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rrking · 9 months ago

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Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

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lunamoonbby · 10 days ago

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Cult!141 x Fem!Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT MDNI

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Dark Content, Manipulation, allusions to past abuse very brief not in depth, female reader, swearing, pregnancy, birth, poly relationships, smut, Cult AU, the use of lord in terms to worship, Price being referred to as Father

If you or a loved one is experiencing abuse, know that there is help, and please help anyone that you know to help them escape from that abuse.

⭐️Author's Note: The religion that the villagers follow is not defined, but it is NOT associated with Christianity, Judaism, Islam, or any other type of religion there is⭐️

Chapter 5: The Butcher

After y/n left, John phoned the tavern "hello this is Kyle speaking. How may I help you?" Kyle answered the phone. "Did you deal with the person who yelled at our darling?" John looking trought the window. "Yes, we're holding him in our basement, waiting for your instructions, anyways how was morning prayers with y/n?" John smiles, "it went really well she brought four wild flowers as an offering today, I told her that love will find her, silly little girl didn't even ask who or what we follow and give praise too, she's just the perfect devoted follower. She told me that she want to use your taverns kitchen to make a brisket pot pie, please let her use that kitchen, and don't worry she'll meet Simon too, cause I plan on buying the nicest brisket he has in the market and that he's welcomed in for our little feast that birdy is doing for us." Kyle loving the sound of that idea, "I'll be sure to tell Johnny about tonight's supper. We'll supply the rest of the ingredients." "Perfect. I'll see you and Johnny tonight, bye." Price hangs up the phone.

Price lockes up the church and makes his way towards Simon's Butcher Shop. "Simon, good morning." Price enters the butcher shop. "Jonathan, I wasn't expecting to see you until later on tonight. Good morning." Simon puts down his meat cleaver and turns around, taking off his gloves, putting them in the sink, and washing his hands, "what can I do for you, my friend?" "I would like the best premium brisket you have to offer." Price said, looking at his display case. "Why would you need that you don't cook and you definitely don't to errands for Johnny and Kyle." Simon said while preparing the brisket to be packaged. John smiled, "you're right but there is this new little birdy in town she ran away from her abusive ex, and well she wants to make a brisket pot pie as a thank you and you're invited, I expect you to show up to Johnny and Kyle's tavern for this supper.

Simon hummed, "I'll be there." Simon handing John the brisket. John smiled, "Great, I'll see you tonight then." John left the butcher shop to go to the tavern to drop off the brisket. Simon going back to work, he hears his bells jingle and two people come in, one he's seen before, and the other a new face, a woman, must be the girl john talked about. The first customer got their order and they seemed to recognize who this new face is, "if you're expecting a hand-out from this shop then you better leave and don't come back until you have money." The customer said. "OI! don't tell me how to run my damn shop, the price is $100." A mask man spoke up. "But I dont have that kind of money, and you're charging $50 more than the actual price!" Exclaimed the customer. "If you can't buy it, then come back when you have the money for it." Simon said when he already packaged up the meat, "now what can I do for you, Lovie?" "I just needed directions to get to the Tavern Inn." Y/n said, looking down at her hands. "It's three buildings down from the Tavern Restaurant." "Ah, thank you, kind sir." Y/n leave the butcher shop to head back to the Inn, but before she does, she'll be making a quick visit to the tavern restaurant to ask Johnny and Kyle if she could use their kitchen.

"I'm just glad that she didn't ask for any freebies cause she got freebies at the tavern, and some guy spoke up about it, and he ended up paying for her drink." The customer said. Simon stalking towards the customer, "Is that so?" "Ye-" Simon knocks out the customer, ties them up, and draggs them to his basement. "Serves you right for yelling at my lovie and telling me how to run my shop." Simon looked at the unconscious customer and then left the basement to head back to the shop.

"Johnny, Kyle?" Y/n called out "bonnie!-" Johnny appeared. "AH, you scared me." Y/n clutching her chest looking at Johnny "ah sorry bonnie Lass didn't mean to. What can I do for ya?" Johnny said, wiping down the counters, "I would like to borrow your kitchen. I want to make you, Kyle, and Father Price a brisket pot pie as a thank you for helping me out." Y/n fiddling with her fingers. "Of course you can, finally something other than my own cooking or Kyle's." Johnny looked happy since he'll taste his bonnies cooking. "Great, thank you. I'll be back later on. I want to rest up before I start cooking." "Of course, see you later." Johnny waving goodbye.

Taglist is open comment if you would like to be added

@yourloverslost @tabbslouuformer @angelrissa @freefallingup13 @readingcatinacorner @sylvanasthebansheequeen @casualunknownrunaway @thatpersonnamedrook @rip-cod-brainrot @hoodiepandaninja16 @spacecrawllerr

#simon x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x y/n #john price x reader #price x reader #john price x you #kyle garrick x y/n #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz x reader #soap x y/n #soap x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #poly!141 #cult!141

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raayllum · 9 months ago

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We don't appreciate Soren's batshit evolving view of Rayla (and Rayllum enough) tbh.

Think about it: you're Soren. Your dad and sister tell you the princes you were sworn to protect got kidnapped by a Moonshadow elf (some of whom you just fought, killed, and watched your fellow crownguard be killed by). You never met her and never saw the encounter in the dungeons that Claudia did, so you have no reason to doubt this. Then your dad gives you a mission that curdles your stomach and you find yourself more than half hoping that elf has just killed the boys because that means you don't have to dirty your hands and have plausible deniability of your own and your dad's involvement in all of this.

Then you find the Moonshadow elf and she's young. Younger than you. Asleep; it feels wrong. But then it's a trick and she's got the momentary upper hand! She's talented. She's sarcastic(?) and pretty. She's dead meat—

Then Callum runs in, in front of your raised sword, and defends her. He says she's his friend. He says she's a good elf. (How can that be possible?) He says you have to learn to put aside your differences. Your brain is breaking. You assume nothing will change in the morning. And then the weirdest thing is that the elf has the same reaction to your sister and Callum flirting as you do, a big ugh. What's up with that?

You speculate about Moonshadow madness and lie about the king, and the elf gives you an Intense Look that, unfortunately, is not because she's hot and talented, but because she's suspicious. She looks after Ezran like he's her own little brother. When she tricks you guys, again, it's just her on the ground and the princes safely on the stupid moon bird.

Then you don't see her again until it's raining, and she's shown up seemingly of nowhere to save this dumb monstrous dragon. She can't cut the chains and she's outnumbered. An easy prize. Claudia tells you not to kill her because she might be useful. You haven't really made up your mind about it when—

Callum is there in the rain, following after her like a good loyal knight of his own. Callum does dark magic. You wonder if this was the plan all along or not, since the elf doesn't look happy about it. In her your periphery you see her run to him anyway once the dragon is freed. Then it smashes you into the rocks, and everything gets fuzzy.

You don't see her again until at least a week and a half later at the Storm Spire. Ezran calls for both of them (are they always a package deal) and they come running. They exchange wary looks as you give explanations. You can hear their voices, dimly, in the queen's antechamber while you play a game of chase with Ezran and the Dragon Prince. Callum looks to her when you ask to speak and she gives you an eye-roll of permission. Her name is Rayla. She thinks you're more than just a big dump lump (compliment). And maybe you wonder if she's a little more than a friend to Callum as she takes his hand and squeezes, watching Ezran fly off into the night. Maybe you don't.

But they're not holding hands when you find them the next morning so it's fine to interrupt, and you don't know for sure they're a thing until everything is said and done—until you learn that not only is Callum more than over your sister, he flung himself off the top of that tall tall mountain to catch Rayla without even knowing the spell would work.

It's intense and overwhelming to the point you might worry about it if she didn't also look at him like he hung the stars, holding hands in front of the Dragon Queen—on the way back home to Katolis. Ezran gives you pieces of whatever Callum's told him, that Rayla needs a new home. That she got banished.

Every time you're with her at the castle it's a group activity, like sparring or dinner. She doesn't open up easily, even if she's softer—more awkward. You learn that her people like dancing and not much else. Ez and Callum are both very protective of her, Callum especially. She sleeps in a lot. She seems lost. You come along to the Moon Nexus because your king is going, and when Rayla finally asks to talk with you one-on-one, it's because she's chasing answers about your father, and an elf you think she might consider family.

You help Callum and Allen rebuild the Moon Nexus. You don't know what it's for till she's under the water (you don't know that she's scared of water) and Callum is kneeling at the shoreline like he's going to lose his mind with every second that she doesn't surface. The weird Moon lady says your mind will be shattered, that you can be stuck there between life and death forever. Ezran helps Callum dive beneath the waves anyway. It's one of the longest hours of your life, waiting there—because Rayla was brave enough to do what you couldn't, in looking after the boys, and you still have so much to make up for with Callum (plus, Opeli will kill you if you don't come back with the crown prince).

Finally, as the sky begins ever so slightly to lighten, you help drag them out of the water. Callum embraces her—"I couldn't lose you"—like he's never going to let go. Rayla hugs him back just as tight before she kisses him sweetly. You think you'll have to try and entertain Ez tomorrow to give them some privacy, a bit, for Callum's birthday tomorrow.

Rayla is gone in the morning. You don't even hear about what happened from him; Ezran tells you, eyes rimmed in red. Gone without a trace in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter and promises of love behind.

Something bristles inside you; at least your mother had the decency to say goodbye.

Callum is miserable on the way back to Katolis. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He lasts three weeks before he gets angry, and you never knew his temper could be that bad. He goes off to Xadia to search guided by his wings, and brought back by the cold every few weeks or so, continually empty handed. Opeli grounds him (literally); his mood worsens as snow thickens.

You take the brunt of his anger without complaint, because you is also smirking and good with a sword and worried about Viren, and because Callum took the brunt of your projection and resentment and jealousy for years. You can handle a few months.

It is not just a few months. Callum gets worse, and then, slowly, after the first anniversary of her being gone, he gets better. It means less shouting, but also less of him—he spends more hours locked away in your father's old study, throwing more and more of himself into magic. You remind yourself that it's okay. It's just primal magic.

(Surely, Callum got rid of your father's old dark magic books. Why would he keep them?)

Another year passes. You're upset at Rayla for leaving, for how much she upset both the boys, for how miserable Callum has been. At the same time, you want her to return, not only for their happiness, but for your peace of mind, because if she does, it'll either be with her mission successful and your family vanquished for good, or because there was nothing to find. She might even have information about Claudia.

Then she does show up, and Callum can barely look at her. He brings the mirror to the Storm Spire. When he falls, Rayla catches him. When he retreats to the Pinnacle, she follows, and you interrupt. You protest in the Drakewood, because your father told you that you had to carry burdens alone and that never did anyone good, and Callum lays down distance that feels strange and exclusionary. When Rayla is standoffish amongst the trees, you critique her—over your younger brother figure, but also over the dragon. You don't know how she's become so changed (how she could leave the same way your mother did).

The next time you see her, she's radiantly happy you're alive and gone just as quickly. Then Callum pulls her from the rubble after one heart wrenching moment, because Callum when she was just gone was rough enough, but a Callum when she's dead is awful to imagine, and—

You watch him forgive her in every way that matters. He stays with her at the castle even as you go off with Ezran and Corvus to do important dragon stuff, and holds her hand as they climb out of the water. He gets madder than you've ever seen him when Finnegrin torments her. You watch him do the impossible first hand to save her life.

You watch him offer to get out of the water, to delay the mission, when she's too scared to. (You didn't even know she was scared of water.) You embrace both of them when everything is said and done, once Callum has nearly fallen over in his haste to just hold her hand.

You still, at the end of the day, don't know Rayla that well—bits and pieces to construct a fragmented but real view of someone who's bold and beautiful and brave and kind, but snarky and judgemental and prone to leaving, too. Balanced, even if it's not deep.

But Callum's love for her? It's as deep as the ocean, and that's kinda what matters most.

#sorayla #katolis boys #this is my roman empire #text post #mine #this got away from me but listen #soren's last interaction with rayla loosely being callum (awkwardly) turning her down #immediately like 2.5 days Max later being #callum weeping and hugging her and probably treating her exactly how he does in 5x01 #IMMEDIATELY post 4x09 is. too funny to pass up #soren's emotional whiplash im a believer

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vonev · 1 year ago

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The Strings Of Webs (and the ones you’ve woven)

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Chapter 1: The Beginning Of Something New (and something unknown)

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, angst, hurt/comfort.

Summary: So—just imagine, one day you’re sitting in your home, enjoying your day off of the usual stressful work you had, only for a mysterious asshole to appear and snatch you away from your home, your safe space.

Not only that, but he decided to put you in his sick version of a jail and start demeaning your entire existence in front of other strangers that, for some reason, are replicas of each other. Something something Spider-men and the Spider Society, the entire safety and security of the multiverse on your hands, and that you were the cause of everyone’s downfall.

Yeah, that’s your life now.

Part I Part II

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“—be wary of glitches around you, contact your local hospital immediately if you or your family encounter symptoms or signs of glitching—“

“—whoever decided we should allow kids to have free lunches in school doesn’t realize that the school needs to be fed too! This is why—“

“—and I said, boom! Spider-man, I caught you red-handed!”

“Spider-man spotted running around the city terrorizing civilians with whipped cream, but witnesses said it was a hoax by some random troll—“

“—on tonight’s news of Daily Bugle, Spider-man has been found dead—“

You halted.

The notion of mindlessly clicking next on the different channels paused when you heard the key words, ‘Spider-man’ and ‘found dead’.

To say you were shocked was an understatement of the century, Spider-man out of all the people in the entire universe was declared deceased should not simply gloss over everyone’s mind.

Your jaw hung open, the words still dancing in your mind like lovers on a weekend honeymoon trip, holding onto each other yet under the surface, something else was brewing.

Fuck.

You wanted to seek out Spider-man, so how are you supposed to, now, if he is dead?

You gritted your teeth out of pure frustration, you had hoped you’d catch him in his act of swinging around your part of the city, just being the friendly neighborhood Spider-man as he always usually does.

You are desperate for an answer to a question, nervously biting down on the skin around your nail as you stood up and paced around your living room for a solution.

Bring him back from the dead? No.

Frankenstein him and pray he would have a sliver of his memory left? No.

Pray? No, God never answers, anyway.

You scratched the itchy spot where the spider bit you earlier, pondering over the chances of you being able to summon his spirit through a summoning ritual in the book called ‘Satanism for beginners: dummies edition’ you found at a random thrift shop earlier.

You weren’t in a rush per se, but then again, Spider-man not being alive meant you would never be able to satiate your raging curiosity.

You shrugged, and mourned for Spider-man in your special little way: making yourself a bomb ass dinner and popping a brand new champagne bottle in his honor, as a salute to his service and him as a whole.

After all, Spider-man would’ve wanted this. You doubt he would want people to gather around and shed tears on his grave rather than share happy encounters together with each other in his memories.

You were only assuming, but he did seem like a sweet kid from the handful of run-ins you had with him.

Letting out a deep sigh, you let your feet carry you to your kitchen, rummaging through the fridge in search of the barely expired package of steak shoved into the far back. You inspected the meat sitting inside the packaging, noting how it was starting to turn a grey-greenish hue. You debated on even cooking it and risking your health, but your stomach grumbled the moment you did and you decided against the better of it and made the meal anyway.

You let the well-seasoned steak sit in the pan with melted butter and rosemary, casually basking it in melted butter once in a while with a spoon with the garlic clove sitting on the side, your other hand holding a glass of champagne from the bottle you popped, taking leisure sips in-between your cooking.

Despite its flaws, the smell of the steak was heavenly.

You give yourself a pat on the back and proceed to nicely decorate your plate with the cut-up steak, bringing it to the living room along with the bottle of champagne for more of it later.

“—Spider-man’s identity has been revealed upon his death—“

On the screen, it showed a picture of a promising, rather young looking man, with messy blonde streaks of hair adorning his face and a nice smile with a glint of joy in his eyes.

He looked like he could’ve been anyone’s kid, and that thought saddened you. You decided to switch to Netflix and brought the blanket over your lap as you leisurely browse the catalogue for what seemed like eternity, your steak slowly going cold.

“Holy fuck, nothing at all.”

You settled for watching a 4-hour video essay on YouTube instead, slowly munching your steak away and huddled up in your comfy blanket.

As if the universe had it out for you, a bright orange glow suddenly took over your tiny apartment space in mere seconds, you snapped your head toward the source and immediately shot an arm up to cover your eyes, the lights were borderline blinding. You tried to sneak glances toward what could’ve caused the commotion, and your heart almost popped out of your chest at the sight of a random portal-looking hole in the middle of your apartment.

And out came the hole was possibly one of the biggest men you’ve seen, standing at a staggering 6 '8 stature you would think he had been an otherworldly entity. You could’ve sworn you saw him tore through the fabric of space and time with what seemed to be blades built into his elbow.

And his suit…

He looked like a Spider-man, with the obvious spider symbol embedded into the front of his skin-tight suit. He was a tall wall of pure muscles, looking nothing like the Spider-man your city has grown to know and love, but how could he be Spider-man—

—if Spider-man is dead?

You looked into his gaze, a fit of pure rage, disdain and disgust could be felt from where you assumed would be his eyes. After all, they say eyes are the windows to one’s soul. His gaze held onto yours as he slowly approached where you sat, you felt a shiver down your spine that spoke to your soul. And it wasn’t as though he had a face to gauge his emotions by—his posture and the big, intimidating steps he took said it all.

This was terrifying, he was terrifying.

Your breath hitched once he got close enough to see the hair standing at the back of your neck like a frightened cat.

Was it hot in here, or was it just you? Or maybe him?

You had no clue, but you could feel yourself starting to sweat as though you had just run a marathon, and your senses were on high alert with how close the man was to you, your flight or fight alarm blaring like a thousand horns in your head.

He was not good news.

But you couldn’t move.

You felt yourself frozen up, and you wish you had been better at responding because you could’ve, and are probably about to be murdered. You took a gulp of breath, suddenly the feeling of your saliva going down your throat felt more vivid than ever in the small confined space of you and him.

You could see the way he scrunched up his nose with the moving wrinkles of his mask, pulling back from staring you down.

He diverted his attention to the watch on his wrist, fiddling with it before a hologram appeared in mid-air like some sort of Sci-Fi freak show, and a small lady appeared on the screen.

“What is it you want now, Miguel?” She groaned, seemingly annoyed at his advance of calling her out to do whatever he wanted at the time.

“Don’t give me that attitude, Lyla, pull out the files from yesterday,” he wasted no time biting back at her, almost as though he would start a fight with her right then and there if he wanted to.

From where you sat, with your legs tightly close to your chest and your blanket now on the floor, you still held dear to the plate of steak you were enjoying half a minute ago before everything conspired, your grip like a super-glue on the fork you held. You noted the rather adorable appearance of the girl, Lyla, was it?

She had a full body fur coat on with what you were certain was a pair of large, heart shaped glasses sitting on her tiny nose bridge.

“Nuh-uh,” she quipped, staring at her nails like she was bored of what Miguel had to say.

“Lyla.”

“Nope.”

“I swear to God—“

“Good luck with that, Miguel.”

You found it comical how they went back and forth with each other, you couldn’t tell if Miguel was joining in on the fun or he had been genuinely annoyed—and for all you know (and for what you couldn’t) he seemed to lean in on the latter. To be fair, he didn’t strike you as the type to bring fun into the party with what he had shown so far.

“Lyla, could you please show me the files from yesterday,” he paused for a few seconds, as if the next words out of his mouth hurt him physically to say out loud, “with a cherry on top.”

Lyla seemed satisfied with that, you could hear her giggle. “Already on it,” and swiped her hand across the air as multiple screens appeared, some with more content than the others, but amongst all the mumbo-jumbo of information you saw one thing that struck curiosity further into you—

—it was a profile of your face, and from what you saw, you looked absolutely amazing in the picture.

You let out a sigh of relief, at least they had the decency to pick a nice picture of you.

At least when you die, you’ll die looking pretty.

Miguel snapped his head to you when he heard your sigh, the pretend-eyes on his mask narrowed to a dangerous slit.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this, criminal.”

You don’t know what you were supposed to feel with the way he bit his words at you, hissing, almost. But you felt quite offended—and you had a backbone unlike anyone else that would’ve been in your situation.

“You—you did not just threaten me,” You fought his gaze with the determination and anger in yours, and for a flash of a second, you saw the way his eyes widened—almost as though he was surprised you would rebut him. “You come into my home, ruin my nice dinner, and now you act like I just annihilated your entire family!”

You had placed your dinner and glass of champagne onto the IKEA coffee table in front of you, choosing to cross your arms over your chest as you scoffed in his direction, staring him down (or up?) like a disappointed parent at a teacher-parent meeting conference.

His lips pulled back in a snarl, and if he hadn’t had any ounce of self-restraint; he would’ve been pouncing on you with force you never even knew were possible. But to him, you only sound like a child whining about not getting their favorite toy—which greatly amused him, considering what you have done.

“Funny coming from someone who terrorized multiple dimensions,” he scoffed, inching his face closer to yours by towering his massive figure over you, an act of intimidation meant to catch you off-guard and make you fear him.

But what he didn't know was that you worked at Starbucks—so nothing, and you mean nothing could scare you like the ladies did when they’re on their fifth run of Starbucks of the day, irritated from their job and demanding custom drinks that made you cry on your lunch break. You merely glanced at him, your face stoic and devoid of any signs of fear.

“Listen here, big guy,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, caught off guard by how unexpectedly soft the fabric of his suit was—you could vividly feel the tensed muscles beneath them. “You don’t get to strut into my home via some strange portal and tell me what I did wrong, and for your information, you sound like a massive idiot going on about your ‘multidimensional threat’ bullcrap.”

By the end of your rant, he had already concluded that you were going to be a pain in his ass; and for that, he reached his arm out to grab the wrist you pointed at him with, squeezing it, serving as a silent threat.

The kind that wouldn’t end well if you don’t listen.

And to his dismay, you showed no signs of discomfort, only an increased amount of annoyance he could spot in your eyes as you tried to snatch your wrist away from his steel grip but ultimately failed.

“Listen here, cariño,” he said, sarcasm dripping off of him like honey. “You don’t get to dictate who’s in control after all that you’ve done,” his hold on your wrist now tightened tenfold, and he relished in the discomfort he could see when your face contorted, hearing your hiss of pain.

“Dickhead,” you grumbled underneath your breath, the frustration, annoyance and anger boiling in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him—you held back your tongue from hurling more insults his way. And to your dismay, he caught what slipped between your lips, his face getting closer than ever and you could feel the fan of his breath on the tip of your nose.

“Wanna repeat that?”

“I said—“ you prepared yourself for an attack, a foot to his abdomen would do it, just one quick move and he would be out of your hair as you flee from the perpetrator. “Fucking,” …anytime now—

—“Dickhead!”

In an instant, your foot connected with his abdomen, and you kicked. The next few seconds were a blur—his eyes widening at the feeling of your foot on his torso and the actual impact it had. You were frightened at the way he was pushed off of you and into the wall behind him, the strength of your kick causing the wall to give in from the sudden pressure. You could’ve sworn you saw the massive dent in the walls when he slid down—but you wasted zero milliseconds pondering any thoughts you may have.

As he slowly gathered his senses, you were already out of the apartment, bolting.

The adrenaline started to kick in as you practically ran for your life like you’ve never had before—that was because you didn’t have to until now.

You didn’t have to turn around to hear how Miguel had busted through your apartment window, the way the ground shook (or was it just you?) as you felt the weight of his limbs and how they carried him fast.

He was approaching.

And God, for once in your life did you wish you dead.

You would figure out how to explain to your landlord about the broken window and crumbled walls later—for now, survive.

But somehow, you outran him—choosing to swerve your way past the innocent bystanders in a zigzag manner as you yelled ‘sorry’ and ‘forgive me’, if you had learn anything from watching animal documentaries, it was to escape predators by confusing it thus your zigzag marathon.

You were frantically praying to something out there that your strategy was working, because if you paid attention, you would feel the way he was borderline breathing down your neck, toying with you. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears, edging the thin thread of going deaf with how loud it was.

The people you rushed past all collectively gasped and ogled, some even cheered, and you could just tell he was on your tail.

That’s no good.

Your eyes noted the sight of an entry to an alleyway, it was your only chance to survive his borderline murderous attempt at capturing you as you skillfully took a swift turn into the alleyway, your back immediately met the wall as you tried to calm your haggard breaths—you did not want to be spotted by him.

A flash of blue and red rushed past the corridor where you hid, and after a few seconds of no signs of activity of him being near you—you let out a small sigh, one that you had been holding on to dear life.

If you had known any better, you would’ve spotted the sight of his feet above you at the top of the building, crouched as he watched your every move—the way your body suggested your relaxed state and how you strut deeper into the alleyway; big mistake, in his humble opinion.

With the thought in mind that you had effectively avoided Miguel, you slowly caught your breath, your chest heaving as you wiped away the huge amount of sweat that gathered on your forehead. You started chuckling, in your adrenaline high, you weren’t able to hear the way Miguel stealthily fell on a balcony closer to you, how he dropped behind you without as much as a ‘thud’ coming from his soft landing.

To you, you just had the chase of your life—and to your utter surprise, you managed to swerve off a man of a stature and agility like his; it was enough to warren yourself a pat on the back as you felt a smile tug at your lips.

“Having fun?”

Shit. Shit. Double shit.

You were a goner.

Your senses were off the charts now, tingling like a spider crawling all over the back of your neck, sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine. You could smell him, that or your senses were starting to betray you. For a flash of a second what felt like claws tugged at your ankle, causing you to tumble over onto your stomach as you let out a loud yelp in pain.

He had caught up to you, to your unfortunate self, evident by the weight of his foot pressed against the small of your back, applying an immense amount of pressure that caused you to cry out in pain.

“Fucking—how?!” You shouted, your throat hoarse from all the yelling and screaming activities you had been conducting, your high slowly wearing off as your mind instantly jumped into a new stage of emotions you’ve never truly felt before: the utter fear that sent chills down your very core, the burning fire running amok in your nerves, and the loud banging headache you felt when you were knocked down.

“You let your guards down,” Miguel found utmost amusement in the way you squirm underneath his foot, your arms struggling to catch a hold onto something, anything. To him, it was just an ordinary chase on the daily he would frequently experience, running off of the high that it gave him as he bent over to look into your gaze; filled with so much hatred and disdain—and all for him.

It excited him, almost.

But to you, having led the most normal life ever of an average person, being chased by a multidimensional superhero who could traverse the universe within a flick of his wrist was never part of your scheduled programs. And at this moment, you had no idea what to believe in anymore.

The universe was playing a cruel joke on you, and they are laughing.

You caught his gaze and could note the way his pretend-eyes glistened with a bundle of emotions: rage, annoyance, a murderous intent, and excitement. All seething and hissing underneath that stupid mask of his. If he was honest to himself, the situation was the most fun he had in a while.

“Next time,” as he got closer to you, his voice turned into a mere whisper, “Try not breathing so hard, cariño.”

With what you would assume was your death approaching in the figure of a bear for a man—his mask dissipated within an instance in pixels, his face now bare to you as he only got closer and closer, your eyes blown wide open with fear and the pace of your breathing picking back up into a brutal pace as anxiety swelled in your chest.

He had lifted his foot off of your back only to engulf you in his pair of strong, tree trunks for arms. You watched the way his jaw hung open, the light bounced off his fangs, the glint almost blinding you as you merely laid there, spent and mentally exhausted in his arms.

This was it.

This was how you would die.

In a game of predator and prey—and you were the prey that thought they got away.

And for the last few seconds of what you assumed to be the end of your life—you struggled against his hold, yet no attempts of yours were successful at feigning him off of you. He had the audacity to chuckle at your effort, like they meant nothing to him.

Because they didn’t.

To him, you were just an average, unfortunate prey becoming the meal he would treat himself to every night as a reward for his hard work having slaughtered you for his satiations; that being hunger and self-fulfillment.

And because he eyed you like one.

It was hard to miss the red glow in his iris, dominating the ring with his pupils blown out, looking like a crazed man with an addiction—and he had found his drug.

“Relax, you’re only making it harder for yourself.”

He brushed aside your hair, exposing the vulnerable spot of your neck—you could feel the way the tip of his fangs teased the bare skin on the back of where your neck and shoulder connected in a junction, taking his sweet time as his fingers traced up the sides of your arms, you could feel the bruises starting to blossom on your skin in response to his iron-like grip.

And before you knew it, he sunk his fangs into you, breaking your skin as you could only struggle even more so in his hold in pathetic attempts at escaping.

It burnt.

Oh God it burnt so fucking bad.

If you had thought your nerves were on fire before, they were quite literally bathing in a pool of lava by now. The venom has slowly integrated itself into your blood flow, inviting itself in like that annoying neighbor’s kid you never liked barging into your home.

You felt downright violated.

But you were helpless.

And for what felt like the last moment of your life, you could only sob, feeling the bubble of tears bursting and swimming down your reddened yet ghastly-looking cheeks like fish in the ocean. Consciousness slowly started to seep away like grasping at sands—little by little, they would be gone. Your vision gradually declined on you every second.

And along was what little dignity you had left as you slumped in Miguel’s arms, lifeless.

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #angst #hurt/comfort #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #spiderman

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aylacavebear · 2 months ago

Text

The Curse That Changed Your Life - Part 2 Chapter 6

With the witch taken care of, your hopes of being human gone, and dealing with sensations and emotions you hadn't before, life didn't seem like it was going to get much better. How would he look at you in the morning after what you'd said to him? What would you do after this? What would the next month hold, and how much like a cat were you? There were far too many questions you didn't have answers to and didn't want to ask. Would you find any answers in the month to come? Only time would tell.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 4774

Warnings: Charlie being a good friend, Dealing with cycle, reader being hard on herself, Fluff, Dean being a Sweetheart. Not really much for this one.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6

Over the next couple of days, Charlie visited you often, bringing you meals which mostly consisted of red meat or chicken. She did include some of that healthy stuff that you didn’t like very much but ate it anyway. At least she would let you have some sweets, although not much. Charlie also made sure to bring you meds to keep the pain at a dull roar with the help of the heating pad. Eileen didn’t visit often, knowing that there was a possibility that you might smell Sam on her, so she kept her distance.

On day three, you got a text from Dean, which surprised you, but it made you smile a tiny bit.

“Hey Sweetheart, feeling any better?”

“Still crampy, and the pills Charlie gives me make me sleepy. I’m craving bacon right now, but Charlie says it’s not a meal.”

“I’ll cook some up for you, make her take it to you.”

You had to chuckle at that, and you couldn’t help the smile his words brought. At least he was talking to you, even if it was through texts.

“You made my mouth water. Let me know if she caves. I’m really hungry now.”

“I will. She’ll cave, promise.”

You pictured him smirking, sitting in the library or kitchen, leaning his arms on the table as he texted you. The heating pad on your abdomen clicked off, as it tended to do after a couple of hours or if it got to the temperature. Sighing, you flipped it over and turned it back on, glancing down at your phone.

Why does it hurt when I talk to him, or think about him?

It was a question you’d been wondering about for longer than your cycle, and the fog of the first day hadn’t helped. The meds weren’t helping either.

“Can we talk, after you cook?”

You sent the text before you could decide against it.

“Sure.”

For a minute, you just stared at his response, then turned your phone off, forgetting what you’d asked about the bacon. At the moment, your thoughts were of Dean and how things had gone between the two of you over the last couple of months since that night at the club. It had been a rollercoaster for sure, and you weren’t surprised you felt depressed. The downside of thinking about it all, the cramps only got worse. You hated how they were tied to your emotional state since the curse.

Within about thirty minutes, there was a very annoyed-looking Charlie standing in your doorway with a plate full of bacon, probably an entire package worth. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you couldn’t help but chuckle, almost laugh at her expression.

“I am not happy about this. Bacon is not a meal,” she told you, fairly annoyed as she sat down on the bed next to you, holding the plate out of your reach.

“Come on, I was craving it,” you begged, attempting to reach for the plate, even though you knew with how your cramps were, there was no way you’d get it. You were just hoping that, looking as pitiful as you did, she’d just give in.

Charlie rolled her eyes before handing over the plate, groaning, “You’re lucky I find you cute when you pout, and that you’re family.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” you replied with a mouthful of bacon, purring again at the way it made every tastebud melt into bliss.

“You’re welcome,” she half whined, half smiled, seeing how happy you were, even if it was due to the bacon.

Dean was indeed a fantastic cook. You’d told him that before, but there was something different with the food during this cycle, and you weren’t quite able to put your finger on what. Charlie couldn’t sit there and watch you eat nothing but bacon, so she went back out, to where you weren’t sure.

Halfway through the plate, you picked up your phone after licking your fingers clean and sent a thank-you text to Dean. You’d finally managed to find a mostly comfortable position, half laying on your side and half propped up on the several pillows that were on the bed. With your phone on the bed next to your plate, and the heating pad on your abdomen, you began relaxing.

“Glad you enjoyed it. Charlie put up a good argument, but, I won.”

You giggled, picturing that winning smirk on him as he typed that. “You made my night.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

For a moment, you just stared at his question, wondering if it was even worth bringing up during your cycle.

“I wish we could talk face to face.”

“I’d suggest a video call, but Charlie said this is the only way I’m allowed to talk to you.”

A pout found its way to your lips, and you quickly made it go away with another bite of bacon. “Should I still keep my distance, after my cycle?” It was the best way to ask what had been running through your mind, but you weren’t prepared for his answer.

“Things will be different after your cycle. You’ll see. I’m not supposed to tell you anything, though. Charlie swore me to secrecy.”

“Not fair…” you grumbled out loud, pouting again. Stupid hormones.

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to wait, then. I’m bored, though, and I don’t want to watch another movie or sleep. I know Charlie is gonna bring me more meds soon, and I’m gonna fall asleep. I hate sleeping so much.”

“You need the sleep. I’m glad the meds are helping. It just means you’ll feel better after your cycle is over.”

Too bad there's no inflection on tone in text. I wonder why I’m not allowed to see him.

“Fine. I hate being treated like a five-year-old, or like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Everyone cares about you. You’re family now. Let us take care of you. We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t care.”

You grumbled a little at that and tried really hard not to let it bother you, but in a way, it did. It was all hormone issues, though. If it had been any other time, you would have understood what he meant.

“Thanks again for the bacon. I guess we can always chat again sometime.”

“Get some rest, Sweetheart.”

After that last text from him, you turned your phone off and then went back to the bacon, which was nearly gone now. The cramps were getting stronger again, making you shift positions, as that one was no longer comfortable. But now, nothing was comfortable. There were four slices left on the plate, but you couldn’t eat with how the cramps were getting, so you pushed it to the far side of the bed. Just when you were about to lay down all the way to curl into a ball, Charlie showed up, meds in hand, with more water. You quickly took the pills, squirming slightly in pain as you tried to lie down on your side. Charlie knew there was nothing she could do to help, so she just tucked the blankets around you.

You whimpered as the cramps sent waves of sharp pains from your abdomen up and down your body, feeling as though they hit every nerve and muscle along the way. Tears slipped from your eyes of their own accord as your body shook a little.

For some reason, the meds began working faster than you thought they should, but that was when you realized Cas was in your room, his first two fingers on your forehead, and a light warmth spread through your body. Then, everything went dark.

—--------------

When you woke up, you had no idea what time it was or what day it was, but you did notice the cramps were gone, and your brain didn’t feel so foggy. The heating pad was on the opposite side of the bed, and you were under the blankets. Turning toward the nightstand, you found your phone.

I slept for two days?

You set your phone back down and turned on the light, groaning as you sat up. Your entire body was sore, and you desperately wanted a shower. Grabbing the set of clothes off the desk, you forced your body to the bathroom. It wasn’t nearly as bad or as sore as last time, but every muscle still hurt.

The shower helped, but you didn’t want to crawl back into that bed. As you made your way back over to the bed, you grabbed your phone, choosing to sit on the side of the bed that had been left entirely untouched. Then, texted Charlie. Although, you were surprised that she hadn’t shown up at your room yet.

“I’m up and showered, but I don’t want to walk to my room alone.”

It was after ten, so you figured she and the others were or at least had to be awake. Just as you were about to wonder if they were even home, your phone went off.

“Be right there.”

You smiled a little and turned your phone off, trying to remember everything that had happened over the last almost week. Charlie had said so much to you, but half of it was still lost in the fog that was now gone. Your cycle was the one main thing you hated the most since the curse.

“Hey. Feeling better?” Charlie asked, popping into the room.

“Mostly. I don’t remember a whole lot, though,” you answered, looking up at her.

“Well, you look better at least. I kept you mostly drugged for the pain, but Cas had to put you to sleep two days ago. The meds stopped working,” she explained, sitting next to you.

The day I talked to Dean…

“I’m blaming it on eating bacon as a meal with nothing else with it. Nothing else was different that I can think of,” she added.

“I, uh, I talked to Dean, through text. I hadn’t done that before then,” you told her, quietly, almost feeling guilty for it.

“That explains a lot. Okay,” she said as if all the pieces clicked into place for her, but you were still mostly clueless. “I’ll walk with you back to your room if you want. Then me and Eileen will take care of the stuff in here.”

“I kinda was hoping to move around a little more. I feel sore, mostly from being in bed for as long as I was,” you explained, but also felt almost anxious about being around all of them again.

“We can do that,” she told you with that sunshine smile she always seemed to have. Then she sent a quick text to someone before standing up, waiting for you.

You gave her a small smile, getting yourself up. The walk out to the library was rough and slow going, but Charlie never left your side. She even let you lean on her a few times when the wall wasn’t enough. You missed being able to pace and wander when you had your cycles, but here, that was a little impossible.

By the time you reached the war room, your muscles didn’t feel nearly as sore, and they didn’t hurt as much as they had been. There was an aroma in the air, and it smelled delicious. Charlie couldn’t hide the smile as you made it into the library.

The other four were standing there, looking happy and nervous, but at least you didn’t feel alone in that regard. “We talked, a lot over the last few days. You’re family, and we want you to feel that way,” Charlie told you, giving you a hug.

“Thanks, this means a lot to me,” you whispered to her, returning the hug.

One by one, they each came over to you and hugged you. Sam and Eileen said you were like a little sister to them, which you found endearing. When Cas hugged you, he said he loved how much like a cat you were, but also that he liked your personality. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that one.

Dean waited till last, and he looked the most nervous as he approached you. The others slowly moved into the library, leaving the two of you in the archway. He gently wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

“I’m sorry, for being so stupid before. If- if you can forgive me, I’d still like to go out with you,” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

What the hell happened during my cycle?

You wanted to instantly just say yes, but you also wanted more information. Something clearly happened that you weren’t aware of. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you thought about what he said.

Fuck it. Why not. What could possibly go wrong by going out with him?

“We can at least try it and see how it goes,” you replied quietly, feeling somewhat unsure of how different things felt.

Dean gave you a gentle squeeze before setting his hand on your lower back and leading you over to one of the library tables. They all looked like they were in a good mood, at least, and you realized that the sweet smell was a candle on the table. As you sat down, he sat next to you. Everything felt so… odd.

“Since you’re up and moving around, I’m guessing the fog is gone,” Charlie began, to which you nodded, so she continued. “I did some research on cats. Cas also took a peak at your anatomy to help out with things. You’re a lot more cat-like on the inside than even you probably know.”

You weren’t quite sure what to think. On the one hand, you were appreciative, but on the other, you wondered what the details were. “Could I possibly have some coffee? This is, a lot,” you asked, keeping your emotions in check as best you could. At least your hormones were finally leveling back out.

Dean reached over and gently began rubbing your back while Cas went to the kitchen. Something about the contact from Dean was comforting, on more than just that regular human level. Cas returned, setting a cup of hot, steaming coffee in front of you before returning to his seat.

As you sipped it, Charlie continued, “So, there are all sorts of scientific mumbo jumbo terms that you probably wouldn’t understand at the moment. I’ll try to keep it simple without dredging up too much. Depression in cats causes all sorts of problems. We all know how sad you got when we found out we couldn’t break the curse. Add how you felt about, well, all of us, in different ways, and you had almost all the symptoms cats get when they’re depressed.”

You tilted your head a bit, fairly curious at this point. It was something you hadn’t ever considered might affect you. You also weren’t aware that animals went through those sorts of things, never having pets growing up or as an adult.

“Cats tend to pick their families. You chose us. I know that sounds weird with how things happened, but it’s just how the cat part of you is wired. Since we didn’t know how cat-like you really are, we didn’t know the little things you needed from us,” Charlie explained, seeing your mild confusion and curiosity.

The longer Charlie spoke, things were somewhat making sense. You had done a lot of research on cats but had ignored a lot as well. Dean kept rubbing your back gently, and you found yourself relaxing as your tail began swaying lazily to your side.

Sam cleared his throat, causing you to look over at him, “We want to include you in things, if you want to stay here. None of us want to see you go back to doing something you don’t want to. So, if you’re up for it, we want to teach you about hunting.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised.

“Yup. And I’ll teach you some hand-to-hand stuff,” Dean added with a smirk you knew meant he was looking forward to it.

You couldn’t help the small smile that played along your lips. Family wasn’t something you’d had in a long time. “Now for the part you might feel weird about,” Charlie pipped in, pulling your attention to her. “Your cycles. I did drug you. It was mostly to let you sleep through this cycle while I figured other stuff out. When you told me that you had only texted with Dean, all the pieces made sense. This might sound weird, but, well, he’s your human.”

Your face went blank as you stared at her. It was something you’d read about: cats choosing their person. A light blush also found its way to your cheeks. It did explain a lot as to why Dean staying away from you had bothered you so much. Part of you also felt bad for it.

Looking away from Charlie and down at your cup as your ears drooped a little, you mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Dean wasted no time, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his cheek just behind your ear, “Would you stop apologizing already,” he told you, somewhat playfully.

The contact surprised you, but it also comforted you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Relief washed through you as you let your body lean into his.

“As long as Dean doesn’t do something stupid,” Charlie continued, giving Dean a warning glare, “you’ll be okay. You also need to be eating more red meat and chicken or some other sort of bird. It’s a high-protein diet. I would add fish, too, if you aren’t allergic to it. Your system was out of whack. That was also making your cycles harder. You and Dean have at least three weeks to figure things out. On your next cycle, it’ll just be the two of you here in the bunker.”

That one made your blush so deep, you swore you were the color of a tomato. When Dean chuckled, you felt it rumble from deep in his chest. “I promise, I won’t hurt you, not on purpose,” he whispered, and you could hear the soft smile in his words.

“Thanks, just nervous, I guess,” you mumbled.

“With all that out of the way,” Charlied piped in again, causing you to pull away from Dean so you could see her better. “Your cat side needs more physical contact. You’ve starved it since the curse happened, and that’s another reason your cycles were so bad, your emotions were all over the place, and your hormone levels are, or at least were, way off. Cas also healed you, but you have to keep up on things.”

Sometimes you just loved listening to her talk with how expressive she was. It was like when she talked, she put everything into it. What she said made sense. You had pushed a lot away since the curse, and being around them had brought a lot out that you weren’t prepared for. You’d dealt with the curse and, recently, the fact that it couldn’t be broken. Now, it was time to deal with all of what you were. Which was apparently far more cat-like than you ever considered.

Dean kept contact with you; right now, it was his hand on your lower back, rubbing gentle circles against your shirt with his thumb. Charlie’s words helped put other pieces into place. Cas had healed you, completely. That was why things felt different. Your body chemistry was finally like it was supposed to be, which it never had been before.

“We typically aren’t physically affectionate people,” Sam added with a softness you weren’t used to, “but we can work on that. If you need a hug, don’t feel like you need to ask. That’s all I’m saying. Just keep all that other stuff to you and Dean.”

The last part made you giggle a little, something you hadn’t done in what felt like far too long. “Thanks. I can’t say that enough, to all of you,” it was really all you could say. “Come on, I’ll get you something to eat,” Dean told you, kissing the top of your head before he headed in that direction.

You hadn’t even thought about food, not with everything Charlie had been talking about, even if she had brought up meat, and bacon. Curiously, you grabbed your cup and followed Dean while the others did their best not to snicker as you walked away. Your ears and tail twitched with a curiosity that you hadn’t felt before, not like this anyway. Sure, you got curious in the past, but this felt different; everything did.

Dean was already standing at the stove, heating a pan. You filled your cup again before hoisting yourself up on the island to watch him. Yes, you enjoyed sitting on surfaces that weren’t technically meant for sitting. Although, you weren’t sure if that was a cat thing or just a weird human thing. You did make sure to keep your tail on the left side of your body since Dean was also using part of the island for cooking items.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just watched him cook, gently swaying your feet. The food did smell amazing, and just when he turned to look at you, you were licking your lips.

“Smell good?” he asked with an amused smirk.

“Let’s just say I didn’t realize I was hungry till I smelled it,” you replied, smiling happily. “Yes, it does smell good,” you decided to add, not wanting him to feel as though you didn’t want to actually answer him.

“You know, you really are adorable,” he chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement as he went back to cooking.

Your ears twitched with your tail, giving away just how good you were feeling and how good his words made you feel. It wasn’t like you could hide that sort of thing. “And you’re sweet,” you told him, and you were fairly surprised at how easily it was to feel as relaxed as you were. “Be right back,” you quickly stated, then hopped off the island.

Heading back to the library, you found Cas and hugged him, even though he was sitting down. “I can’t thank you enough, Cas. I don’t think I ever felt this good after I got cursed.” Then, you went over and hugged Charlie, now purring. “You too. Thank you, Charlie, for caring like you did, and do.”

Charlie actually blushed, but she returned the hug. Cas was still somewhat confused but smiling nonetheless. Feeling better now that you had thanked them again, you went back into the kitchen. You somehow just knew that it was those two who had done most of the work. You slid onto one of the seats at the table, just watching Dean again. You rested your head in your palms as your elbows were on the table.

Dean plated the steak, eggs, and toast and brought it over to you, sitting down across from you. “Hope you’re hungry,” he smirked.

Licking your lips at the meal before you, “Starving.”

He chuckled at your response but sat there while you ate. You hadn’t ever looked this happy, relaxed, and playful since you’d moved in. He didn’t want to hope, but seeing you now, that hope grew within him. Charlie had given him quite the earful the day before your cycle started, and she was far harder on him than he’d ever been on himself. You were more than a person, you were also a lot like a cat. She had explained that a relationship with a person is different. Break-ups can be healed, and people can move on. When it comes to animals, though, the moving on part doesn’t always happen, and that some animals can die from depression. Dean realized quickly, thanks to Charlie, that not being with you would be far more harmful than if he chose to be, and that was just with the living situation.

He was lost in his thoughts, watching you and figuring out just what came next for the two of you. Dean had already gone through the range of things in his thoughts. Everything from slow and gentle to fucking the brat out of you, and he was still struggling with how to even pursue a first real kiss with you at the moment.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” you asked, mouthful of a bite of steak and egg, without looking up at him.

“What makes you think I’m thinking about anything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, fairly curious at this point.

“Your scent changes,” you replied, then swallowed the bite in your mouth, looking up at him.

Dean blushed, but attempted to smirk and recover, “Good change or bad change?”

“Depends. What were you thinking about?” you replied, this time tilting your head, just a bit, curiously.

“Kissing you,” he answered, his smirk turning to more of a smile.

“Then it would be a good change, and now I know,” you giggled, going back to your meal.

His entire expression went to utter confusion for a moment due to your response. You didn’t say anything about him wanting to kiss you, just that the scent he gave off was good. He made a mental note to ask Charlie about that later since she’d become somewhat of an expert.

You were able to think back on other times he had that scent, and it definitely made sense. Now, at least, you knew what the change meant. It was hard to focus, though. Between the delicious meal he’d made you and the scent coming off of him, your mind was thinking about all sorts of things.

I wonder if that scent gets stronger if he thinks more intimate thoughts?

It was more curiosity than anything at this point. Popping the last bite of steak in your mouth, you purred, smiling happily.

“I love it when you do that,” Dean chuckled, taking your plate to the sink and beginning to clean up.

That wouldn’t do for you, though, so quickly got to your feet, and got between him and the sink before he could make it there. You looked up at him, wishing you could truly express what you felt, but couldn’t find the words.

“You cooked. I can clean up,” you told him sincerely. It was the only thing you could think of, other than how close the two of you were, again.

Dean leaned a little closer, sliding the plate into the sink behind you, then set his hands on your hips, “You’re quicker than you look.”

“That? That was nothing,” you replied, but the moment you looked into his eyes, your lips parted, and your mind went blank. You’d wanted to say something else, but for the life of you, whatever it was, it was gone with how he was looking at you.

He licked his lips, and your eyes caught the movement, now watching his tongue slide between his lips before it disappeared behind them again. Slowly, you looked back up into those beautiful green eyes of his, and you could have sworn they were a shade darker.

Your entire body went through anticipation of what he’d do next, of the what if he kissed you.

Does he even know what he does to me when he looks at me like that? Yeah, probably.

The moment you opened your mouth to say something else, he leaned down and placed those wonderful, plump, soft pink lips of his against yours. He reached one of his hands up, gently holding your cheek. It almost felt like a dream, but your body made it clear that it was anything but.

It was slow and intimate, and you had no control over the purring it brought on. You felt Dean smirk against your lips as he deepened the kiss, ever so slightly. Those sweet butterfly kisses you had dreamed about. Everything but the two of you was nonexistent the moment he slipped his tongue between your lips, which you let him, inhaling deeply and pressing your body closer to his.

If it wasn’t for Cas just showing up in the kitchen, you weren’t sure how long that kiss would have lasted.

“Damnit, Cas, we talked about this,” Dean growled, annoyed, making you giggle as you calmed your breathing.

“Sorry, Dean, but we have a problem. Let me take her to her room,” Cas said in a way that made your heart pound harder against your chest.

----------------------------------------- A/N: Part 3 is on hold for now while I try to finish Soulmates. I hope I can get back to this one and get part 3 written and up for you guys.

Series Master List Part 1 Master List Part 2 Master List Past 3 Master List (On Hold) Main Master List

A/N: As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know in a comment. And if I missed your request to be tagged, please let me know. I know not everyone is interested in everything an author writes, so don't mind doing different tag lists for each piece of writing. I just get a lot of requests sometimes.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @zaratahir @jc-winchester @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @kindollss @flamencodiva @reignsboy19

@stillhere197 @kr804573 @hobby27 @megs-gadom

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slowlyhardgoatee · 1 year ago

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Welcome, son.

I guess you’re here to interview for that position under Colin, am I right? Good. Well, I’m Colin. Morning. Sorry for the mess in here, plus I’m not really dressed for an interview, but… never mind. Can you just confirm your birthday for me? …October 5th? And your CV says you were born in 2004 - so, you’re just 19? Alright. Good.

Well I’ll be honest, son, the interview process is really just a formality. I’m gonna ask you a couple of questions but ultimately, it’s the practical assessment I’m interested in.

You have experience in the care industry, I see. Was that full-time? You know this position is live-in? I’ll need you on hand 24/7. You’re ok with that? Alright.

No family? They kicked you out for being gay, you say? And it says here you’re an inveterate people-pleaser? Excellent.

Well, that about does it for the questions. Now for the practical assessment. Like I said, my name is Colin, but there was actually a typo in your interview package. Your position is actually under my colon. Yeah, that’s right, boy. That’s the practical assessment - how long you can rim, suck on and tongue my arsehole in a single sitting without coming up for air.

Let’s get started, shall we? Strip. Leave your undies on, though. You won’t be touching your own cock at any point anyway, and I’m not interested in seeing it.

Don’t give me that disgusted look, boy. I thought you were a people-pleaser? Doesn’t sound like you’ve got anywhere else you can go, does it? No. Strip, and get on your fucking back.

Oh, you’re wearing a jock? Nice. Saves me having to rip the back of your undies open when it’s time to breed your cunt.

If you’re looking around for a rim seat, you’ll be looking a long time. I ain’t got one. I’m just gonna be sitting right on your face, boy. Now, on your back. Tongue out. Good lad. I’ve cleaned up back there this time, but as you get more familiar with my arsehole, I’ll have you cleaning it for me. I’ll be using your tongue as my fucking toilet paper, boy. Here we go…

That’s it, faggot, get that tongue right in there. Fuck yeah, good boy. Keep going. Breathe in my fucking sweaty musk, fag. Good. You’ve passed the practical assessment, boy. You start straight away, as a live-in slave.

I didn’t say stop, faggot. This is where you belong now - French kissing a fat old man’s sweaty arsehole while he’s sat on your face. Haha - and you’re fucking tenting your jock over it, boy. Yeah, you fucking love it, you dirty little slut. Old enough to be your fucking granddad, boy, and you’re pitching a tent over eating my arsehole.

Well, I think that’s what I’ll have you calling me from now on, boy. You want my cock in you, boy? Yeah? You want my fucking granddad cock, faggot? Lick my arsehole once for ‘Yes’, twice for ‘Granddad’. Good fucking boy.

Here, let me stand up. Kneel in front of me, boy. I wanna hear you beg for it. The next sentence I wanna hear you say is ‘Rape my faggot throat please, Granddad’.

Good lad. Open wide, slave. Yeah, get Granddad’s fat fucking meat pipe in that throat. All the way down, boy. Oh, fuck yeah. Dirty faggot. Gag on it. Good boy.

Oh- I heard that moan, boy. I think you’re ready to get fucked, aren’t you? Eh? Stand up, turn round and bend over for me. Fucking hell, look at that tight twat. I’ll be opening that right up, boy. You ready, faggot? Yeah? Here comes my meat.

Fuuuuuck yeah, boy, take that fucking granddad cock good and deep. Slave. I’m gonna be raping your twat as many times a day as I want, faggot. Always bareback. That’s right, slut, you’ll be taking my cream in every hole you’ve got, every day. If I cream in your mouth, you swallow it all and beg for more. That clear? Good.

Hold still, boy. I’m close. God, I’m so fuuucking close, faggot. You ready to take Granddad’s cream up that slave cunt, boy? Yeah? Beg for it, slut. Oh, FUCK. Goooood fucking boy. Now lick my cock clean like a good slave. Fuck yeah. Oh I didn’t say stand back up, faggot. No, you belong on your knees from now on, boy. At all times, unless I tell you otherwise. In the morning I’m getting a delivery. It’s a little gift for you, boy. A cock cage, slave collar and a butt plug for when I’m working. Then I think I’m gonna take you round all the gay bars on a fucking lead, boy. Have everyone watch how you beg for my dick like a dog.

In the meantime, faggot, I need to take a leak. Stay on your knees and open that fucking mouth. I want you to swallow the fucking lot, boy. If you spill a drop, I’ll have you over my fucking knee for a good hard belting. In fact, faggot, I think I’ll be doing that anyway. Keep still, boy. Here comes Granddad’s piss.

#pigboy #faggot slave #slave boy #breedpig #daddybear #sirsslave #granddadcock

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melonba11s · 1 year ago

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Taking Care of Him (Strade/MC BTD Fanfic)

Uuuuh It was supposed to be a fic of MC taking care of Strade but then I got really into describing how the beef stew was made.

Contains: Strade, Ren, Gender Neutral MC, Fluffy Nonsense

Your first sign that something was wrong with Strade was hearing a distant hacking cough. Although at first you chalked it up to him perhaps, inhaling too quickly on one of his cigars, when it kept on going… you found yourself becoming concerned.

Finally, after about an hour of listening to him cough and wheeze, you heard the slow thump of him coming up the stairs. He looked… like absolute dogshit. His entire face was flushed, he was sweaty. Both were rather normal for him, but paired with the absolute exhaustion on his face, and how he was gasping for breath just from a short walk up the stairs, it was obvious he was sick.

“Strade…?” you began, watching him stomp over to the kitchen cabinet where he kept medicine. He gave a grunt, digging through it.

“You look… Bad.” You approached him slowly, placing a hand tentatively on his shoulder. When he didn’t react, you pressed the back of your hand to the crook of his neck. He flinched, hard.

“Scheiße, your hands are cold!” He hissed.

“My hands are normal! YOU’RE burning up!” you retorted, pushing him away from the cabinet, towards the couch. “I’ll grab some medicine, you just sit down, okay?”

Strade groaned, he didn’t have the energy to fight you it seemed as he plopped onto the couch. He reached for the remote, turning the tv on.

“I just need some medicine, I’ll feel better then.” he said,before he began coughing again. You listened for a second to him cough, before turning back towards the cabinet.

“It’s a wet cough, you need an expectorant.” you commented, looking through the cabinet.

“Just get me some cough medicine.” Strade said, sounding a bit exasperated. You sighed, placing your hands on the counter. You needed to convince him to just lay down, get some rest.

“... Strade.” You approached him, pouring some purple, grape flavored liquid into a measuring cup. “If you take this, I’ll make a special beef stew for you.” you grinned down at him, holding the medicine out. Strade narrowed his eyebrows, arching an eyebrow.

“... with extra meat.” you waved it a little, as if enticing him. It struck you that maybe you were babying him a bit… But his features softened a little, as a grin came to his face.

“Fine, Schatzi… I’ll let you take care of me, if it will make you happy.” he rumbled, taking the medicine from you. You watched as he wrinkled his nose, before downing it in one fluid gulp.

Taking the spoon back from him, you went back to the kitchen, throwing it into the sink before heading upstairs to talk to Ren. Knocking first, you poked your head into the room, as he sat curled up on his pile of blankets.

“... Is he actually sick?” Ren asked before you could say anything. You figured he could hear Strade talking and bits of the conversation with his better hearing. He looked a little amused. “I’ve never seen him sick. I started to think nothing could take him down.”

“I think so, he’s burning up, I’m gonna go back downstairs and start dinner… Uhm, could you help me? He’s on the couch, he could use some blankets, maybe a few extra pillows.”

“Yeah sure.” Ren said, stretching before getting up. “He’ll probably force me to keep him company if you have him locked to the couch anyways.” as if on cue, you heard a raspy yell.

“Ren! C’mere!” Strade must already be feeling lonely. Making sure Ren did actually fetch more bedding for Strade, you headed back into the kitchen, opening the fridge to get out the ingredients you needed.

Lighting up the pan, you first opened up the package of stew meat, giving it a quick sniff to make sure it was alright to use. Throwing a pat of butter into the pan, you begin to dust the beef in flour before laying it in the butter to brown the sides.

Keeping a close eye on it, you opened up the fridge again to look at the vegetable selection. Strade wasn’t a fan of greens, but he did keep plenty of root vegetables around. Parsnips, Carrots, Onions, Potatoes. Those would all place nice together.

Turning and eventually transferring the now browned meat onto a plate, you carefully washed and cut the vegetables into even chunks. More butter in the pan, plenty of salt and pepper, you tossed in the onion with several cloves of garlic.

Knowing you could leave it for a moment without worry, you popped back into the living room to check on Strade. He had an arm around Ren (no doubt meaning Ren was going to be sick next), silently watching The Bachelor. He must actually be rather sick, to remain quiet. Even when a woman threw wine onto another and began pulling her hair, it only roused a small grunting chuckle from him. You were attentive enough to notice how he snorted a bit, guessing that his nose was beginning to feel stuffy.

The house was beginning to fill with the smell of onions and garlic browning now, you stirred them as you watched the onions turn translucent. Getting out a deep oven dish, you tossed the meat into it, before layering the onion over the top, making sure to scrape up the fond off the bottom of the pan into the dish.

Once the vegetables were on top, you set to work making sure it was a dish Strade would absolutely love. First step, you cracked open a beer from the fridge, pouring it over the top. Joining the beer was some beef stock and Worcestershire sauce, until everything was just covered. Digging through the cabinet, more pepper and salt, before adding some bay leaves. Red Pepper flakes and paprika to give it just the smallest kick, to clear Strade’s sinuses you had heard begin to stuff up earlier.

After adding some thyme and oregano, you wiped the sweat off your brow, rolling your neck and shoulders. If it weren’t still full of mostly raw meat, you would give it a taste to see what it's missing. But right now, all you have is your instinct telling you something isn’t right.

You open the fridge, tapping your foot a bit as you look over the ingredients available to you… There was a lone apple sitting on the counter though that your gaze kept coming back too. Experimentation may be a bit of a bad idea here, but eventually you shrugged.

After peeling it, you decided to shred it, making sure to do so over the almost complete stew so that any juice from the apple would drip into the dish. With one final stir, you opened up the oven and made sure it was at the lowest temperature you could before covering the oven dish with foil and setting it inside.

Now it was just a matter of waiting, you set the oven timer before heading back out into the living room. Not really worrying if you got sick from him or not, you plopped yourself next to Strade’s spare side, leaning against him. He didn’t say anything, he looked like he was about to fall asleep any moment, but he did give your shoulder a rub. It seemed he didn’t care what was on the TV anymore, because Ren had the remote and had turned on one of his anime.

“Strade… When we get sick, because we’re taking such good care of you and catching your germs, will you care for us?” You heard an odd, raspy wheeze that you eventually recognized as him trying to chuckle through his gunked up lungs.

“Nyquil and an ice pack on the forehead, just like Mutter did for me.”

“Strade!”

“I’m kidding, Schatz… I’ll have to return the favor, won’t I?”

#strade btd #strade #boyfriend to death #btd fanfic #boyfriend to death fanfic #melons july ficfest

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immeasurablesaladagere · 2 months ago

Note

little five??? (referenced in last tua fic thing) 👀

Little Five and unlikely caregiver Viktor??? 👀 more likely than you think!

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Word Count: 1631

Summery: Continuation of the Little!Viktor Classification AU fic, Little Five regresses for the first time since coming home and goes to Viktor’s apartment because there is no way he’s going to be small around the rest of his family.

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“Bye, Caroline! I’ll see you next Tuesday!” Viktor said as the little girl took her mother’s hand to leave. She smiled shyly back at him and waved goodbye as best as she could while trying to keep her grip on the violin case. It was still just a bit too big for her, but she was coming along well with the basics anyway.

He closed the door and sighed. Last lesson of the day. Finally. He loved giving lessons, but they still got to be tiring when they were scheduled back-to-back like they were today. But Caroline was going on vacation with her family soon, and Mark had to reschedule for an appointment, and two weeks ago it hadn’t seemed like a big deal to squeeze them in on top of his other lessons. Two-Weeks-Ago Viktor forgot how draining people could be.

His stomach growled. With the extra lessons, he hadn’t gotten the chance to eat dinner in-between like he usually would, and apparently his stomach wasn’t content to continue running on a turkey and cheese sandwich anymore, so he went to the kitchen to make something for dinner. Did he feel like cooking today? There were instant noodle packages in the cupboard, which would be faster, but that would also make it his supper for the third night in a row and the idea made him scrunch up his nose. Nope. He resigned himself to waiting a little longer and cooking an actual meal.

In the fridge there was a thawed package of ground beef he should probably use soon and some miscellaneous vegetables. He definitely had pasta and he was pretty sure he bought tomato sauce on the last grocery-run, so spaghetti it was. He was just about to put the meat into a pan when he heard a familiar warping sound coming from the living room followed by a loud thump.

Five?

Sure enough, when he came around the corner Five was laying half on top of his coffee table and half on the floor, absolutely soaking wet.

“Five! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here? What happened?” He rushed forward to help him up, but Five batted his hands away and pushed himself up with a groan, dripping water all over the carpet.

“M’fine…”

“Here, let me find you a towel.” He hurried to the linen closet and returned with two fluffy towels and gave them over to Five. “Why are you all wet?”

Five rubbed one of the towels clumsily over his face and hair, and Viktor’s stomach knotted with worry. Five looked flustered and uncoordinated, and he was shaking all over. Viktor hoped it was just from the cold, but after showing up at his apartment the first time with the cut on his arm he couldn’t be sure.

“Rain.” Five huffed, “Didn’t get the jump right, ‘was outside.”

“You missed a jump?” Five didn’t just miss jumps. “Is there something wrong with your powers? That’s not like you…”

Five stopped drying himself off for a second like he was thinking about it, before answering, “No.”

But something was off. Five was holding himself differently, closed-off and almost shy, and even though they hadn’t had many conversations together there was something different about his voice. It was softer; quieter.

“It’s just— Jumps get harder to do when I’m…” He trailed off into a mumble, “Little.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, and Five’s words at the ‘family dinner’ echoed in his head.

“Eh, you were. But it takes one to know one, kid.”

“Oh. That… yeah, that makes sense…” He was at a loss for words. Five was little, and Five came to him, of all of their siblings. He wasn’t even a caregiver and Five had chosen him. Whatever he was going to do, he should probably stop gaping because Five was starting to give him the stink-eye.

“Am I… allowed to be here?” Five asked, slowly putting down the towel, “I can go if—“

“No! No, it’s okay.” He assured, “I’m glad you came here, I was just… surprised. I’m not even a caregiver, I thought you’d go to Luther or Allison instead.”

Five wrinkled his nose. “No. They’d be stupid about it, and Klaus…” He made a face, “I don’t wanna stay with Klaus. Or Diego.”

That was fair. After Five had to rescue him from family dinner it made sense that he would be hesitant to be small around them. The thought that Five could put that trust in him made Viktor feel warm inside.

“Yeah, I get that. Hey, uh, are you hungry? I was about to make spaghetti for dinner.”

Five perked up at the offer of food, then shivered. “Spaghetti’s good.”

Viktor internally kicked himself. Duh, of course he was cold. “I’ll find you some new clothes. Come on, I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll fit you.”

Five followed him to his bedroom and watched over his shoulder as he looked through the dresser for something warm. He pulled out a pair of black sweatpants with a drawstring waist and a grey orchestra hoodie. “These okay?”

Five nodded.

“Great. The bathroom’s right over there, you can—“ The thought suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t actually know how old Five was right now. That was probably important, as his babysitter and all. “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask how old you were. Did you need any… help?”

Five’s cheeks turned pink and he firmly shook his head no. “Don’t need help. And…” He huffed, “…six.”

“Alright, thank you for telling me. Go get changed, and I’ll be in the kitchen, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

Five shuffled off to the bathroom and Viktor quickly mopped up the trail of water he had tracked through the apartment, then went to the kitchen and finally put the ground beef into the pan that had been pre-heating unattended for the last ten minutes. He grabbed a tomato, a small handful of mushrooms, and the one sad stock of celery that was still in the fridge and began organizing them on a cutting board when Five returned. The clothes were still a little big but they weren’t dwarfing him, and he wasn’t shivering anymore, so Viktor took that as a win.

“Do you want to help?” He offered when he noticed that Five was just standing there awkwardly, “Maybe not with the vegetables, I’ll cut those, but you can stir the meat if you want?” He held out the spatula, and Five hesitantly took it and walked over to the pan.

“What do I do?”

“You break it up and stir it so it cooks evenly. We’ll cook it until it’s all brown, and you can’t see any more pink.”

“Oh... Okay.” With his task assigned, Five dutifully watched and stirred the pan with intense focus as the meat cooked, only looking up occasionally to ask Viktor if it was brown enough yet, while Viktor boiled a pot of water and added the noodles.

“Is it done yet?”

Viktor glanced over at the pan for the fourth time in twenty minutes, and smiled. “That looks good. Now we add our veggies and our sauce.” He handed Five the jar of sauce to pour while he went to scrape in the vegetables, but Five stopped him.

“No mushrooms.” He said. “They’re gross.”

Viktor chuckled. “But I like the mushrooms. What if I make super sure that I don’t put any on your spaghetti, is that okay?”

He pulled a very serious thinking-face. “Mmm… fine.”

“Great.” And in went the mushrooms.

Once the noodles were done, Viktor plated the spaghetti, careful to avoid getting mushrooms on Five’s plate, and the two of them ate at the table in a comfortable silence. Or at least, not as uncomfortable as it could have been. By the time all was said and done and the dishes were washed and put away, it was nearing nine o’clock and Five was starting to look sleepy.

“I’ll make up the couch for bedtime, okay?” Viktor said, fluffing one of the throw pillows and pulling down the blankets from the back of the couch. “Can you promise me you’ll stay here tonight? No leaving in the middle of the night like last time.”

The idea of a regressed Five deciding to wander out into the city at night was nerve-wracking, especially now that he knew Five’s powers were unstable while he was small.

Five looked away, a little ashamed. “I won’t leave. Promise.”

Viktor smiled. “Good. Oh, and one more thing. I have something for you, wait here.” He went to his bedroom and opened the closet, rummaging around through the endless boxes until he found what he was looking for; the scruffy little dog plush that he’d taken from Five’s room all those years ago, right after he disappeared. It was a Saint Bernard that was well-loved even before Victor hid it in a box under his bed and then his closet, but he didn’t think he would be able to get rid of it even if it was falling apart. Hopefully Five remembered it.

He came out with the dog hidden behind his back, and Five looked at him expectantly. “Look who I’ve got!”

He held up the plush, and Five let out a little gasp.

“Buddy…”

Viktor handed it over and Five clutched it tightly. “I kept him after you left. I don’t think anyone else knows that I took him…” He sat down beside Five on the couch and gave Buddy a little scratch on the head. “He reminded me of you.”

“Thank you, Viktor…” Five whispered.

“Time for bed now, okay? Get under the blankets with Buddy.” Viktor tucked him in and gently brushed his bangs out of his face. “Goodnight, Five. I love you.”

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #agere blog #age regression #fandom agere #fanfic #the umbrella academy agere #the umbrella academy #viktor hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves

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ceilingfan5 · 2 years ago

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@taznovembercelebration embrace/refusal

There’s an apple crisp in the oven. There are thumbprint cookies on the table, next to butter cookies and chocolate crackle cookies, as well as about 3 weeks of unopened mail. There is a pound of strawberry cheesecake fudge cooling in the fridge next to an actual cheesecake that looks like a beach scene complete with seagulls, and Taako is fine.

He’s fine. Shut up about it maybe.

The pumpkin pie had gone to the neighbors Taako doesn’t hate, and the bread with all the seeds and fruits went to the neighbors he does hate, and the chocolate dipped pretzels all got eaten last night on the couch, with the TV on mute.

But he’s fine. He’s managing. Doing great, even. He’s figured out the grocery store app. You don’t even have to leave the house anymore, you just have to pay through the nose about it.

His one complaint is that usually he can bully Kravitz into doing the dishes. And, well, Kravitz has been away for a while now. Which is fine. That was the plan. He’d said there would be temporal anomalies, and that it would be a hard assignment, and that he would call when he could, but that it might not be possible, and that no matter what, he promised he’d be back soon.

And Taako, who is good at feelings, and being a person, and having a relationship, and communicating especially, said “Okay. Be safe.” And that was that.

And it’s been that. That persists, in fact, like some kind of hideous drawn-out nightmare, which Taako has not been having, thank you very much, because he’s hardly been sleeping, because it’s just easier to sleep on the couch than in the bed when you’re alone and you’re waiting for the door to open.

And it doesn’t open.

Everything is fine, and he’s doing great, and he’s being so normal about his boyfriend being away and not in the house and not in his bed and not in his arms and not here to wash the fucking dishes.

Taako does the dishes with magic anyway. So there. He does the dishes and he bakes and he goes on with his fucking business, thank you, because his life doesn’t revolve around Kravitz, and those words don’t keep replaying in his head and making him want to claw his brain goo out.

In fact, maybe he’s so capable that Kravitz is the one that needs him. Maybe he needs to get off his ass and go save Kravitz’s, and maybe he’s out there somewhere, needing him, and Taako can save the day and I-told-you-so in the same montage sequence, and Taako turns from baking like a commercial for eggnog flavored Red Bull and starts packing the essentials. He doesn’t know where he’s headed, but that’s okay. He’ll bully the fucking Raven Queen into spilling all the details. He’ll figure it out. He’s tough. He’s strong. He’s a lone wolf. He’ll destroy those fucking necromancers holding his man hostage, and he’ll save the day, and-

“Taako?”

Taako jumps and nearly cracks his head meat on the bones of the ceiling, and he whips around, wand at the ready, but it’s him, and he didn’t even do the courtesy of opening the door, like Taako’s been waiting for, he just ripped a hole in time and space and stepped through it, half burnt and covered in blood that may or may not be his, and looking weary and loving and perfect and damnable all in one easy package.

Taako, standing there with his wand in threat position, eyes wide, doesn’t know what to say, and the silence stretches.

“Taako, are you okay?” Kravitz’s sweet brown eyes are so, so soft and loving and Taako wants to fireball his ass to the sun and back. How dare he. How fucking dare he.

“Fine,” Taako breathes. He lowers his wand. “Are you? I was just about to come save your ass.”

“I almost needed it,” Kravitz croaks, smiling gently. “What’s with all the cookies?”

You don’t get to ask that, a foul voice in Taako’s head says, but it luckily doesn’t leak out. Taako’s the Tupperware of guys with problems.

“Got bored,” he drawls.

“I guess it has been a while…” Kravitz frowns. “I know I’m a bit of a mess, but I kind of thought you’d want a hug. How many days has it been?”

“Bout twenty.” So casual.

“Tw- Twenty??” Kravitz, idiot, love him, checks his watch, and gapes at Taako. “Twe- you’ve been- for twenty-”

“It’s fine.” Taako’s voice almost breaks. “Knew you’d be back soon.” Oh, nope, there it went.

It doesn’t hit Kravitz very fast. Maybe he has a head injury, maybe he’s just been through the wringer, maybe it doesn’t hurt him the same way it hurts Taako. But realization dawns on his face, and he knows he’s fucked up.

“Taako,” he whispers.

“It’s fine,” Taako insists. “Glad you’re back or whatever. Dishes need washing.”

Kravitz runs over and hugs him tightly, nearly squeezes the life out of him, with his corporeal and arguably alive? Body, and Taako forces a breath into his own stupid body, and he’s fine, and he’s fine, and he’s fine-

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

And Taako cries. It’s the ugliest, shakingest, miserablest cry he’s let loose in a long fucking time, and it hurts coming out like all those stupid feelings hurt going in, and he fucking weeps in Kravitz’s arms like some kind of stupid. The hurt is old and new and bleeding again when Taako was sure he’d finally cauterized it, but fireball does not a registered nurse make. Kravitz’s stupid bastard therapist that Taako refuses to talk to might have been slightly almost right, a little, and Taako cries harder about that, too, because fuck him, that’s why.

They stand there, clutching at each other, for some time, and when Taako finally dares to look at Kravitz, his dumb lovable face is all snotty and wet too, and Taako takes a little mean comfort in that.

“You have so many cookies to eat, asshole,” Taako mumbles.

“I’ll eat every last one,” Kravitz promises. And he kisses Taako on the head. It makes him feel warm all over for the first time in ages.

“You’re bleeding on my floor.”

“Yeah, I think I am. When you’re ready, can we- medical attention, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Taako sniffs. “Only ‘cause I like you.”

#taakitz #taakitz fic #taz #taz b #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #look at me i wrote a semi canonical piece instead of an au are you proud

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izvmimi · 11 months ago

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malevolent enterprise ch. 9

cw: ceo!au. you and nobara get to know a little more about each other. header by @/cafekitsune! masterlist

“Third time really is the charm, I see,” Nobara says, smirking as you walk down the front steps of the office to meet her. It’s evening and the orange tones of the overhead sky mix in with her bob, as you approach her, holding your designer bag tightly to your side. Nobara’s eyes pass over it and she looks away but once you meet her, she compliments it and your shoes.

“Finally someone else on our floor has refined taste,” she says as the two of you head down the street to the trendy bar/restaurant at the end of the corporate district, the type that hires men and women that are pretty enough to serve at host clubs but insist they don’t provide that kind of service.

You laugh, but she stops in her tracks and looks at you dead serious.

“This is not a game. These men embarrass me.”

You think about the protein Perrier again and shudder.

Once you’re seated, Nobara orders a shochu highball with lychee, and you order a Cosmopolitan that you sip slowly while Nobara does her best to size you up as a person, asking you questions that attempt to pick below your overall well-contained exterior.

“How do you like the place so far?” she asks, and of course you have a practiced answer. The community is great, the hours are good, you’ve been able to very easily speak your mind and take stances, Yuuji is a great boss, etc. Her eyes narrow as if she’s uninterested.

“Boring,” she says outright, and you nearly choke on your drink.

“Kugisaki-san, respectfully, did you think I was going to shittalk the place?” you reply, and the casualty of your language delights her.

“No, but it would have made you more interesting. I like complainers.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Your sass entertains her more and she grins, slipping a yakitori stick into her mouth and pulls the meat off the stick a little too cleanly.

“You know, I hate this job.”

You blink. She shouldn’t really be telling you this considering that she’s acting Chief Financial Officer, you think, but you nod, then swirl your drink, noncommittally. It’s very clear that most of her subordinates do the work anyway, although you don’t doubt her abilities.

“Why so?” you ask. You try to keep your tone casual and non-confrontational but it occurs to you that there’s very little you could ever do to ever intimidate someone like her. She shrugs.

“I want to be an influencer.”

As she says this she’s scrolling through something in her phone, and then shows you her lifestyle Instagram. She’s not famous enough that you would have heard about her, but she has a decent amount of followers and you imagine that with more dedication, she could be quite popular.

“Offices, meetings, paperwork, all that nonsense, have never really been my thing. I’m just helping out Itadori since we’ve been friends for so long, since college. We started at the same time, when his grandpa insisted that he join all because he said he needed a friend. I ended up this high up as a fluke.”

You nod. You’ve figured out that they were a bit close due to the way she interacts with him between board meetings and run-ins in the hallways, but didn’t figure that there was that much history involved.

“So why haven’t you left?” you ask. She gives you a look, then sighs.

“Didn’t want to ditch him during his time of need,” she admits. “I don’t come from a fancy background like he does, so I have to remind him when he’s being too bourgeois once in a while and making a big deal out of nothing. He wasn’t supposed to inherit, you know.”

You do know. Your thoughts flit to him and his easy smile, then to the pensive furrow of his eyebrows. He doesn’t make huge mistakes, but he’s unsure at times. He asks you for your opinion too much, he worries too much about how his employees feel.

“The salary is good though,” she mentions. You nod. Your check is fat enough that you’ve been able to put away Gojo’s severance package as a little nest egg in your savings.

“Have you told him you want to leave?” you ask.

She laughs. “Need to save a little bit more if I truly want to travel for the rest of my life.”

“Mm,” is your reply.

“I think Itadori would be willing to fund my channel at least in the beginning but the idea of being indebted to a man kind of disgusts me.”

She reaches for another yakitori stick and you take the opportunity to stuff your mouth with gyoza. You have to admit that you’re a bit more curious about their relationship, with an urge to pry. Kugisaki is beautiful and elegant, but crass enough that it pleasantly brings her down to earth. They make a good pair.

You try to avoid your urge to ask more questions by joking, “I know that’s right,” as you clink glasses with her.

Her eyes narrow for a moment, then she props her chin up by her hand.

“Interested in anyone?” she asks. The sudden question catches you off guard, but you figure with girl talk this will eventually happen.

“Actually, I just got out of a bad relationship,” you say, keeping your tone light. Bad is an understatement. You’d caught your boyfriend trying to arrange an orgy in your home with three girls while you were on a business trip and kicked him out expeditiously without bothering to even take the time to really yell at him. After all, he might have been more of a pet than a partner, but that was an entirely different story.

“Loser?” Nobara asked, sipping the last of her drink through a tiny straw, the pull-through of air loud.

“Cheater,” you offer. She looks at you.

“Damn. Let’s stab him.”

This makes you laugh out loud.

“Thank you, but not worth it. I didn’t really care about him by the end anyway.”

Nobara offers you a high five. “Are you seeing anyone?” you ask, finally, despite having told yourself to avoid probing just moments ago.

“Kind of,” she again appears to act uninvested but you can see a gentle pink flush on her cheeks that you’re not sure is from the alcohol. You think about Yuuji again then blurt out,

“Workplace relationships aren’t frowned upon here, are they?”

Nobara looks confused for a moment. “No, why would you ask that?”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to warm. “Oh, I assumed maybe, with Itadori-san, you-”

“I like women.” Nobara says flatly, a hand up to stop you from even considering the thought. You blink, and your mouth forms an O, and she’s amused enough about your reaction to laugh.

“Don’t worry, I don’t fuck where I eat though,” she pauses, then looks you up and down again. “Although you’re cute, I won’t deny that.”

Another clean yakitori stick, and you have to shake the fact that she has genuinely flustered you out of your head. She’s caught this too, and she laughs, slapping your shoulder.

“Relax, newbie!”

You loosen up, then consider that you might need to order another drink. The waitress comes around for another round and you find that you’re relieved at the thought that Kugisaki is not interested in either you nor your boss.

“How was it like working for Satoru? You didn’t try to fuck him too, did you?” she asks upfront. Your eyes widen, and she grins. “Listen, I might be immune to his charms, but not many in Tokyo are.”

“He’s kind of gross, but he’s kind in other ways.”

Nobara’s displeased face throws you off so much you end up snorting.

“Okay, no more talk of men, we’re not passing the Bechdel test at all, are we?” she pivots.

You laugh. The remainder of the evening has you talking about your background, your families and all of your friends, and you’re thankful to have a new one by the end.

#nobara kugisaki x reader (platonic)#nobara x reader (platonic)#daydreams: jjk #mimi's notes #mimi writes: malevolent enterprise

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camels-pen · 2 years ago

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ride to the end

Summary: The kids are taking a school trip out of state. They try to pass time on the early morning train.

based on @summerssixecho's prompt "Oh, no, I thought you meant the red vial." and @ave-aria's prompt "Post Reveal: Team Phantom plays Never Have I Ever with the A-Listers. Things get out of hand very quickly. (Bonus: can include Valerie)"

Ao3 Link

An early morning train ride in the middle of November—where it’s dark outside the window and you can only vaguely see the outlines for things thanks to streetlights dotted here and there when you pass over a bridge, near a street, or through a train stop—is pretty peaceful, all things considered.

The passengers are quiet, getting an extra few hours rest before they reach their stop and the trip can begin. Most passengers anyway.

Sam and Tucker sit across from you, a deck of cards on the table. Valerie sits next to you, taking the last empty seat at your booth and flipping through one of the books assigned for English. The people in the booth across from you sound awake too, but your eyes are drawn to the glass.

You want to talk about how you could only really see your surroundings if you allow your eyes to fall out of focus. How the more you try to pay attention—the more you try to squint—the less you could see the outdoors. How you could only see your reflection in the window, otherwise.

You want to talk about how nice the world is, out of focus. How looking out, but not looking too hard, would let you experience it in a way that seemed never ending. How the continuous visuals of vague outlines of trees, rivers, and changing landscapes could make you think there was no final stop. That you could stay on and ride until you were ready to leave it behind. Ready to take the next step on your journey, wherever that may be.

You want to, but you don’t want to sound weird.

So until you reach your stop—the real one that you are, in fact, headed towards—you huddle further into your thick sweater, tuck your hands deeper into your pocket, and listen to the rumbling chink cha-chink of the train running along the tracks beneath you.

The smell of hot food makes your stomach rumble. Your attention draws to the aisle. A woman offers boxes of breakfast made fresh in the kitchen car not long ago. You and your friends take some. The group across from you—the A-listers, surprisingly—take some too.

The woman leaves. Everyone starts to eat. There’s more than one person complaining about the choice of food and portions.

“Shoulda had more meat,” Tucker mumbles, digging into the sausages.

“Should’ve had a vegan option,” Sam says, peeling open a package of apple slices.

“Or display all the food as a buffet,” Paulina says quietly, stifling a yawn as she pokes at her meal. “It would literally solve everything.”

Everyone else mumbles some kind of agreement. You and Tucker both hand Sam your fruit cups and hash browns. Valerie does the same.

“‘M not gonna finish all this. And I really hate how these taste.” Sam used her fork to nudge away the fruit cups.

“Trade?” Kwan asked, holding a bag of baby carrots. At you and your friends’ staring, he shrugs. “Mom always makes me bring a healthy snack.”

Sam agrees. And like they were all waiting for permission, each of them starts to toss food back and forth, you included. You are one of the first to stop. They continue on. You start on your meal. While you chew, you try to look at the others the way you did the passing scenery, but it doesn’t work as well. The outside world was nicer, out of focus, but the inside world had its charm in the details.

Valerie’s scattered papers on the table, each with her name messily written at the top. Tucker’s PDA and stylus, speckled with bits of scrambled eggs despite how careful he tries to be. Sam’s palms, smudged with what was almost certainly soil from her garden. Each one of the A-listers’ tired faces. The different bedheads they all—minus Paulina—are sporting. You drink it all in. You find comfort in it. Your friends are relaxed and the trip out of state would mean they would stay that way for the rest of the week, no worry of ghosts coming to interrupt them. And you find comfort in the details of the others, too. That despite how high and mighty they like to seem, despite how carefully they craft their images, they are human. Just like you.

Long after your plate was clean, you continued to enjoy it. And it was all well and good until everyone else had finished their breakfasts and you all were left with a pile of fruit cups that no one wanted to eat.

The thought of wasting food doesn’t sit right with Sam and Kwan, and after seeing—and starting—one too many food fights, Dash is certain Lancer would yell at them for it. None of them wanted to deal with that and neither did you; it wouldn’t be a good way to start the trip.

So, they plot.

Dash suggests pelting some of the other students with them, so they get caught with the food instead of us. Tucker says he just wants to hit unsuspecting nerds with it and he doesn’t deny it.

Kwan, with Sam’s approval, suggests putting them away in their bags to take home with them or eventually give them to someone who does want to eat it. Valerie rejects it and says something about not wanting her homework to get all sticky.

Star asks why they can’t just return the fruit cups to the kitchen car, since they’re still sealed. Paulina says it would be rude to just return the food, and besides she’s got a better idea.

You watch quietly as Paulina passes out one fruit cup to everyone. She sticks her straw through the lid of her own. “Never Have I Ever. Instead of taking a shot, you drink a sip of the juice in the cup.”

You feel a hint of disgust just thinking about it. The others look to feel the same. “I’m in,” you say.

The A-listers, either emboldened by your choice or bored out of their minds, are soon to agree. Tucker shrugs and agrees as well. Valerie, when prompted, gives her own distracted agreement, nose buried back between the pages of Lord of the Flies.

Sam groans. “I’m really gonna hate this.” She agrees anyway.

The minutes tick by. You become a little more awake while playing the game, laughing at specific scenarios meant to target friends. You try to do the same with Tucker and get more than a little offended when he turns the tables on you.

“Never Have I Ever been turned into a half-ghost!” he whisper-shouts.

You grumble and try to take a sip, but you’re sucking on air. You smirk. “It’s a shame, but I’m out.” You hold up your cup and shake it a little. Tucker squints at it. “Guess, we’ll have to end it there.”

“Nuh uh, not how it works, Fenton,” Dash says. “You gotta drink first. Anyone got some fruit juice left?”

There was a chorus of “no”s and with the light from the sun quickly peeking up over the horizon, you’re sure you’re gonna be home free. Dash tries shaking everyone’s cups just in case and you turn back to the window, wanting to savour the scenery again, now that it is easier to see. You miss the near pitch black of the early morning, but this—this was good too.

Dash makes a sound of triumph. Valerie makes a sound of protest. In his hands is a clear plastic bag with two vials.

Valerie doesn’t want to lose her energy drink experiments to a dumb game. Dash says she can make more later, but that you need to drink one now to “preserve the sanctity of Never Have I Ever”.

You didn’t even know Dash knew what the word “sanctity” meant. Honestly, you think he still might not.

Valerie sighs. Rubs the bridge of her nose. “Fine, just give him the skinny vial.”

Dash hands you a vial. You’re hesitant to pop the cork.

“Aww don’t be a wuss. Where’s all that courage you have as Phantom, when you’re beating up ghosts twice your size?” You think he makes a good point, sort of. You still don’t want to drink it. “Just slam it back quick and you won’t even taste it.”

“Isn’t tasting it the whole point?” Star mumbles.

“You don’t… have to.” You look at Sam. She looks worried. “We won’t think less of you or anything.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tucker said. He raised a fist in the air. “Slam it home, Danny!”

“Slam it home, Fenton!” Dash and Kwan say.

And. Well. You can’t just not drink it now.

So, you pull off the cork, ignore the upsetting smell, and chug it in one go. Dash, Kwan, and Tucker cheer you on.

It tastes. Bad. Worse than your mom’s ectowieners. You didn’t think that was possible.

It burns. Going down. A pain that spreads through your mouth, your throat, and—and your stomach. Ancients, your stomach.

You don’t notice much else other than the acid-like burning. You clutch at your stomach. Someone shakes your shoulder. You can’t quite hear what they say to you. It comes out distorted and practically inaudible.

Somehow, this was worse than being surrounded by blood blossoms during your trip through time. You didn’t think that was possible.

Your vision starts to fall out of focus. You start to feel slower, too. One moment, you’re slumped on the table. The next, you’re laying sideways on the bench and someone’s hand is pressed against your forehead.

“You gave him the blue vial, right?” Valerie’s fuzzy voice says above him.

Everything looks fuzzy.

Dash answers, “Oh, no, I thought you meant the red vial.”

You think you don’t like the world losing focus like this.

#Danny phantom #phic #phic phight #phic phight 2023 #nemo the writing ho

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byunbhyunz · 2 years ago

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Hyungwon - “I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

Pairing: Hyungwon/Reader

Genre: fluff, terriblecookerreaderandhyungwon!au

Word count: 1,019

Prompt: “I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

It all started with Hyungwon having enough of instant food and it eventually ended in chaos. Also, with a kitchen you had to wipe clean, and magically get rid of the smell of burnt meat.

When Hyungwon arrived home and caught you getting out a suspiciously flat box out of the freezer, he simply said:

“I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

“But you love it.” You tried to convince him or seduce him with the promise of trashy food, which he rarely turned down.

“Third time this week, Y/N. It’s only Wednesday today.”

You groaned, hearing the finality in his voice. His face softened upon seeing you pout and put the frozen pizza back to its original place. He quickly shuffled out of his shoes, which he forgot to took off as he only stepped in the apartment when he caught you in your actions. What a relief that the front door was directly looking at the kitchen!

Feeling his arms sneak around your waist, he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and you melted into his hold, forgetting to shut the freezer. He reached out with a scoff, shutting it, then hugging you even tighter.

“What can I say? You make me lose my mind completely,” you tried to save your ass with some cheesy words, that he loved to hear, but would never admit.

“You don’t need me for that to happen,” he replied with a snark comment, but his plump lips pulled into a smile as he dragged them along your jaw. You sighed at the sensation, already feeling your legs weak from what was about to come.

“So what are we gonna have for dinner if not pizza?” You ask with a sigh falling from your lips. He kisses your skin right below your ear, knowing well what he does to you.

“We could cook. I saw some chicken in the freezer the other day.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hm. It’s hiding right behind that pizza you were tempting me with.”

You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, only got lost in the feeling of his lips drawing a line from your ear to your lips with wet kisses. God, he could be such a tease!

“What do we do with it? It takes hours for it to unfreeze.”

“Put it in the microwave.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why? People always do this kind of stuff. They even post it on Youtube as cooking hacks. If it works for them, it will for us too.”

You could only agree to whatever he was saying.

His teeth sank into the soft flesh of your shoulder, then his plush lips soothed the remaining pain. Then his body retreated from yours, getting things into his own hands by grabbing the chicken, unwrapping it from its package, putting it on a plate, and shoving it into the microwave altogether. He played for a while with the settings, not really knowing what would be the best solution for a quicker unfreezing method.

After setting it, his needy hands were on you again; mouth whispering words into your skin.

“It will take time to unfreeze anyway, so what do you think about spending it useful?”

You chuckled at the lame phrasing of his want, but sighed when his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt. An expert tease, that’s what he was.

“I try not to think about you just referring to sex as ‘spending time useful’. Never heard anything that mood killer from you in a long time.”

His pout was obvious when he kissed you, but the expected snarky reply didn’t came. Instead, he put his mouth to a good use, which made you quiver for the next thirty minutes or more so.

The chicken was long forgotten, your mind only filled with anything related to Hyungwon: his scent, the softness in his eyes when he looked down at you as he moved his hips in a loving but satisfying way. You were overwhelmed by him, and you loved it.

“What did you say about me killing the mood, hm?” He nudged your collarbone with his nose after he collapsed on you, and refused to move. He would never say it, but he loved to lay on you, in your embrace after making love.

“Nothing. But sometimes your mouth can be really…”

“Sexy? Sweet? What? Finish what you started to say.”

“Annoying.” You smirked as he looked up at you with mocking disbelief on his face. His dark orbs glinted with mischief, but you were already occupied with something else. More accurately, with the weird, bitter smell that was slowly filling the bedroom. “Do you feel it too?”

“Already, baby? We literally just finished, you should give me at least a few minutes to regain my…”

“No, not that! It’s like… like something is burning.”

That grabbed Hyungwon’s attention too. Lazily pulling himself up, he sniffed in the air, then frowned in confusion. Lost in thoughts realization washed over his features. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“The chicken.”

You were faster; tossing the sheets aside, you ran to the kitchen completely naked. There was smoke coming out of the microwave, making you cough immediately.

Hyungwon followed you. He had decency to put on some pants, and upon seeing the state of your dinner-supposed-to-be, he sighed and went to the hallway for the fire-extinguisher, although there was no signs of fire. But where there’s smoke…

“So, should I put the pizza in the oven now or you want to help cleaning first?” You asked Hyungwon smugly, when you put on some clothes and opened every single window in your apartment.

“Let’s just order something,” he grumbled back, then added a little sheepishly: “I’ll try to bribe Kihyun hyung into cooking us something for the rest of the week.”

“I’m sure he will take pity on us if you tell him what happened tonight.”

His sigh probably could be heard on the streets too as he called a take-out place, and glanced over the kitchen waiting to be cleaned.

#hyungwon #hyungwon fanfic #hyungwon fluff #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fluff

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