well. i'm hoping nuking it in the kiln again will smooth those out.

3. One Good Thing: trying a new glaze technique! someone in my studio does this gorgeous thing where she paints on flowers with underglaze, then covers them with liquid latex to paint on the background, and finally peels off the latex. it always comes out sooo nice, so when i ordered some more underglaze i went ahead and added liquid latex to cart too :3 this is just the flowers, i will be adding the background tomorrow!

eating: uhhh good cauliflower vegetarian shawarma thing that i refused to make unless we added a can of chickpeas because where in the fuck is the protein. tonight was a miso-butter chicken with radishes that we added potatoes and onions to. both sheetpan recipes so im def a fan of those now.

misc: ouuuugh. augh. oughghghg. i need to be done with homework forever please god. i have like...7? 8? total hws left between my two classes. and then i am Done With Classes. mentally gearing up to do my preliminaries at the end of the summer. not to doxx myself but ouch. basketball yesterday. Pain. the eclipse yesterday WAS unreal. oh my god. i drove to [redacted] very small town about 40 minutes from me and it was perfect. so glad i avoided the Big City, although that's where my roommate and her mom went and apparently the traffic was fine, but i'm definitely glad to have been in a less crowded zone. i get it now. i want to take that feeling i had watching totality and eat it and keep it with me forever. i was with friends. the weather was perfect. it was beautiful.

[ask-tech-and-rev]

Who would be able to make a 5 star meal and who would set fire to eater just by looking at it?

Rev: Well I do regularly wake up the earliest of everyone in the tower and so I took to being the one to cook breakfast for the entire team every morning and have since expanded into making lunches and dinners as well, particularly when I need to bring food to a certain workaholic holed up in his lab. Tech: Hey! someone has to keep all of our gear up to date and fully functional you know as well as I do that I am in there as often as I am for a reason… especially with Duck constantly breaking some of our gear and tools so I need to repair my babies, but yes your cooking is very good Rev and I appreciate it, and to further answer your question yeah I can't cook for shit its why I often am ordering food when Rev doesn't have the time or energy to cook us something. Rev: I know Tech I'm just messing with ya, yanking your tail so to speak cause of course I wouldn't ever actually do that cause not only would it be rude, but would likely hurt you a lot and I'd never wanna do that, but anyways I'm always happy to make us something to eat cause it means I get to try out all sorts of fun recipes and actually get to try them before Slam gets to them. (We figured since we will have a busy day tomorrow we would try and squeeze in one more question from our feed tonight, we will return to answering these asap though)

[corn-fanfiction]

Oh My Love (Damien Karras x GN Reader Pt. 2)

(Pt. 1) (Pt. 3)

You let your curiosity get the better of you. You press your ear to the door.

“Father…”

“It’s not unusual, Damien.”

“Forgive me, Father, but it doesn’t do much to reassure me. I don’t think I’m doing enough here.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

“I don’t know.” Damien sighs. He sounds exasperated. “And my mother is getting sick again… how much good can I be doing if I can’t even take care of her?”

-

Rating: M

Tags: religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, priest kink, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, gn reader, queer characters, realistic depictions of anxiety attacks, s*icide, foul language, eventual sm*t

In the time since you’ve been gone from Georgetown, any friends you made in your undergrad program have gone their separate ways, onto their own master’s theses that have taken them hundreds to thousands of miles away. So, when you move into your cramped apartment on Prospect Street, and you’re surrounded by all your belongings reduced to a room of cardboard boxes, all you can seem to do is sit on your floor, record player spinning lazily as Helplessly Hoping by Crosby, Stills, and Nash plays. You’d managed to pull an outfit for your first day tomorrow, and that hung on the bedroom doorframe. But here, with an old Latin workbook in hand, you’re content to not move.

And it isn’t until your alarm clock screams you awake that you realize you’d fallen asleep on the floor, record player skipping on the final groove. You groan as you spot a dried pool of drool on one of the pages of the book you’d been reading. No matter. It was covered in annotations and markers anyway.

It's 5am. You groggily make your way to the bathroom to shower. The water takes a good five minutes to heat but when it does, it undoes the knots that formed in your back from sleeping on the floor. You really can’t complain about the apartment for how little you pay monthly. You also earn a small stipend for translating. It’s not a bad deal.

After showering you dress in running gear, though you suspect that it's going to be more of a brisk walk around the track field on campus. You cover all your hygienic bases. Of course, you remember that you still haven’t stocked your fridge or pantry, so breakfast is out of the question until you leave the apartment.

You sigh as you check your wallet. You have a wadded up 5 dollar bill and some loose change. Maybe it’s enough for a coffee and a bagel.

You’re grateful the walk from your apartment to Holy Trinity is only a couple of blocks, and there’s a food stall on the way. It doesn’t take you long to snag some food- stale bagel and bland coffee. You’ve also got a box tucked under your arm- a small collection of things you assume go into a study: pens, pencils, tape, a snake plant, and some coffee. You assume the church has a coffee maker somewhere.

Once you reach Trinity you store your box in your new office. It's small but features a square stained glass window behind the desk. It's perfectly suitable for your needs.

You'll spend more time in here later, but for now you're antsy and want to stretch your legs, even if there's still a crick in your neck from sleeping on the floor. You grab your coffee and scarf down your bagel and head for the field.

You ran competitive track during your undergrad and it paid for most of your schooling. The familiar smell of the rubber lanes excites you and even the fog on this morning can't keep you from smiling. You remove your Georgetown hoodie and stretch a little, letting your torso pop and crack as you move. It's a satisfying sound. You turn your head to crack your neck and notice a neat pile of a towel and a water bottle. Someone else is here.

And just when you re-lace your sneakers, you spot a figure running towards you on the track. Full sweats, so they must be a dedicated runner as well. You straighten, ready to greet the stranger, when upon closer inspection you realize it's not a stranger at all.

Damien Karras slows to a light jog as he draws nearer then slows to a stop when he reaches you. You sort of just look at each other for a moment, clearly surprised to see another person out this early.

“Um, hi,” you greet awkwardly. Damien is still trying to catch his breath when he gives you a polite wave. He reaches for the towel- his towel, and wipes sweat from his brow.

“Morning. Want to run?”

You're a little shocked by his sudden invitation. “I was just looking to take a walk. I don't wanna slow you down.”

He shakes his head and replaces the towel.

“I don't mind if you don't. I should probably take a break.”

You smile and grab your coffee. If it's a walk, you can drink as you go.

He lets you set the pace which is nice. You walk for a while in a comfortable silence before you decide to break it.

“So…”

“So.”

“You said you have an office on the second floor. That's professors, right?”

“Technically. The church paid for me to study psychiatry, so I offer counseling for students and church members alike.”

“That's pretty neat. If you've been on campus, how come I never saw you during my undergrad?”

“I was probably at Johns Hopkins. I only came back last year.”

“Hm. How do you like it?”

And for the briefest moment, you watch his face shift in the classic Catholic move of ‘lie or truth’. Which is more painful? Which is more sinful? The problem is, you don’t know him near well enough to decipher which side wins out.

“It’s an adjustment. I like being able to help people.”

“Well, sounds really noble to me.”

He smiles at you bashfully. It’s, frankly, adorable.

“So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you do besides re-read ancient texts and run in the mornings?”

“Well, you don’t know I run .”

He observes you for a brief moment before cracking a side smile. “Sure I do.”

You fight a blush. “Okay, well, I like to read- other than old pieces of parchment. Um, I love music, every kind of music.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Because some people say it and don’t mean it.”

“Country, rock, classic, you name it. Obviously, running, and- oh, well you haven’t seen it yet, but I have a snake plant in my office. Which is weird, to think I have an office.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I guess, it’s not that self-doubt, humble thing of ‘I don’t deserve it’. But it just feels…weird. Not what I expected.”

If you had been looking at him, you’d notice the obvious gears in his head turning. “You don’t feel like you belong?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I’ve always been a chameleon. I fit myself in and eventually the space, the people, even I believe it. Not that it’s always untrue. But it’s definitely a skill I put on my resume.”

“‘Chameleon’?”

You laugh. “Adaptable.”

“Ah.”

You walk for another moment in silence until you realize he’s waiting for you to say something. “Oh, okay. Well, since I’m done, I guess it’s your turn. So, what does Damien Karras like to do? And don’t say ‘pray’.”

“But I do.”

“But it comes with the territory. What do you like to do that you don’t have to do?”

He thinks for a moment. “Well, I read- and not just the bible,” you laugh at the parallel of your words. He stops speaking for a moment like he really has to think about it. Your smile falters a little at the mere idea. “I like movies.”

Your smile reappears and breaks wide across your face. “Aha! See! Damien Karras likes movies. What kind?”

“All kinds.”

You give him a teasing look. “Scary?”

“Okay, so not all kinds.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Well, now you know something I don’t like, so what’s something you don’t like?”

Oh, there’s plenty, but you don’t want to make the conversation too heavy, so you think about it. “Um, I don’t know. I don’t like asparagus. I… oh,” you chuckle. “Speaking of movies I guess, I, uh, don’t really like romantic movies.”

He comes to a full stop and looks at you amazed.

“Is it that surprising?”

“I suppose.”

“Why?”

“You just…you seem like you’d really love happy endings.”

You chuckle. “Not all love stories have happy endings, Father. Look at the bible. Heartbreak abound.”

He catches up with you and you resume your stroll.

“Do you attend church?” He asks suddenly, like maybe he's wanted to the whole time.

“Not regularly, but I get the wild hair sometimes. Why, do you?” You joke and he laughs. Something about making him laugh sparks a warmth in you.

“Well, you’ll have ample opportunity if you get the ‘wild hair’ again.”

You laugh and talk more about nothing in particular as you round up to the bleachers again after a second lap. By now, the sun is up, and you get the idea it’s probably time to head inside.

“I appreciate you sharing your morning with me, Father.”

“Please, Damien. Unless you prefer Father?”

Well. Not a question you were anticipating, nor one you’re keen on answering, Was there a word to describe being attracted to a kind, handsome priest and calling him father may or may not leave you with interesting feelings…

Damien is probably for the best.

“Alright…Damien,” you say. He seems pleased to hear you say his name.

“Well, I suppose we’d both better be off,” he says. “Office hours starting soon. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

"Of course. Same goes for you, you know, if you need something translated.”

You two share smiles and Damien heads back for the dormitories and you go to your office. The box you brought with you still sits on the chipped, wooden desk. You sip on a glass of water you grabbed from the kitchen on your way, and sift through the box one handed. You retrieve your plant and place it carefully on the corner. There’s two empty bookcases that you definitely can’t fill now, but you can decorate it with a handful of books you brought with you. Your fingers caress the cool surface of a picture frame and you retrieve it, only to avert the gaze of the eyes in the photograph. Only for a moment, though, because you see it clearly when you place it on the shelf. It’s your parents, your brother. Anyone with any knowledge of your past would think it’s strange to have on display, but the human mind, and the human spirit, operate in strange ways.

Your things are successfully unpacked and the study still looks barren, even as small as it is. You decide to shake it off for a bit by hooking up your headphones and making your way to the library.

The library is a dreamscape. Rich red carpets, deep wood bookcases, green lamps- the works. You walk gracefully as this kind of space calls for, weaving in and out of aisles, fingering spines and trying not to fog up display case glasses. Finally, you settle on The Medieval Latin Hymn by Ruth Ellis Messenger and settle into an armchair by a window. The sunlight is warm against your skin and you tuck your feet under you, hoping in the back of your mind that no one will notice or care.

By the time you look up again, your journal is filled with notes, and the window behind you is dark. You rub your strained eyes and actually check out the book instead of just putting it back on the shelf. Tonight, it will come home with you and sit safely on your desk until you wake up the next morning, on time, and well rested.

When you come in the next morning, Father Dyer is waiting for you.

“Good morning! I was hoping to catch you before you got too busy. Father Merrin has just come in and-”

“I can speak with him?” you interrupt. Dyer smiles.

“Yes, of course. Right this way. Might I ask, why are you so excited to meet him?”

You blush and shrug as he leads you up a set of grand stairs by the library. “Mostly reputation. I’ve read a lot of his reports from his archaeological digs and find them fascinating. I’ve also listened to recordings of him reading some old texts. I just think he’s a really interesting individual.”

“Well, don’t tell him that or he’ll get very humble on you. Right through here.”

The two of you stop in front of an office door and Dyer gives it a knock. “Come in,” a voice says. Dyer opens the door for you and you peer inside. The study is no bigger than yours but is filled to the brim with all sorts of things- books, figures, artifacts, more books, and things you have no chance of identifying. Merrin looks up from his desk and removes a set of spectacles. At the sight of you, he stands.

“Father Merrin, this is y/f/n y/l/n. They are studying with us for their master’s. Y/n, this is Father Lankester Merrin.”

Father Merrin has come around his desk to greet you and you shake hands. You grin wide.

“Father Merrin, it is an absolute honor to meet you. I’ve always wanted to have the opportunity to speak with you.”

Merrin laughs like he can’t believe it. “Well, I’m flattered. Come, have a seat. Thank you, Joseph.”

“Of course.” Dyer gives you a slight nod before backing out of the study and closing the door. Once you’re seated, Father Merrin looks at your hands.

“What have you got there?”

You check because you’ve honestly forgotten, but you’re clutching the book from last night, along with your bag.

“A book about 13th century Latin hymns. I’ve been annotating it.”

“May I?”

You hand him the book and he turns it over in his hands. “My… yes, I believe I read this when it was first published. That was…oh, some twenty years ago, I think. Yes. Well I must say, it does please me to see another young person joining our ranks, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

He hands the book back to you and you tuck it into your bag. “I’m glad to hear it. Truthfully, it was a positive twist of fate. I came back to Georgetown and they placed me here. Not that I wouldn’t have chosen it, but…”

“Happy coincidence?”

“I was gonna say divine providence,” you laugh, and so does he.

“Did you grow up in the church?”

“I did, yeah. I left for a while, and other than the obvious, I haven’t really…returned, you know?”

He nods. “I understand. Some would say there’s something to be admired about studying something you’re not sure you believe.”

You lose words for a moment. You’d question the audacity of that statement if it weren’t so absolutely spot-correct. He’s smart. As smart as you had expected.

“If you find those people, could you send them my way? I haven’t met them yet.”

“Not your family?”

Your smile falters. “No. They, uh, they passed. Maybe they would’ve approved. Maybe not.”

Merrin nods. “My deepest condolences. I hope you don’t feel that this is an interrogation. I assure you that’s not my aim.”

You find a smile to give him. “I know, and I appreciate it. If you don’t mind, I actually had, well, quite a few questions for you. I read your report on the dig in Kuwait and found it absolutely fascinating…”

And you went on and on and on, questioning him about his research, his time in the church, his home life and his family, and the entire time he was fully transparent, never hesitating, never holding back. You probably could question him for hours if there isn’t a knock on the door behind you.

“Come in,” Merrin says. You turn around and see Father Karras poke his head inside. At first, he doesn’t even see you, just finds Father Merrin and swallows.

“Father…” then, his eyes find you. “Oh, good morning, y/n, Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“No,” you check your watch and see that it’s almost 11. “I should probably actually go do my job.” You stand, and Father Merrin follows suit. “Thank you so much for your time, Father. I really do appreciate it.”

He shakes your hand again. “Of course. My door is always open.”

You give him one last smile before passing Damien at the door. You give him a polite smile and nod, even if the close proximity does something to your insides, but he hardly acknowledges you before the door closes between you.

What the hell? You think. That isn’t like him at all, or at least from the handful of interactions the two of you have had so far.

You let your curiosity get the better of you. You press your ear to the door.

“Father…”

“It’s not unusual, Damien.”

“Forgive me, Father, but it doesn’t do much to reassure me. I don’t think I’m doing enough here.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

“I don’t know.” Damien sighs. He sounds exasperated. “And my mother is getting sick again… how much good can I be doing if I can’t even take care of her?”

You yank your head from the door when someone comes around the corner, and you lower your head and walk to your study, your mind buzzing with the little information you’ve just learned. It’s not much, but Damien Karras is having some struggle of faith, and that’s interesting enough to keep you distracted the rest of the day. Something is bothering him.

And even though you hardly know the man and it sounds as personal as a problem can get, you’re determined to help.

[aita-blorbos]

(Same universe as the aita for kidnappind my friends friend and aita for beating up like 5 people 3 times)

U/killer-kinfe-skills - 13 hours ago

Aita for accidentally getting my friend's room exercised by a priest

Since my last one did so well, I decided to post another. One of my experiences with the group

So I (16 M) have a friend who feels call L (15 F as she takes so many, so anyways her room let's talk about that monster.

Me and a friend who let's call H (16 F) are invited over by L, as soon as we enter her room it's like seeing a cognito-hazard. She has her closet fucking barricaded with a chair, there are dozens of half-drunken water bottles all over her room, a pencil case in the middle of the room, and a beanbag just facing the wall.

Then I see her setup, it's an RGB gaming pc with like 12 more of those fucking bottles behind the screen, and none of them are empty.

Then she has her bed, this single child gets to experience the bliss of a well made king size bed. Under which is tons of those plastic water bottles packs, this girl has killed more fish than fucking commercial fishing.

Now she has a singular window in her room, and you want to know what it shows? DO YOU?! A fucking brickwall. That's all the view that this room gets.

Now onto the worst of it. Her "lamp", I would not call that "thing" a lamp, it's just wires and a light bulb, nothing to house the wires or any buttons and no lampshade, NOTHING!

We somehow get over that and start talking about her setup it's up to date is all I'll say.

We play some weeb ass fighting game called 'Guilty Gear Strive', and if you know me you know I hate weebs. Anyways I pick funny bed guy because he's a bed. And she's some stupid guy like "happy chaos".

Anyways she says some shit like. "Don't feel bad if you lose 20 times, this is your first time playing." So I go mlg gamer and she's gets pissed, so she proposes a best out of 5. And after a very close match I win, and she releases her unbridled gamer rage, and calls me the "gamer word" while she insults my playstyle. A word a small Asian girl can not say.

Oon after while me and L practice the guitar, H calls a pastor to exercise the obvious demon in this cursed room.

Anyways our music teacher comes and is apparently a pastor, and you can not know the fear of seeing a grown 6" man shake with fear from seeing her room. He tells us he can't deal with this and calls for a bishop for later as it's late

Anyways I come back with my newly returned dad like the day after. When we get there we are met with shotgun bishop, he blows open L's door and let's my teacher do it as apparently, the demon is about wrath and he has a shotgun. And her room is full of paper cranes, it looks even more insane.

So while my dad was abandoning me he was a caretaker of a shrine in Japan, and tells us it's a yōkai and not a demon. So they leave to prepare for tomorrow with more equipment.

Anyway I got knocked out because H sneaked here and scared me, so I got a concussion. And wake up later, H tells me I was out for a day.

Finally the exorcism happens with shotgun bishop, my music teacher, and my dad. They bless us and have L wash her face in a mixture holy water and some temple water, after exercising her room. To test I insult her skills in guilty gear. And she fucking agrees.

She trys to tell me it's fake, but if I did that 3 days ago she would have called me every slur known to man. She then tells me she uses 4chan so I tell her the obvious. "L. 4chan is the demon"

So am I the asshole reddit?