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missadangel · 4 months ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

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II. The Letter

"Omnia, quae fiunt, eveniunt ut oportet; et si diligenter observaveris, hoc ita esse invenies." M. Aurelius

“Everything that happens, happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so.”

The carriage shook occasionally as it traveled along the stony roads of the capital. Octavius sat across from you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye while you peered out from under the curtain, eager to see where you were being taken. You had many questions, but you hesitated to ask him directly. In their eyes, you were merely an ordinary woman considered a slave.

As you looked outside, you realized that you were more fortunate than other women in similar situations. Instead of being transported in a carriage like you, they were dragged, beaten, and forcibly taken away in chains.

As the carriage approached the magnificent, rounded building, you couldn't help but gasp in awe at its grandeur. It had to be the Colosseum; you had heard so much about it, but you never expected it to be this enormous. This massive structure was so impressive that it truly pushed the limits of the human imagination. It was fascinating, intimidating, and astonishing.

You stared in wonder at the most intriguing landmark on the streets of Rome until it finally disappeared from view. With a sigh, you turned your gaze in the direction the carriage was heading. After passing insulas, temples, aqueducts, fountains, and gardens, you drove through a large wooded area. The carriage began to sway noticeably as the terrain shifted from stones to dirt and grass. Eventually, a large villa came into view before you.

Unlike the sand-colored villas found in Egypt, this one was nearly white, with a roof the color of crimson herbs. Tall white columns framed the garden entrance, each adorned with intricate figures and reliefs. The beauty of the scene was extraordinary. As you gazed around, it surprised you to see that Octavius had already exited the cart and was waiting for you.

"My lady," he said, extending his hand toward you.

You lifted the hem of your cloak and carefully stepped down from the carriage.

"I am not a lady, sir," you replied, gripping the handle of your bag tightly instead of accepting his hand.

Octavius withdrew his hand and looked at you in confusion.

"I know I didn't want to call you a slave; you are so much more."

On the surface, this burly man had a stern demeanor that commanded respect, but underneath, he was genuinely kind.

"That's all right, sir. I appreciate your kindness. May I ask you something, if I don't overstep my bounds?"

He nodded.

"Why am I here? Why did the General purchased me?"

It was obvious he hadn't cared about you for ten days. Why did he suddenly remember you and bring you to his villa, you wondered.

"Ask him when he arrives. I was only supposed to bring you here. I must leave now, as I have completed my mission."

"Sir Octavius!"

A middle-aged, chubby woman ran up to you, and the way she looked at you made it clear that she knew Octavius very well. She seemed about to ask him something but then turned her head and looked you up and down, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“A slave? Or did the emperors send her as a gift to our master again?”

You took a step back, panic rising in your chest, and turned to Octavius. A gift? What did she mean by that, you wondered.

“No, they didn't send her. The general purchased her from the slaver,” Octavius stated firmly as he strode toward the carriage. “Show her to her room and make her comfortable. I have to go now.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded, then turned her gaze back to you.

But you were staring at the carriage as it sped away, feeling abandoned by his departure.

“Hurry up, girl, come inside with me. The general is almost here, and you need to dress properly,” she commanded, beckoning with her hand.

You complied, passing between the imposing columns and entering the garden, where a large pool with sparkling water awaited you at its center. The villa featured a spacious courtyard and multiple gardens. In the middle of the square pool stood a statue of Neptune, holding a spear in his hand.

Vines curled around the tall white columns, and short trees accompanied them. In front, there was a fountain made of white marble. As you walked behind the woman, you listened to the soothing sound of water flowing from the fountain. It seemed peaceful, yet that was not how you felt inside.

When you entered a small room, the woman called over another girl. Inside were two wooden closets and a large wooden chest. A young girl with red hair came running to you. The other woman grabbed your arm and examined your clothes, her face twisting in disgust.

“Dress this girl quickly; she must be ready before the master arrives.” She touched your hair and ran her fingers through it as if she were combing it. “She looks like she’s had a bath, but her clothes look terrible. Get rid of them when you’re done,” she commanded, clearly in charge due to her age.

The girl opened the closet door and took out a white silk and tulle fabric. You set your bag aside but felt uncomfortable; after all, there was something very important in it.

“Are you nervous?” the girl asked curiously when the other woman left.

“A little, but about what?”

“About spending the night with the General,” she replied, lowering her voice.

You looked at her in shock. “I’m certainly not here for that,” you said, your voice trembling with anger.

The girl let out a small sigh as she helped you get undressed. You felt uneasy, but her kindness and gentleness put you at ease. “He won't touch you anyway,” she said, opening the closet and pulling a piece of fabric into her arms. “He’s never touched any of the girls the emperors have sent to him. They’ve all been sent back the next day."

"Why is that?" Your voice echoed in the small room as you wondered why a man would refuse such an encounter.

The girl laughed at your reaction, and you smiled back shyly. She stood in front of you, draping the wool dress over your shoulders, letting it fall over your breasts, and tying it at the waist. Your arms and neckline were bare, and you instinctively covered your wrists with your hands, but it was clear she didn’t care about the bruise. “Nobody's sure, but we think it might be because of his wife, whom he divorced a long time ago. He’s a noble and decent man. I’m sure he’ll treat you well, just like he treats all of us.”

"He bought me, not emperors," you stated assertively, tugging at the belt around your waist to feel more comfortable.

"Did he? That's even stranger. He hasn't purchased any new slaves for a long time." The girl touched your hair, running her fingers through it and gathering a strand on the right side before securing it with a thin hairpin. "But perhaps it's because you are so beautiful," she said, smiling warmly at you. "Where are you from?"

"I grew up in Alexandria, but as far as I know, I am Roman—an orphan," you replied confidently. "You don't look like a Roman, though."

The girl smiled, but her eyes revealed a hint of sadness. "I was taken as a captive during the war when I was fourteen, but I tried to escape, and the slaver nearly beat me to death." She took a deep breath and continued, “I would have died on those cold cobblestones if he hadn’t been kind enough to buy me and let me live in his villa here.”

You suddenly realized that your story didn't seem as grim compared to hers. You felt a wave of sympathy for her.

"I am sorry," you said sincerely.

She had a warm smile and kind brown eyes. Her hair was a mix of red and orange, and she had freckles on her face. She was friendly and one of the nicest people you would meet in a long time. She touched your shoulder with a comforting smile.

"The General isn't as harsh and ruthless as he seems. If he brought you here, he must like you. You're lucky."

"But he's never met me," you murmured. There was no circumstance in which he could have liked you. In fact, he almost broke your wrist because he thought you were the enemy.

That's why you were worried. You wanted to believe he was a good man, but your instincts told you otherwise.

"I'm Norell, by the way," she said, still smiling.

"I've never heard that name before," you replied, raising your eyebrows.

"It means 'from the north.' I'm from Scandinavia. Do you have a name?"

You wanted to tell her the name that your uncle and his wife had given you, but the woman from earlier came over and scolded you both for stalling. When she tried to take your bag, you held on tightly and kept it in your arms.

She frowned at you and pointed to the bag. "It looks old and dirty. Put it where you’ll be staying, out of my sight. Norell, show her where she’ll be staying. I have to check the kitchen.”

"Yes, Tullia," Norell replied as she led you out of the room. As you walked into another room, you touched your new clothes. These garments were ordinary attire for any slave, but for you, they felt unusual. You had always worn men's clothes when you were with your uncle and had never let your hair hang over your shoulders outside the house. That's why you almost liked dressing this way, despite feeling exposed with your neck and shoulders bare.

"This way," Norell said, pointing to a room that was slightly larger than the last one. Inside, there were two mattresses, a large wooden chest, and a small closet in the corner. She gestured towards one of the mattresses against the wall.

"You can sleep here."

Although it wasn't the most comfortable option, it was still far better than the beds in the Valetudinarium. You sat down and placed your bag under the blanket while she observed you with curiosity.

"It's what remains of my family," you explained.

"Don't worry, I would never touch your things," she assured you. You trusted her, even though you had just met. However, you had promised your uncle about the letter, so you carefully tucked it under the mattress when she left the room. You were eager to open it, but you wanted to ensure that you were completely alone first.

As you sat there, you began to realize how tired you were. You weren't sure if it was the effect of traveling by ship, but your head felt as if it was spinning. Your body felt on the verge of collapsing when you noticed a cat outside the window.

Having grown up in Egypt, you had a cat in your old house that looked just like this one. She was dark black with beautiful green eyes. You called her over with your hand, but she dashed ahead towards another garden in the courtyard, so you excitedly ran after her.

As you followed her at a brisk pace, you realized you couldn't fit through the gap she could, but fortunately, the wooden gate to the separate garden was open. It was a beautiful garden filled with various herbs, plants, and flowers. You distinctly remember using the hypericum (St. John's wort) plant with your uncle on many occasions. This medicinal plant has healing properties.

You sat on the grass and picked a bunch of hypericum. Crushing the leaves with your fingertips, you rubbed the liquid that came out onto the bruises on your wrist. As you did this, the cat brushed her tail against your feet. You picked her up, settled her on your lap, and began stroking her head, feeling her soft fur beneath your fingers, which brought you a sense of peace. However, you were exhausted and could not keep your eyes open, so you lay down and closed them.

As the general arrived at his villa, the sun was getting ready to bid farewell to the capital of Rome. He had barely taken a seat after stepping ashore. Yes, he was tired, but he also felt an indescribable excitement. He struggled to recall when he had felt this way for such a long time, but the memory eluded him. He had been traveling for months, heading to Egypt to quell a rebellion. Although he had finally succeeded, the journey had drained him. To make matters worse, he had been assassinated and wounded on his way back, and one of his soldiers had mutinied while he was recovering—challenges that would overwhelm an ordinary man. He touched his wound through his leather armor and felt grateful to the one who had healed him. Despite his exhaustion, he was determined to meet this girl.

Tullia greeted him with a bright smile as she stepped toward him. “Sir! You’re home at last! I sacrificed three pigs to Mars to ensure your safe return!”

Acacius smiled back at her and stepped out of the carriage, his eyes fixed on the garden of his villa. “Tullia, the girl Octavius brought here today—I want to see her now.” His voice was firm and impatient.

“Yes, master, she is inside. Come in,” Tullia replied.

Acacius strode into the garden, leaving his squire struggling to keep up. He looked around but couldn't find what he was searching for. “I don’t see her, Tullia. Where is she?”

Tullia swallowed hard. “Master, she was here. I’ll find her,” she said as she started to leave, but Acacius stopped her by raising his hand.

“Send her to my room and prepare my bath at once,” he ordered, heading for the stairs that led to his chambers.

Everyone mobilized to find you at once and prepare their master's bath.

Acacius's squire entered his room after him and helped him remove his armor. Once he was finished, the squire left. Acacius took off his armbands and took a deep breath, now wearing only his burgundy tunic. He felt relieved but still impatient, so he decided to step out onto the balcony to take in the scenery. As he gazed at the beautiful city in the distance, he thought about you and smiled to himself, recalling his first experience of falling in love. He had believed he would never feel that way again, especially since he had turned his back on love. Acacius was convinced that Cupid, the son of Venus, would never grant him a new love. For so long, he had regarded himself as an unlucky lover, seemingly punished by Mars, the god of war. Mars had gifted him with the ability to fight, and he wondered if that was because love could be his weakness.

He was about to find out.

Just as he was about to walk back inside, something in the garden below caught his attention. He saw a young girl with golden hair lying on the lush green grass in the garden that bordered his chambers.

Acacius made his way down the stairs, his heart racing with excitement and curiosity. As he reached the last step and drew closer to you, he felt a twinge of disappointment to see your eyes closed. He was eager to see the eyes he had admired in his tent long ago. Leaning in, he gazed at the beautiful girl who was sleeping peacefully, just as you had been waiting for him then.

He looked at your wrist, gently grasped it, and noticed the bruises. His fingers traced the purple spots, as if they were meant to fit perfectly there.

You felt pressure on your wrist where the bruise was located. You opened your eyes—not because of the pain, but because you had already been dreaming about that moment. When you realized that his face was only a few inches from yours, you widened your eyes in surprise, wondering if you were still dreaming. His dark brown eyes seemed to capture yours, making it impossible to look away. Then, his perfectly shaped lips curled into a wide smile.

"So it was you," he said softly.

You were left speechless. As you tried to rise to your feet, he gently grasped your shoulders, maintaining eye contact with you.

"I made a mistake. I apologize," you mumbled.

"A mistake? You healed me, so there's no mistake and certainly no reason to apologize," he replied with a smirk. He stood up and held out his hand. Despite your initial hesitation, you took his hand and got to your feet.

"I shouldn’t have slept here like this," you admitted, feeling embarrassed as you shook out your dress to remove the leaves and dirt.

“It was such a treat to watch,” he said, noticing your surprised expression. He turned and began walking toward the stairs. "Come," he beckoned, not asking but commanding.

You followed him without complaint, though your tension had increased. Acacius entered his room and waited for you to come in. As you stepped in from the balcony, you noticed the armor he had just taken off to your right. Beyond that was a desk and a chair, followed by a small table with two chairs. In the opposite corner, there was a large bed and a closet.

Tullia entered with a tray full of food, knocking on the door first. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw you.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. Where were you?" she asked.

Before you could respond, Acacius ordered, "Leave us alone and let me know when the bath is ready."

"Yes, general," she replied, casting you a quick glance before leaving the room.

"Are you hungry?" he asked while pouring wine into a cup.

You shook your head no, but it was a lie; your eyes were fixed on the food, and you swallowed hard. He smirked, sat down in a chair, and took a sip of wine. "Sit," he said, indicating the chair opposite him with a gesture.

When you didn't move, he frowned. "I know you're hungry. Come, sit," he commanded.

You made your way over and took a seat directly across from him, consciously steering clear of his gaze.

"Eat," he commanded again, pointing to the spoon.

You took a spoonful of food you had never seen before, but it looked delicious. As soon as you put it in your mouth and swallowed, you felt it settle in your empty stomach. Realizing how hungry you were, you quickly took another bite, surprised by your own eagerness.

He watched you closely, his gaze lingering on your hands. With a swift movement, he gently grabbed your other hand and placed it in his palm, as if measuring its size. "These fingers are too thin to be a healer," he muttered, looking at you. "How did you become a medicus? It must have been tough for you as a woman."

As you swallowed the morsel, he poured another glass of wine and handed it to you. You were taken aback by his unexpected politeness but accepted the cup and took a quick sip.

"My uncle taught me everything I know, sir," you asserted firmly.

"That man, the medicus, was your uncle?" he inquired.

"Yes, he was," you replied, feeling a renewed sting at the mention of him. He studied your face, trying to decipher your emotions.

"May the Gods bless his soul and grant him sustenance in Elysium. Though I never met him, his knowledge is the reason I am still alive today. I will be grateful to him until my last breath."

"You're not his slave, then. Who are you?" he asked, meeting your gaze with unwavering intensity and waiting for your response.

"I am Aya, an orphan girl who was found on the banks of the Nile when I was little. I was raised by the man I call 'uncle,'" you stated confidently, though he appeared perplexed.

Acacius leaned back, still focused on you. "Aya," he murmured, testing the name on his lips. "It's a name I have never heard. I want to know its meaning." He crossed his arms and smiled.

"This name was given to me by my uncle and his late wife. It means 'miracle,' signifying that they believed I was sent to them by the gods." You met his gaze directly, asserting your thoughts. "I think it’s—"

"It's beautiful," he interjected, completing your sentence in his own way. You took another sip from your cup, steady in your confidence, though you felt the weight of his gaze.

“You mentioned that you are an orphan? You don’t know anything about your mother or father? Has your uncle discovered why they left you in the river?”

You shook your head, genuinely unsure, but he didn’t seem satisfied with that response. He set his cup down on the table, stood up, and stepped closer to you.

“Your uncle, or the man who found you, raised you as a medicus until this age. You probably had to wear men’s clothing all the time. He allowed you to live as a man, not as a woman. Moreover, he never wanted you to marry a man.” You noticed he emphasized the word "marry" with a distinct tone. It felt as if he were questioning you, which startled you as he knelt beside you. “It’s as if he’s hiding you from something or someone.”

He was waiting for your answer, but his face was so close that it made you tense up. You needed a moment before responding.

"I was happy helping others and curing them as a medicus, sir. He never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to," you said with confidence and sincerity, and he could hear it in your tone.

He stood up abruptly. “I see,” he murmured, still deep in thought. Just then, there was a knock at the door. The slaves informed him that his bath was ready.

"I want you to accompany me," he said suddenly, a smile spreading across his face that made your heart race. You were trying to figure out the best way to decline his offer gently and respectfully.

"Sir, I—"

“Since I’m so tired, I would like your help to bathe. As my medicus, you should also check my wound, right?”

"That makes me your medicus as well as your servant," you replied, frowning at him.

He approached you with a bold move that made you jump, but a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "I'm going to have to get completely undressed for both, so…"

Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to look away, but you knew he was right—and you hated it.

He opened the door and gestured for you to follow him, you took a deep breath before going after him. Norell smiled when she noticed you, but you couldn't smile back, following him to the bathhouse made you nervous.

As you moved from one courtyard to the inner one, the distinctive smells indicated that the kitchen was nearby. It’s because of the hot water circulation, just opposite the kitchen was the balneum (small bath house). There was no separate bath house in your uncle's small house, so you had to go to the Egyptian public bath house three or four times a week to bathe.

Tullia pushed the door open for both of you to enter. Acacius instructed her to leave you two alone and then closed the door behind you. The hot bath was ready, and the balneum was filled with the scents of various oils and essences, which dissipated into the steam rising from the water. As someone well-versed in herbs, you could easily identify the scents of different flowers by their aromas.

When you saw Acacius heading toward the marble bathtub, you clenched the fabric of your dress. It was scorching hot inside, and you were sweating profusely. He turned to you, and from the look in his eyes, you knew he was asking you to approach him. You obeyed, trying your best not to think about anything else but his wound. He took your fingers and guided them to the hem of his burgundy tunic, urging you to grasp it. He watched you patiently as you attempted to stay calm, lifting the hem of his tunic to inspect his injury. He seemed to take pleasure in noticing your tension.

“I need to take it off completely. Can you help me?" he asked in a soft, gentle voice.

You took a deep breath and removed his tunic with trembling hands, letting it drop to the wet floor, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely naked in front of you. You focused on his abdomen where his wound was, determined not to look down at his lower body. As your fingers traced his abdomen to assess the injury, his eyes roamed over your face, admiring your beauty.

“It is almost healed on the surface, sir, but it may take a little longer to fully heal from the inside. If you experience any pain or inflammation, I might need to prepare a herbal ointment,” you said, your gaze locking with his.

He leaned in closer, his face just inches away from yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his slightly parted lips. The air between you was thick and steamy, mingling with the sheen of sweat that clung to your skin and made your dress feel slightly damp against your body. His warm breath fluttered against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and causing your heart to race uncontrollably. Every nerve in your body seemed to awaken, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the strong pull to surrender to the magnetic connection between you. But as the intensity of the moment heightened, you managed to summon the strength to pull yourself back, collecting your thoughts and reminding yourself of the boundaries you still needed to maintain.

Acacius chuckled, turned toward the tub, and settled in. The water rose with his weight, and the flowers floating on the surface brushed against the edge. He seemed to relax, throwing his head back and closing his eyes while making a gesture with his hand.

“Could you rub my back a little? Perhaps your soft, healing hands can alleviate some of the pain,” he requested.

"That sounds more like the work of a slave than a medicus," you muttered. He ignored your comment, but you could see his lips curl into a half-smile.

As you touched his shoulders with your fingers, he sighed. You tried not to care, but he seemed strangely pleased, a soft moan escaping his lips as you rubbed in gentle strokes. Your eyes traced the scars on his body, wondering how he got them.

“The god Asclepius must have bestowed his healing powers upon you," he purred. "How can I repay the owner of these fingers that healed me?”

You stopped rubbing his back and glared at him through his partially gray, curly hair.

“I wish you would set me free," you said, biting your lower lip, wondering if that was too much to ask.

Acacius opened his eyes. "You have no family to return to. Do you truly wish to go back home and live all alone?"

He was right. Even if you went back, there would be no uncle or anyone else to live with. You despised facing that truth. He turned his head towards you, asking, "Shall I give you a chance to choose?"

You tilted your head to look at him, the steamy air making your throat dry.

“If you don't want to be my slave, why not live here as my medicus? I am a soldier, after all; I may need your help in the future.” As he turned his body fully towards you in the tub, some of the water spilled over and soaked the hem of your dress. “Wouldn't you stay here to help me heal?”

“But I am a woman, sir; I cannot be a medicus. No one would refer to me as such.”

“As long as you’re living here, that’s how you will be addressed,” he said, his tone warm and convincing.

"But will I still be your slave outside of this house?"

“You will, yes.”

“Will you set me free one day?”

“No,” he replied loudly, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls.

When you sighed and pursed your lips, his large hand cupped your chin, his brown eyes almost begging you to stay. Slowly, he slid his fingers from your neck to your shoulder, moving towards the fabric of your dress as he tried to gauge your reaction. You grabbed his hand and stopped him just as he was about to pull the fabric over your shoulder. "I choose to be your medicus, not your slave, sir," you declared.

“Very well,” Acacius snickered, now grabbing your wrist instead. “It seems to be healing,” he said, gently rubbing your bruise with his thumb. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel angry; you liked the way his big, strong fingers touched you, as if only they could truly heal it.

“I won't touch you against your will,” he assured you, then pulled his hand away and lay back, closing his eyes again. “You may leave now,” he said coldly, as if trying to calm himself.

You felt grateful, yet you couldn't ignore the absence of his touch on your skin. Nevertheless, you did as he asked, leaving him alone in the balneum as you stepped outside. The fresh air hit your almost wet body, making you shiver, just as Norell approached you with dry, clean clothes in her arms.

“Is he coming out?” she asked.

“No, he told me to leave him alone,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand while ignoring your still-racing heart.

That night, in your new room under the roof of your new home, you waited patiently for Norell to fall asleep after having a long talk with her. However, your eyes grew so heavy that you could no longer keep them open.

You had planned to open the letter when you woke up, but time slipped away from you. It wasn't easy feeling alone in such a large villa.

That morning, you noticed the General leaving in a rush, making his chambers the ideal place to be. No one would be able to enter his room while he was away, and this was your only chance. You knew he wouldn't return until late evening, giving you plenty of time to open the letter before then.

Uncertainty filled your mind as you considered what to expect. Could your true family be wealthy or even royal? If so, why had they pushed you away or abandoned you? What did the previous emperor's seal mean? Why did he use his own seal on this letter? Was it common for him to do so with every letter? So many possibilities and questions raced through your mind, yet you were tired of thinking. You made up your mind to open the letter as soon as possible, discover the truth, and move on.

In the villa, everyone was busy with their morning chores, making it easy for you to slip away unnoticed. You were already on a mission to collect dirty laundry and bring it downstairs to wash, providing you with a believable excuse if anyone caught you.

You entered the General's room, quickly scanned your surroundings, and placed the dirty laundry you had gathered into the laundry basket you were holding. Setting the basket aside, you sat down on the floor next to it. Once you were certain that no one was coming, you pulled out the letter you had hidden between your chest and the fabric of your dress and began to read.

You took a deep breath and carefully untied the rope around the letter, ensuring the seal remained mostly intact. Then, you lifted the letter, which belonged to the previous emperor, Septimius Severus, and opened it. The writing inside was neatly penned in clear handwriting.

"My dearest child,

I write to you, my beloved daughter, bestowed with golden hair and hazel eyes. The irises of your eyes exhibit a soft brown hue with a greenish tint, evoking the nascent growth of spring.

As I gaze into your eyes, I envision the beautiful and prosperous future that awaits Rome. You provide me with joy and fortitude, empowering me to realize this vision. It is my sincere aspiration to ensure your happiness and to witness your growth and prosperity.

It has been a considerable amount of time since I lost your mother, my esteemed wife, the illustrious Paccia Marciana. I have not yet fully adapted to her absence; however, I felt it essential to remarry in order to secure an heir. I do not wish to offend you, my dear daughter, and I implore you not to misinterpret my intentions. Regrettably, I believe it may not be prudent for you to remain in Rome. Julia lacks the understanding that your mother possessed, and my son Caracalla exhibits even less compassion. His temperament is concerning, and I fear that upon my ascension to Elysium, he may perceive you as a threat and inflict harm upon you.

I cannot allow any harm to come to you in memory of your mother, hence I must send you away from them and from this environment. I have made arrangements for your care with my old friend Vibius, the physician from my youth, who resides in Egypt. I am confident that you will be safe under his stewardship. It is imperative for your well-being to be as far away from here as possible.

I earnestly hope that Caracalla will govern Rome with wisdom. Although I harbor uncertainties regarding his capability, I sincerely wish to believe in his potential.

I trust that when you read this letter as a young woman, you will comprehend the reasoning behind my decision to send you away. You are my firstborn child, my only daughter with spring-like eyes and golden hair, the first of the name Septimia Aurelia, who brought blessings to Rome upon your birth. You will always hold a special place in my heart, dear child.

Your father, Imperator Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus."

You read each sentence again and again, making sure you hadn’t misread anything. But no, you had absorbed every word correctly. Closing your eyes and throwing your head back, you realized it was real, not just a figment of your imagination. You sat there, detached from time and reality, as tears rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the letter you held with trembling hands. Your life began to flash before your eyes, piece by piece: the lush green fields where you used to run joyfully as a little girl, and the people you called uncle and aunt who raised you with love, always protecting you from the outside world, keeping you away from others. Your uncle had taken you on as an apprentice when you were very young, teaching you everything he knew, buying you flashy clothes on the condition that you only wore them at home when you wanted to, and insisting that you always wear a cloak when you went out in public. All these memories completed the picture of your past and reminded you of where you truly belonged.

You wished you had never opened the letter, never anticipating that the truth would hurt so deeply and leave you feeling so helpless. You had no home to return to; your Empress mother and Emperor father were no longer alive. In their place were your Emperor brothers and their mother—your stepmother. Your father had warned you about them in no uncertain terms.

The word "Emperor" now held a new meaning for you. Everything you knew, everything you learned, and everything you experienced felt different now. Yet you were still the same person. It was unreasonable to expect you to be anyone else, regardless of what your name was.

As you wiped away your tears, you heard voices outside and quickly folded the letter back into its original shape. You didn’t have time to hide it. Your first instinct was to place it in the general's wooden chest, which was already full of papyrus, empty envelopes, and various papers. You planned to retrieve it later.

“What are you doing here?”

You were taken aback by the sound of the General's voice. He stood in the doorway, looking at you curiously. He wore an all-white attire, white leather armor, and a white shawl that fluttered like dove wings in the wind behind him, all embroidered with gold. At that moment, you forgot your shock; he looked breathtaking. Suddenly, you realized you hadn't answered his question, so you quickly picked up the laundry basket.

“I’m here to pick up the laundry, sir,” you replied, bowing your head in hopes that he wouldn’t be suspicious.

“I thought you chose to be a medicus and not a slave,” he said as he approached you. “Let the others do it, come with me now.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the room with a serious look on his face, hurried down the stairs, and stopped to call Norell out as he observed your clothes. "Dress her properly," he ordered.

While you were trying to figure out what was happening, Norell took your hand and led you to the dressing room to fulfill his request. She opened the wardrobe, removed several white fabrics, and placed them on a chair in the room. Curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn’t help but ask about the clothes, which were different from those you wore last time.

“Why am I wearing these?” you inquired.

“Today’s a bit special." You were startled to hear the General's voice just outside the door. “And the color of the dress you’re wearing has to match mine,” he added.

You thought to yourself, how could you possibly match his charm? It just didn’t seem possible.

You didn’t mind being naked in front of Norell, but the fact that the General was just outside the door made you feel a bit nervous. Norell sensed your unease and giggled, then helped you into a white tunic followed by a peplos (a long dress) of the same color, and finally draped a gold-embroidered palla over your shoulders. She tied it around your slim waist and positioned the other part over your head. It was your first time wearing this kind of dress, and you felt as if the wish you had made as a little girl had finally come true.

Norell then combed your hair, first letting it fall downwards slightly side-parted, and then combing it again before braiding it. She took a piece from the front left and twisted it around the back of your head. To secure the twist inside the braid, she inserted a wire barrette and finished the braid, letting it hang over one shoulder. When she was done, she looked at you and smiled. “You look beautiful. Now all that’s left are the accessories.”

The General opened the door and looked you up and down before gently grabbing your arm. He gestured to Norell, who soon returned with a box containing a gold bracelet and assorted jewelry that produced a tinkling sound as she moved.

“Sir, these don’t look like something a slave would wear,” you said, surprised.

Acacius quickly placed the bracelets on your upper arms and wrists. “My slave wears whatever I want,” he replied firmly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment while a confident smile crossed his face. You felt your cheeks flush, but the term "slave" bothered you more than ever. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry with the General, especially not when he was dressed like this.

“But where exactly are we going?” you asked.

“To the place where the ceremony will take place, then to the Colosseum. Come now, put on your sandals; we have to hurry.”

Norell appeared beside you and lifted your foot, helping you put on the sandals despite your reluctance. “Looks pretty,” he said, gently brushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen on your forehead. You couldn't tell if he was in a hurry or just impatient, but he wrapped his arm around you and quickly led you out of the courtyard.

“I saw you leaving this morning,” you said as Acacius adjusted the shawl he was sitting on to feel more comfortable. He cleared his throat. “That’s right,” he replied, looking at you. “I didn't want you to miss a day like this, so I came back for you.” How could he be such a charming, gentle, yet dangerous fighter? You wondered how all your anger and resentment toward him had dissipated so quickly.

“I'm grateful, sir,” you said sincerely, and he smiled in response.

As the carriage navigated the alleys of Capitoline Hill, you noticed the streets were as crowded as they had been yesterday. It seemed as if no one had returned home to rest for the night. When the carriage approached Via Sacra Street, you realized you were mistaken; it was even busier than the day before. In Egypt, such crowds gathered only during special occasions or religious festivals. However, you were unaccustomed to being in a crowd, walking freely in the streets, especially while dressed as a woman.

Despite having resolved the questions that had troubled you since childhood, you still felt unfulfilled. It wasn't that you held resentment toward anyone—your father and uncle had done their best to help you—but you couldn't shake the feeling of being wronged. Somewhere deep within, a voice kept telling you that something was amiss, and it grew louder with each passing moment. Your uncle's words echoed in your mind: “You’re going to have to choose.”

But what were you going to choose? Would you go to your emperor brothers, explain everything, seek their official recognition, and risk being killed as a result? Or would you return to Egypt as if nothing had happened and live as you always had, far away from everyone and everything?

“What makes you think so much? I wonder,” the general said, interrupting your thoughts. In an instant, all your worries vanished like a cloud of dust. You almost forgot that you were in the carriage with him, sitting opposite you like a statue of a god.

“I'm a little nervous, sir,” you admitted honestly.

“Are you nervous about seeing the Colosseum for the first time?” he asked.

He was right; that was one reason for your anxiety. However, the true source of your nervousness was the anticipation of seeing your half-brothers in person.

“Yes,” you said, clenching the fabric of your dress.

“We'll arrive after the ceremony. I would love to have you with me, but the slaves and others will be watching from the stands above. I could ask the emperors for special permission for you to stand beside me, but I’m concerned that your beauty will inevitably attract their attention.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of humor in his voice. This would have worked in your favor if you hadn't been feeling uneasy about facing your stepbrothers.

“Sir, it's really not a problem. I'll watch from where I'm supposed to be,” you replied with a half-smile.

“The more I can keep you away from them, the better,” he murmured softly, peering out from behind the curtain. “Here we are.”

When the carriage stopped, the crowd's enthusiasm swelled. Acacius stood up, his expression serious, and reached for your hand, clasping it tightly.

“It is no longer possible for me to hold your hand and walk side by side. You can follow me at a distance.” He gently stroked your fingers with his thumb before withdrawing his hand and stepping out of the carriage.

You watched as he exited, his shawl billowing in the wind behind him, trailing gracefully to the steps of the carriage.

“Sir!” Octavius ran toward him through the crowd, cheerful. You observed the two of them from behind, their backs turned as they engaged in conversation while the crowd chanted the General's name. Then they both turned their heads back toward you; Acacius nodded for you to come out. No one was looking at you anyway; all the attention was on him. You took a deep breath and climbed down from the carriage.

Acacius and Octavius made sure you got out and then began walking forward. As you walked behind them, keeping a respectful distance, you could hear the crowd talking and chanting. You couldn't help but wonder if, one day, if something happened and you sat on the throne as the emperor's daughter, would they cheer for you like that? You shook your head, trying to dismiss the absurd thought.

Acacius and Octavius were joined by other soldiers, and it was evident from the crowd that people from various social classes were present. Among them were the wealthy, nobles, dignitaries, craftsmen, and even slaves. As you surveyed the scene, you realized that your clothing felt strange; it was almost devoid of jewelry and appeared quite ordinary. However, unlike in Egypt, slaves here could accompany their masters or enter the Colosseum.

The crowd also included women of nobility, who regarded you with piercing gazes. At first, you were perplexed by their scrutiny, but as you examined them more closely, you recognized the underlying emotion: jealousy. In Egypt, you had been overlooked, merely seen as a thin young boy in an unusual cloak. But here in Rome, you were a beautifully dressed young girl, the envy of even the noblewomen. Life should be filled with miracles and surprises.

The Roman triumph was a civil ceremony and religious rite of ancient Rome, held to publicly celebrate and sanctify the success of a military commander who had led Roman forces to victory in the service of the state or, in some historical traditions, one who had successfully completed a foreign war.

The venue for the ceremony was the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, one of the most important temples in the capital. Most Roman festivals were calendar fixtures, tied to the worship of particular deities. While the triumphal procession culminated at Jupiter's temple on the far end of the Via Sacra (sacred road) in the Roman Forum, the procession itself, attendant feasting, and public games promoted the general's status and achievement. In effect, the general was close to being "king for a day", and possibly close to divinity.

Accompanied by red rose petals thrown in his honor, the General ascended the white marble stairs of the temple with quick steps, shining like pearls in the sunlight. At that moment, you immediately recognized them—it was hard not to—your half-brothers, the emperors, approaching the General. They were dressed in white and gold, just like him. From their appearance, it was easy to tell which one was Geta and which was Caracalla.

The General greeted them with a hand placed on his chest, and Geta gently placed a golden crown of laurel leaves on his head. As the crowd shouted and cheered with enthusiasm, you suddenly felt a deep pain in your chest. You deserved to be with them; you wanted to be with them—it was your birthright. But your father, the emperor, had taken you away. Was it because you were not a boy? He had asked you not to blame him and not to be angry, but you couldn't help it. Watching them from a distance made you realize that you would have to choose—if not now, then someday.

Caracalla raised his hands towards the people and spoke, and you wondered if your father's warning about him had been correct. His hair was the same color as yours, but his face was different. His eyes were wide with excitement and eagerness. He didn’t seem so bad at first; after all, it felt wrong to judge a person at first glance.

You soon noticed some tension between him and the priest next to him. Geta raised his hand to silence the priest, which was rude and disrespectful. Clearly, your half-brother was not a man of religious tradition.

“Now that our ceremony is finally over, are we ready to watch the big games in honor of our glorious General Acacius?”

The whole crowd let out a roar of excitement, and it was clear that everyone was just as pumped as he was.

“Then let's head to the Colosseum!” he shouted, pointing in the direction of the iconic structure with his right hand. “The gladiators are waiting!” Caracalla joined in, their voices blending and echoing throughout Capitoline Hill.

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh as you noticed the General’s forced smile while he applauded. It was clear he was annoyed with them. Battling a mix of emotions, you realized you had overlooked the general; yet, if anyone captivated you, it was him. With a golden crown atop his head, he resembled more than just a general, even an emperor—he was like a God, the son of Mars, Marcus himself, living up to his name in every way. His grandeur lit up the space around you, sending a radiance that first dazzled your eyes and then sent vibrations deep into your chest.

As your heart raced like never before, you found yourself wondering if this was what love truly felt like. If it wasn’t love, then what else could it be? You were left guessing, having never received guidance on such matters. In that moment, you realized that you wanted to be this man’s slave for life, wrapped in secrecy about your identity.

As the crowd moved away from the temple toward the Colosseum, you followed along, trying to keep the general and Octavius in sight, but it was challenging. People hurried past, bumping into you. Wanting to avoid getting lost, you decided to head in another direction, pushing through the throngs of people as you approached the temple and searched for him.

Suddenly, you spotted the emperors and the general traveling down the road in a chariot. Just as you were about to run after them, a group of senators descended the stairs. Your eyes met those of a dark-skinned senator who looked at you with wide eyes. Feeling uneasy, you quickly looked away and blended back into the crowd as he approached.

However, more people were coming from the road, so you turned left and slipped behind the temple to hide. Once you reached the corner wall, you glanced back and saw no one following you. Just as you were about to continue down the other road, someone called out to you. You initially ignored him, but then he shouted your name, “Wait, Aurelia!”

You froze in shock. That was your real name, and you had believed everyone who knew it was dead. Curiosity overtook you, and you turned your head to see the man from earlier running toward you. You gripped the fabric of your dress, feeling extremely nervous. The man was panting as he approached.

"Is it really you?" he asked.

You swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you have mistaken me for someone else."

The man looked you in the eye and smiled confidently. "I would recognize those eyes anywhere; it’s you." His gaze lingered on your hair. "Septimia Aurelia, do you have any idea how much I’ve searched for you, my lady?"

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment :) thank you all <3

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wheeboo · 9 months ago

Text

sleeping beauty | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which you fall asleep on your boyfriend's lap. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, just him <3 WARNINGS. terms of endearment WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested by @boorines: 2k!!! congratulations on the milestone rania <33 i have a teeny req for your event! seungkwan + #38 from list one! super super excited to read all your work 💗 - #38: "Well, hello, sleeping beauty. You fell asleep on me."

notes: mick !!! my fellow lovely amazing boosadan tysm for requesting i hope u enjoy this <33

join the 2k celebration!

You like to think that your boyfriend's voice is simply a gift from the heavens.

Not just his voice too, of course, but solely just... him. You don't think you'll ever understand the way how time seems to slow down when he speaks. It's like the world hits mute, the background noise fading away until all that's left is the low rumble in his chest when he laughs, or the way his voice dips ever so slightly when he whispers against your ear.

It's a superpower, perhaps𑁋you really consider it at this point. He's magical. Your boyfriend is woven of magic, with this ability to bottle up time with just a smile and a nonsensical ramble. It makes you wonder if maybe you should bottle him up and keep him close so the world can always feel like this: a little slower, a little more yours.

All you can remember is Seungkwan talking about something that you can't exactly recall. It was probably about something at work, or maybe it was about that new dumpling place he wanted to take you out to this weekend. Whatever it was, the details were blurred all around the edges, and you find yourself flickering in and out of a state of peaceful bliss as the warm, afternoon breeze settles around the two of you.

The feeling of his hand carding through your hair isn't helping at all, too.

Your head is laying on his lap, your legs sprawled out lazily on a picnic blanket in the middle of this small park you frequent at, the air carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and pine all around you. Rays of sunlight dapple through the leaves of the enormous tree looming above, painting patterns and shapes of warmth on your skin.

You can feel your eyelids getting heavier by the minutes that pass, and fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there is becoming harder and harder. But you can't help it𑁋not when Seungkwan is practically feeding into the urge, with his voice that is somehow a natural lullaby and his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"...and when I tell you he literally tripped on his shoelaces during practice! We all couldn't stop laughing! Oh my gosh, baby, you should've been there. He had to practice the dance shoeless since his laces were all tangled…”

You manage to crack an eye open to look at Seungkwan, seeing that his gaze is out towards the distant pond as he continues to ramble animatedly, strands of his hair getting caught in the breeze.

You love it when he talks; he always seems so happy when he does. And you could listen to him go on and on, especially about things that make his eyes crinkle at the corners like that and his nose scrunching to fight off a laugh.

There's a sleepy, incoherent mumble that leaves your lips. Your eyes flutter back to a close, the world slowly closing in around you, and the sound of Seungkwan's voice fading into a warm, comforting hum.

"Okay, but remember that pizza place down a few blocks from our place? I heard it also got revamped into this new boba café, so I would totally be down to go there right after we..."

The moment Seungkwan's eyes fall back down to you, he shuts his mouth right away, and it hardly takes a second for his chest to suddenly feel so full of adoration that threatens to spill over the rim of his heart. His lips purse together before melting into a soft smile at the sight of you looking so peaceful right under his nose.

"Gosh, do my stories bore you that much?" he asks jokingly, yet carefully to not wake you.

He continues to peer down at you, huffing out a quiet sigh of contentment. You just look so soft right now, with your mouth parted slightly and your chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath that leaves you. When a single strand of hair tickles upon your cheek, Seungkwan brushes it away lightly with his thumb.

He leans back on his hands, a subtle pout forming at his mouth.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" Seungkwan says, tilting his head to the sight to get a better look at you. "How in the world did I get so lucky?"

His fingers toy gently with the fabric of your shirt as he lets a few moments of silence roll through. The corners of your mouth seem to twitch at his touch, and he swears some sort of sleepy grin appears at your face. But then your lips drift back apart in a soft sigh.

Seungkwan lets out a sudden exhale he's been holding in.

"But then you always say something about how we were both lucky that we met each other," he continues on. "and while yeah, that may be true. I just... I can't help but think I'm the luckier one, because you're you, and if someone were to think they weren't lucky to have you in their life, then they're stupid."

His eyes continue to wander from you and out towards the sky, watching the sun beginning to set across the horizon.

"Do you... ever think about the future?" Seungkwan asks almost hesitantly, voice lowering a smidge at the vulnerability cracking through. "I know you hate thinking about it. But when you think of me... if you think of me being there with you, does it, um... make it feel less scary?"

He wants to mentally facepalm himself for wording it like that, or for asking it in general. Yet the question seemed to have been burning a hole through his tongue for a while now, and it's all deciding to tumble out.

Seungkwan leans down again, brushing another stray hair from your forehead. The remnants of the setting sun cast an orange glow on your features, making you look even more ethereal than usual.

"It's definitely not as scary when I think about it, because... you're in it." He chuckles to himself at how absolutely cheesy that sounded. "Could you imagine our house together? I know you've always wanted a bigger bed for all your stuffed animals and a bookshelf for your books. We could even paint the walls that colour you showed me on Pinterest the other day..."

The thought of one day having an entire house for just the two of you makes his cheeks burn with anticipation, like he's watching it all unfold in his mind. He knows he's imagining way farther ahead than ever before, but the future suddenly feels so easy and possible with you by his side.

Seungkwan steals another careful glance at you, as if he's waiting for an answer he knows he probably won't hear. When the silence starts to feel heavy, he sucks in another deep breath.

"I just hope that wherever you'll be in ten, twenty years from now... that you're happy," he says. "and that maybe, just maybe, you'll be happy with me, if you wanted to, of course."

As the uncertainty lingers in the air, the sound of gravel cracking snaps his attention away for a second. Seungkwan turns his head to catch the sight of a nearby family walking by, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves. A ghost of a smile touches his lips as he watches them, the warmth in his chest spreading throughout his body. Then he glances back down at you, and his smile hardly wavers.

When his hands drift from your hair, you stir slightly, eyelids fluttering open a fraction. The world slowly but surely comes back into focus, and you feel yourself stretch your legs out. Tilting your head slightly, you meet Seungkwan's gaze towards you.

"Well, hello, sleeping beauty," he remarks teasingly, poking a finger at your nose. "You fell asleep on me."

You sit up from his lap, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. "Did I? Sorry."

"It's okay," Seungkwan reassures, already reaching back for your hand. "You looked cute, anyway."

You let out a scoff at that, but the heat creeping up your neck is hard to ignore. "Whatever, did I miss anything important?"

Seungkwan hesitates for a second, then shakes his head.

"Nope, nothing much," he answers. "Just talking about work and oh! The new dumpling place. Yeah, we're going there this weekend, and then stop by a new little boba café too."

The way your eyes seem to literally light up has Seungkwan grinning like a goofball.

"Oh, you are going to regret telling me about that, Mr. Boo," You threaten playfully, wiggling a finger in his direction.

Seungkwan just throws his head back and laughs, before reaching over to grab your hand into his. A yawn escapes you.

"We should probably head home now," he says, giving your hand a soft squeeze before standing up.

You follow suit, helping him pack up the picnic blanket and other belongings that the two of you brought together. And on the way back to the car, you nudge him lightly on the arm with a finger.

"Are you sure I didn't miss anything important? I must have knocked out for a bit, you know..."

Seungkwan bites at his bottom lip sheepishly. "It was something stupid."

"Come on. Whatever you say isn't stupid," You coax lightly. "I love listening to you."

He perks up at that, lifting a brow. "You... do?"

"Of course I do."

"But you fell asleep𑁋"

"Okay, the position was too comfortable," You insist hastily. "and your voice is really nice to listen to. I'm wide awake now, I swear."

Seungkwan only pauses for a few moments, a bashful look at his face. He can feel the vulnerability seeping through again, despite knowing that it's completely okay to be vulnerable, especially with you. But he'd rather say it all when the two of you are in a more comfortable... environment.

"I'll tell you at home, okay?" He presses a small kiss to your cheek. "I promise."

And when he turns away from you, you gaze down at the ground, feeling the corners of your mouth tugging back upwards.

Oh, you can't wait to hear him say all that again.

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buckgasms · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, hi, hello! 🤍

First, I want to say that I've been following along with your stories for a while now (you're one of the first people I followed when I started my Tumblr!), and I'm so happy to send you a little request if that's okay! I saw that you reblogged a prompt list, so here I am sending in my own for our sweet Bucky 🥰

I'm wondering what magic you will create with the prompt ''Finding their partner's sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them." 👀

If it's not sparking anything for you, it's okay, and you can ignore my request! 🤍

Hello my love! Thank you so much for your support, for this ask and for playing the prompt game with me ❤️ I'm so honoured that you've been following me at all.

Sorry this took longer than expected because I have done this sort of story before so I wanted to do something a bit new and it took me a while to think of a good idea....

But now I think I have a good idea. It's fairly off topic but I hope you will forgive me. It certainly did spark something lol 🤣

I hope it's ok that I set this in the Bunny and Clyde story because they are so unhinged and I love them...

Kisses 😘

Also, heavy, filthy smut ahead. Just be warned.

"What the hell is this?"

You dashed into the walk in wardrobe that Bucky was currently in to find him holding a white paper bag and an huge, like absolutely enormous, double ended dildo.

You descended into a fit of giggles, wheezing as you tried to speak as his face went from scowl to amusement as you tried to compose yourself.

"Oh my god" you moaned as you finally calmed down, and took the offending item from his grasp, waggling it around as he chuckled. "I got it from that shop we go to. I took Wanda and we got some freebies..."

He smiled peering into the bag before looking back at the appendage. "Was that a freebie?" He said, sounding impressed at the generosity of the shop.

"No, I bought this one for me..." You balance on the knife edge of pissing him off, took a breath and dived headfirst. "You know, just in case you can't keep up with me anymore. Sometimes I need something a little...bigger."

He chuckled darkly. "Ah ok Bunny, well why don't you show me hmm?" You went to protest but found his hands pulling you out to the bedroom and tossing you on the bed.

"Gone all shy huh?" He smirked as you waited on the bed and you giggled a little, sitting up and crawling towards him. "Was only a little joke Bucky, you know I don't want anyone else but you. Your big, perfect cock is all I ever want."

"Tough." He said flatly before pushing you back so your flomped down on the mattress. He wrapped a silk rope around one ankle and secured it to the bed, quickly securing your other on before you could escape.

He removed your skimpy underwear with a gentle bit firm tug and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. "Buckkyy" you whined as you tested the strength of his ties.

"Use it..." He said, tossing the toy onto the bed next to you, "or lose it" he said palming his cock through his trousers. You giggled but hesitated, feeling exposed and unsure. "But I want you to do it Bucky" you whined again and spread your legs a little wider for him.

He leaned over, gripping your cheeks tightly and turning your head to look at him. "Do as your fucking told." His free hand landed swats to your soaked pussy and thighs as you squealed in his embrace. "You need more or you gonna do what I say hmm?"

You groaned in defeat as he grinned, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before leaving you, taking a seat on the chair at the end of the bed to watch your performance.

💟

It had only been 20 minutes at most but you were a wreck.

You had done your darnedest to enjoy yourself but once again you had been bested by the master. Bucky sat, looking almost bored as you choked yourself on the rubber cock, making it messy and slick to use on yourself.

You teased and wriggled to insert the toy and whined a little as in pushed into you. It was actually no match to Bucky but you wanted to regain a little control if you could.

"Oof, so big..." You whined but it turned into a groan when he actually yawned at you. You flopped backwards but heard him tut at you, "didn't say stop bunny, keep going..."

He picked up the little bag and started rifling through it, looking at the little samples you had been given until one piqued his interest. "Sensation cream?" He read for a moment before leaving his seat and wandering over to you.

You sat up a little, hoping the punishment was over and he would actually play with you now. He showed you the packet but you shrugged indifferently. "The lady at the store said that was new. Supposed to heighten sensations, or numb it I can't remember..."

Sometimes you could be quite stupid.

Bucky grinned and ripped the top of the sample packet open. "Well let's find out shall we bunny?" You wiggled and protested but his arm was already propping your legs apart and spreading your folds open.

"A pea-sized amount it says" Bucky pondered before squeezing the entire packet onto his hand and smearing it all over your heat, making sure to get into every crease and fold. You growled and flopped down as he finished, leaving you to wash his hands.

He returned shortly and grinned. "Now we just have to wait 5 minutes or so bunny and we'll know for sure."

"What are you going to do then?"

"I haven't decided yet..."

💟

After a few moments you realised you were now completely numb. Bucky watched in amazed pleasure as he ran his finger over your folds to little reaction. He rubbed harder, even pinched your little clit, but nothing.

He chuckled and leaned down, settling himself between your legs as you whined. He started off rubbing slowly, little circles, then to and fro. You knew he was there but you had no pleasureable sensations to enjoy. Then he pinched and pulled at you, as your pussy grew puffier and redder under his actions. The a firm swat. He glanced up checking you had no reaction.

He didn't want to over do it and hurt you, but my god he was having fun. He'd alternate between all his actions until your pussy was glowing and soaked. "My god your cunt looks pretty right now..." He said softly before squeezing your lower lips together and spreading them wide.

You were in misery. You had wailed and cried about how unfair it was. That you wanted to feel it and everything else under the sun, but he wasn't to be swayed. You lay on the bed, sweaty and pouty. His favourite kind of bunny.

Bucky left your pussy briefly, stopping only to press kisses to your cheeks, lick away tears and tell you what a good bunny you were. "Taking it so well baby, you keeping up with me huh?" You rolled your eyes and growled. He never let anything go!

Moments later he was climbing on top of you, pressing his red, leaking cock against your folds and stomach. You would be able to feel him fucking you at least, you figured in your mind, but Bucky was just too smart for you.

He pressed your favourite vibrator into your hands and guided you to hold it on your numb button. Bucky then adjusted so the head of the toy sat under his cock, just in front of his heavy balls.

"I'm gonna use my little bunny's favourite toy now....oh don't worry baby, you can come as much as you like, I don't mind one bit..."

He grinned as the toy buzzed to life. You watched him grind and groan above you as you desperately tried to chase your own orgasm but no matter how hard you pressed, how much you wiggled, nothing happend.

"Bucky I caaaan't" you sobbed as he growled above you, smiling down in his lust filled haze he turned it up higher. "Oh fuck" he choked as his body buckled a little. You watched with desire as his stomach muscles tensed and his hands worked on himself before coming all over your stomach.

It was torture, and he never once relented. He repeated the action again, leaving another mess over your frazzled body, leaving you still desperately chasing your high to no avail.

After recovering from his second high he scooted round and placed your head on his thick thigh, grabbing the vibrator from you to inspect the scene.

"Bunny what a fucking mess..."

And you were. Your stomach was covered in thick cum, your arousal was smeared all over your thighs and cunt and your pussy was swollen and glowing. You too were a mess in your mind, sobbing and babbling for him.

To bring you a little relief he shushed you and guided his sensitive cock into your mouth, hushing your thoughts and giving you a little focus. He hissed through his teeth at your harsh sucking, but managed to soothe you down to just gentle sucks as you kept his cock warm.

Grabbing the sample packet again he read further, wondering how long this would last until his eyes widened:

"After 20 minutes, you and your partner will feel the enhanced power of our new Tingle Formula™ bringing your body back to reality, and off to new peaks of pleasure..."

He wondered what that would look like until he noticed your sucking had become more intense and your lower half was twitching a little. He leaned forward and ran a investigative finger through your folds. You suddenly wailed and tried to clench your legs together, hindered by the bindings.

Removing himself gently from you me moved back around to your heat. Stroking your legs and thighs to soothe your feelings of loss.

"Bucky.... Bucky I feels...I can feel...oh my god"

You panted and writhed on the bed as he blew a cool stream of air on your abused heat. You cried out and tried to get away but he chuckled and blew harder. You couldn't help it, it felt so good, so sensitive. "Please Bucky, I'm gonna, it's... I'll..."

"You gonna come just from that? You my little birthday cake bunny? Aren't you embarrassed bun bun, you really that sensitive?"

The protest died in your throat as he blew and your walls clenched painfully around nothing. Your stimulated pussy pushed one step too far. You cried out for him, for god, for anything.

He leaned over, focusing your gaze on him with a look of seriousness on his handsome features.

"Look at me bunny, look at me... I gotcha. Gonna take care of you now huh?" His nose trailed along yours before he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

"You think a toy can do this? You think anyone can do this to you? Bring you to this special place?" You shook your head and sobbed returning his kisses sloppily as he claimed you.

"That's right bunny... Just me. Only me. Now I'm gonna use that sensitive little hole, because you hurt my feelings bun bun and you're gonna make it up to me right?"

You nod, feverishly.

"Good girl. I'll even let you use that toy, shall I put it in your ass baby? You want that?"

Your babbling suggests you have no brain power left to decide so Bucky just smiled, lovingly, plants a final kiss to your lips before leaving you to feel.... everything.

💟

It didn't take long to have you floating and shivering. Your sensitive body couldn't handle much but Bucky did his best to drag as many orgasms out of you until it hurt. The kind of hurt that makes your brain fuzzy and body shake.

He licked and sucked at you, like a man starved. His fingers curling inside as his tongue swirled around your swollen pearl. You came almost as soon as he seated himself in your heat, but found yourself climbing again as he pounded his hips. He even teased your puckered hole with your new toy, but just a brush against it had you coming again.

His fingers never ceased, rubbing and swatting until you peaked again. He groaned as your squeezed him like a vice, pushing him to empty his come into your overused heat. Your final orgasm came as he used your vibrator, ordering you to show him what a dirty fuck hole looks like. He growls as his release his pushed out at the most intense of your orgasms.

💟

Finally he unties you, throws everything else to the floor and crawls over you, wrapping you up in his arms. He wraps his whole body around you, supporting your shivering frame and keeping you warm.

Soft kisses are pressed to your damp skin and praises are cooed into your ear as you grip at the pillow. "My good girl. So perfect. So pretty. You did so good bunny."

Praises are continued as he carries you off to the bathroom gently carresing your body with soft cloths and warm water. You shiver and giggle and whimper all at once, clinging to his strong body feeling overwhelmed and yet so satisfied.

After a while of quiet praising and kissing Bucky takes you off to the bedroom again and into the walk in wardrobe where he finds some soft pyjamas to dress you in. More kisses follow until he is distracted by the little white bag again.

"Wonder what else is in here" he muses but you just groan and pull him back for a kiss, tossing the bag as far as you possibly can.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bunny and clyde #mafia!bucky x reader

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zablife · 1 year ago

Text

One Way or Another

Summary: When your brother Bonnie warns you about the darkness lurking beneath Tommy Shelby’s charming exterior, you heed his advice and break up. However, a vengeful Tommy vows to get you back and his ruthless tactics are worse than you could have imagined.

Author's Note: Requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see dark!Tommy manipulate a reader into staying with him using Charlie as leverage.

Warnings: language, dark!Tommy, manipulative behavior, allusion to non con (no graphic description), assault, discussion of pregnancy and adoption

You'd noticed the handsome, blue-eyed man the moment you and your family arrived in Small Heath. Intrigued by the mystery surrounding his enormous wealth and influence, you disobeyed your father's orders and began sneaking into town to catch a glimpse of Mr. Thomas Shelby. He soon took note of you as well, lavishing attention and gifts on you.

You even met his son Charlie a few times in his father's office. Giving voices to the toy horses and soldiers he would bring, the chubby toddler would laugh and grasp at your cheeks. You loved his laughter and often wished he was your own child. "You're a natural, sweetheart,” Tommy praised with a wide grin, which made you anxious for something more with him. You found yourself daydreaming about becoming Mrs. Shelby and giving him another baby.

Tommy wasn’t shy about expressing his own desire to you. A bottle of whisky and a sour mood had led him to confess that Charlie was not his son. He claimed it was an error in his judgement of character that would not happen again. This time he wanted things done in the proper way with the right woman, he said. You’d melted on the spot when he took your head between his large palms and kissed you full. His advances would escalate in the following meetings as he learned of your purity, more enamored with you than ever. You knew it was only a matter of time before he proposed to make you his completely.

However, someone in camp must have taken note of your frequent visits to Shelby properties because word quickly got back to your brother, Bonnie. "Y/n, what are you doing with him? He's not good for ya," he said furrowing his brow in concern.

"What do you mean, Bon?" you asked curiously.

“Don’t you know? You must,” he insisted, underestimating your youthful naivete.

"He's the leader of the Peaky Blinders, Y/n. He's responsible for cuttings and beatings…murders. No one is safe round him. Not even you," he warned ominously.

"Surely not," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. Tommy was an upstanding businessman, or so you thought.

"Y/n, please listen to me," your older brother begged, sliding closer to you. "I wasn't supposed to tell you,” he said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “but Da and I are here to kill his enemies. And there's a long list. You don't want anything to do with Tommy Shelby, trust me," he stressed twisting his cap in his hands.

After a lengthy conversation about everything he knew, including the murder of Tommy’s first wife, you were shaking with fear. Bonnie wasn’t easily spooked and it bothered you to see him this upset. “Alright, I'll keep my distance," you agreed, witnessing his agitation.

Bonnie sighed with relief, but you noted an apologetic tinge to his voice when he said, "I only want to keep you safe.”

You reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know," you assured him and he relaxed back into his chair.

True to your word, you broke things off with Tommy the next day. You tried to be careful, explaining it in every conceivable way except the real reason. In your usual self effacing manner you babbled away to ease your nerves. "I'm much too young for you, Tommy. You'll get bored of me and everything I don't know. Surely you want someone more...experienced," you blushed.

Although he seemed to listen intently without judgment, inwardly he was fuming. It was your omission that told him everything he needed to know. Someone close to you had warned you off and he was certain it was your father or brother, perhaps both.

As you left his office that day, Tommy began plotting to get you back. Preferably in a manner that would punish you and your family. He would win you one way or another. Gambling was his livelihood after all and the odds were always in his favor.

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

Two weeks later...

You heard Tommy's footsteps thudding on the stairs behind you, slowly and methodically. The rhythm pounded inside your skull like a drum, driving you to the brink of hysteria and quickening your own steps. He was frighteningly calm despite your obvious distress as though he enjoyed humiliating you.

"Come back to bed, love," he urged in a saccharine voice that turned your stomach.

Your body shivered in reply as you headed toward the sitting room in search of your coat. Blinking back the tears at your lash line and biting your tongue until it bled, you promised yourself you wouldn't let him see you cry. It had been the same tactic you used that morning when your father admitted he'd gambled away your innocence in a scrap metal yard when Tommy goaded him into a coin toss.

"You're going to allow this?" Bonnie yelled at your father, pacing the floor in anxious rage reserved for fight days.

Placing yourself between him and the two blinders who had come to collect you, you mumbled, “I'll be alright.” It was a meager attempt to convince him and yourself. Turning to your father you asked, “It’s only one night?”

Watching from the corner of the room, deathly still, your father replied "I hope so." But his eyes were wide and filled with terror, the likes of which you'd never seen.

A harsh tug on your elbow startled you out of yourself as Tommy towered over you. "Where do you think you're going, eh?" he asked tightening his grip, all attempts at gentle tactics now vanished.

"I'd like to go home to my family," you choked out desperately, fingers ghosting over his in a vain attempt to soften his grasp. If he held any affection for you, perhaps he would allow you to leave with a shred of dignity.

He smirked wickedly at your cowering form, “I don’t think you understand, love. This is your home now." Tucking your disheveled hair behind your ear to reveal a bite mark on your shoulder he added, "We're just getting started, you and I." His thumb traced a dark bruise forming higher up on your neck and you winced as he pressed into it. He placed a kiss to your lips and murmured against you, “Going to tell me how much you loved having me inside you, filling you up?”

His nose brushed against yours as you pulled away. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to steady your voice. “Tommy, how can you expect me to stay after you hurt me like that?” you asked, eyes burning with tears as you relived the pain inflicted on your body and heart as you realized he’d never meant a word he said to you when you were courting.

“Everyone’s first time is like that, sweetheart. It couldn’t be helped,” he replied, caressing your cheek. You felt the bile rising in your throat as you thought of how rough he’d been, holding you down and rutting into you like an animal without any regard for your comfort.

Mustering all your courage you asserted, “I don’t want it like that ever again.”

Tommy chuckled, “Every woman says that until she wants a baby. Then you'll be begging for it.”

You shook your head as you spat, “I don’t want a family with you.”

His eyes narrowed, large hand sliding down over your midsection as he tsked, “A bit late for that. You might already be carrying my child. What will you do then?” he asked with raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t ask anything of you and I don't want..."

"I don't give a fuck what you want," he interrupted, eyes blazing with fury. "You belong to me,” he hissed, hand snaking down to your throat.

“I'll never be yours!” you shouted, fighting against him. You were paralyzed by the feeling of your airway constricting under his crushing grip, reducing you to pathetic whimpers. He squeezed until your lungs burned from lack of oxygen, your fingertips scrabbling for his wrist and clawing uselessly.

Leaning to whisper into the shell of your ear, hot breath fanned over you along with his terrifying words, “You don’t want to make things worse now, do you?”

Just as your vision turned dark, he relinquished you and you fell to the floor gasping for breath. Between coughing fits, you became aware of the housekeeper, Mary, standing in the room. When Tommy had summoned her you weren’t sure. Perhaps you had lost consciousness at some point because she stood with Charlie in her arms and the ringing in your ears soon turned to shrill crying.

“Ch-Charlie?” you asked, reaching for the child with a hint of a smile in hopes of cheering him.The brightness returning to your eyes told Tommy all he needed to know. With clenched jaw, he jerked his chin and Mary left the room as quickly as she had appeared. “What’s she doing?” you mumbled, attempting to stand despite the fuzzy feeling swimming inside your head.

Tommy didn’t answer, pretending as though he hadn’t heard you. He picked up the phone, adopting a business like tone, and began, “Good evening, put me through to Sister Agatha.”

You could still hear Charlie’s desperate sobs echoing down the corridor as Tommy greeted the woman on the other end of the line. Standing on wobbly legs, you hesitated with uncertainty, wishing to comfort the boy. However, your attention was brought back to the cruel words you overheard next. Your jaw dropped as you heard Tommy proclaim, “Send someone to collect the child tonight.”

You scrambled toward him, a look of horror crossing your face. “What have you done?”

Tommy stood like a brick wall, cold and impenetrable. “What necessity dictates, my darling.”

“I d-don’t understand,” you stuttered in confusion, unable to think clearly while being tormented by Charlie's unending screams. Finally you begged softly, "May I hold him? He's upset." You stared at Tommy's stone like features, wondering how he could be so heartless toward a baby.

Taking his time to light a cigarette and toss the match into the fireplace, Tommy smoked quietly for a few moments before ushering Mary back into the room. He took Charlie from her and placed the toddler in your trembling arms. Within a few minutes the boy settled, his chubby cheek resting upon your shoulder. As your hand caressed his golden curls, his cries turned to quiet hiccups and you felt the gentle motion of his thumb sucking before his limbs grew heavy with sleep.

“Tommy, what’s going on?” you pleaded as fresh tears slid down your cheeks. “Why are you behaving this way?”

Tommy stalked to you in three long strides, forcing your chin to meet his gaze. Icy blue stare cutting into you sharply, he scolded, “You’re the one forcing me to do these things.”

You tried to shake your head in adamant denial, but his harsh grip kept you in place. Through pinched cheeks you sputtered, “I never told you…”

“But you did,” he bit back. “Weren’t you the one saying you wanted to leave? That you didn’t want a family with me?” He threw your chin away in disgust as your brain reeled.

“You’re twisting my words…” you protested, voice cracking with emotion. Looking down at the sleeping child in your arms you began, “Of course I didn't mean Charlie..."

Just then a knock came at the door, followed by two nuns announcing themselves as representatives of St. Hilda’s. You backed into a corner, holding Charlie to your body protectively, heart beating wildly as you thought of a way to save him.

“What a darling little boy," one of the nuns chirped despite the late hour. Then she added carefully, "May I take him now?”

Tommy caught your eyes from across the room, “Go on, sweetheart,” he urged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

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@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

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@dandelionprints

@l1-l4

@rangerelik

@babayaga67

@runnning-outof-time

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby y/n #Tommy Shelby x reader #dark!Tommy #Tommy Shelby #Cillian Murphy

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rqbossman · 6 months ago

Note

I found out about tma from my friend because he asked me to make an edit of michael distortion and got into it a few months later. I LOVE TMA. I mostly listened to the whole thing three times when I was mostly offline because I have the 200 episodes downloaded on YouTube and now I'm finding out that there's some stuff I missed, there's bloopers, q&a and I was in the wiki because i wanted to see how many times the admiral was mentioned and theres one what the ghost episode? IM GOING INSANE. I love tma. I think it's rotting my brain... it's everywhere, it's in my veins. I need to know everything but when I try to search these things up on YouTube it only shows me rusty quill gaming which I will be watching later but where do I find the other stuff where is the best place to listen to tma and find every extra lore even if it's just the tiniest squeeze of lore? I need to know y'all really did an amazing job with tma, I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of listening to it. I need to relisten to it before hell— I mean... School starts again. Lord save us for another year of merciless torture. Also I was trying to type this fast and forgot to say hi. hi Mr Alex, I hope you're having an amazing day/night when you see this. I promise to listen to all the podcasts rusty quill has after I learn every little squeeze of tma lore. Where is the best place to listen to and learn every little squeeze of information of all of rusty quill podcasts? (I absolutely did not install Tumblr just to ask this what do you mean 😓😓😓)

Lovely to hear from you and thankyou for the kind words. To list good locations for TMA Lore: 1) The podcast feed is obviously first port of call and includes some bonus materials between seasons 2) Our Patreon has an absolutely enormous amount of content in there now and I believe it should at this point be organised into collections so you can just look up TMA and it's all there for you (although that is behind a paywall) 2) Any video QNA's/events etc. not included in the main feed should be on our twitch channel. 3) Rustyquill.com has various links dotted around that have snippets too 4) The fan wiki is a very strong resource. Like any wiki there is the odd error here or there but for the most part its astonishingly accurate and detailed. 5) Special mention to whoever keeps our TV Tropes pages up to date. It was when I saw a proper entry for The Magnus Archives on that site that I actually started to call myself a "proper" writer.

#alexander j newall #the magnus archives #rusty quill #meta

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fast-burn · 14 days ago

Note

gaping, helmet/mask, caught for maxiel

doing a little double-entendre for caught

kink list here

XXX

By the time Daniel herds Max into the nearest room with a door that closes--a storage closet by the looks of it, piled with boxes, one of them spilling Red Bull polos in their crinkly packages--he's so desperately horny that he's actually light-headed. He usually doesn't get the spins like this unless he's been drinking lots, or maybe out on the first free practice after a long vacation. But Max, he--

"Show me," Daniel demands. Begs, breathless.

"Hold on a second," Max says, voice muffled behind his helmet. He sounds like he does on the radio, and Daniel makes a mental note to dig up those recordings later. How well could Max have hidden it, giving feedback to GP or cussing when things didn't go his way?

Max struggles to get the helmet off. The HANS is still clipped to it, and it's snagged on something.

"No time," Daniel snaps, going for the zip on Max's suit and yanking it down. He dropped his own helmet and gloves on his car, and it's too bad that Max didn't do the same, but Daniel needs to see.

Daniel shoves down the sleeves of Max's suit, and the HANS comes undone with a gentle give, just caught on some thread. He spins Max around and pushes him up against the wall. Then, finally, he wrangles Max's suit over the plump curve of his ass, taking his snug briefs along with it.

And there it is: the plug Max said he'd put inside himself, just before they went out for Q1. The wide, translucent silicone base is snug between his cheeks. And also like Max had said, it's hollow. He's gaped wide open and Daniel can see right through to the dark, warm core of him.

Max is panting inside his helmet. "Well?" He asks. "What do you think?"

He'd been in the car with the plug inside him. It was probably vibrating with every turn.

"You slut," Daniel gasps, reverent. He puts two fingers inside the plug, inside Max's ass, and Max probably can only feel the echoes of sensation. He's completely vulnerable to whatever pleasure Daniel wants to take from him. "You're so hot, Max, god."

"If you come in me, it will probably leak while I'm driving again," Max offers, and Daniel stops breathing for a moment.

They really don't have the time. The whole rest of the garage is on the other side of the door. Any of them could walk in at any moment--it's not like it locks from the inside. They really really don't have the time, but Daniel hauls Max's body back against his, and grasps Max's full, sweaty tits through his fireproofs.

"You wouldn't be able to hold it in. My come," Daniel says. He mouths across the back of Max's helmet, tasting gas fumes and salt, the surface lightly gritty from the sand blowing across the track. He ruts his clothed cock against the ridge of the plug like an animal.

"It would get all over the place," Max agrees.

Daniel whines and licks the helmet, laves his tongue over Max's logo on the back, leaving a shiny trail through the dusting of grime. "Wanna fuck you so bad. Want you covered in it."

An announcement pings through the garage. "Hurry up," says Max.

"I know, I know," Daniel says, and at the same moment, the doorknob rattles. Daniel throws himself back against the door, pinning it closed. Max scrambles back into his race suit as they both hear someone say what the fuck on the other side. They look at each other, eyes wide. Not that Daniel is looking, but they probably both have enormous boners right now. Probably visible from space.

"You wait," Max instructs after they hear the receding footsteps. "I'll go out first."

"What? No," Daniel says, because he's not going to slink out behind Max. "I'm first."

Max huffs a breath into his helmet. "No, I'm first--"

"Max, c'mon, I should be first--"

"No, you're going after me. I'm first--"

"If anyone is coming second, it's you--"

#and so it goes until they really do get caught #maxiel #my fic #in my head this scene is longer but i have a lot of prompts!! :))#anyways the long and the short of it is that they do have sex but much later #thanks to my local sex shop for inspiring me with the Master Series Gape Glory Clear Hollow Plug #''The Gape Glory allows you to discover a whole new part of your partner as you peer into the depths of their ass!''#better yet is the accompanying photograph of some guy peering through the plug to the camera #late night post for europe!! i'll schedule the others for later methinks #kink prompts

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 18 days ago

Text

Favorite Gifts

Summary: You and Dean know exactly what you want for Christmas...just each other.

Pairing: Dean x Reader (You)

Warnings: None. Kissing. Fluff. Pretty much all fluff. (Very brief mentions of child abduction. This fic is all fluff, rest assured, but I don't want to take any chances on a possible trigger.)

Word Count: 657

A/N: All I want for Christmas is Dean, and I know I'm not alone. So, I'm offering this up as a little Christmas present. Enjoy!! Merry Christmas!!

P.S. I wrote this quickly around all the Christmas Eve busy-ness, so please excuse any mistakes! ❤️

Dean Master List || Christmas Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

You'd gone to sleep that Christmas Eve, alone in Dean's bed. It felt enormous and empty, but at least it smelled like him.

He'd called earlier in the day to tell you that he and Sam were no closer to tracking down the weird, unknown monster, that was snatching up children and leaving their parents terrified and distraught.

It wasn't a case they could postpone or walk away from without winning. It broke your heart that you'd be celebrating Christmas alone in the big drafty bunker. But you forced yourself to think of the poor parents whose little ones weren't going to be home on Christmas morning, and you knew your heartbreak paled in comparison.

So, you'd simply resigned yourself to the situation and closed your eyes not long after midnight, and proceeded to toss and turn for a couple of hours before finally falling asleep.

You'd only been sleeping for a few hours when Dean slid himself in behind you on the bed. At first you simply incorporated him into your dreams, easy to do since he lived there every night when he was away anyway.

You sighed softly as his hard, warm body fitted itself around you, enveloping you within his strong arms. But slowly, small things began to pierce through the veil of your sleep. You inhaled the scent of him - gunpowder and mint - that your sleeping brain could never quite get right.

When he nuzzled his lips along your neck, the shiver that coursed through you was so much more vivid than your imagination could ever conjure, that it woke you up completely.

Your eyes popped open and you wrenched yourself up and away from him so that you could turn around to see him for real. When his cheeky, lopsided grin spread across his face you gasped.

“Heya sweetheart.” He said warmly, making you screech like a banshee and launch yourself into his arms.

You wanted to ask him how he'd managed to get back in time for Christmas morning, but you couldn't manage it; you were too busy smothering his face in kisses.

He was laughing under your onslaught, but eventually he rolled on top of you, grasping your cheeks in his big hands and holding you still so he could kiss you properly.

His lips moved on yours skillfully, teasing your mouth open and then sweeping his tongue inside, inhaling you and swallowing down your little mewls of satisfaction.

When he pulled away you were crying; you'd been sick with missing him, and now that he was here, you could hardly believe your senses.

Dean understood your happy tears, he saw them often. So he just thumbed them away as you took a shuddering breath.

“How did you get here?” A sudden thought hit you and your stomach lurched. “The kids…”

Dean shook his head and smiled at you. “No, they're fine. All of them. Home with their moms and dads, getting ready to open their presents. Monster's gone.”

He clicked his tongue as he made a slashing gesture across his throat with his thumb.

“So, I put the pedal to the medal and me and Sammy got home just a few minutes ago.” He sniffed at himself. “Sorry, probably shoulda showered.” He joked

But you shook your head and pulled him down to kiss him again. “No.” You mumbled against his lips. “I like you just like this. Fresh from the fight and tangled up in me.”

He hitched your leg up to his hip so he could press tightly into the warm apex of your thighs.

He moaned softly. “I like you just like this too. Soft, smelling like sleep, and all wrapped around me.”

He kissed you a little longer and then settled you against his chest.

“God, I missed you sweetheart. Just so you know, whatever's under the tree, you're always gonna be my favorite gift.”

The happy tears were back as you nuzzled into his neck and whispered back. “And you're mine. Easily. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Tags Under the Cut:

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

@aylacavebear @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @livya99 @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

#dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #christmas fic #christmas fluff #dean winchester

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scariusaquarius · 3 days ago

Text

rehab. 3.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

A/n: I had someone on Ao3 ask me about how often this will get updated and my answer is that I don't know. My IRL can be pretty unpredictable and I do deal with depression on a daily basis. I'm going to do my best to update this while still working on my Leon Kennedy fic, Unlikely Salvation! Please do bear with me as I try to figure out where I want this story to go!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

Author: ScariusAquarius

rehab masterlist. chapter 1 / chapter 2

The lab was hustling with scientists, the Wakandan sunrise filtering through the enormous windows with an intensity that made Bucky eyes hurt as he stood by the cryostasis pod where the Winter Soldier would soon be housed.

The whole trek to the lab had been uneventful: not once did the soldier fight back. It seemed that the failure to complete her mysterious mission had caused her to shut down, and Bucky was tense as she was strapped down with multiple magnetic cuffs like the ones he and Steve used back in the quinjet.

Even with the super soldier serum coursing through her veins and whatever other enhancements she might naturally have or that HYDRA might have given her would prove useless. She was strapped down nice and tight.

There was a machine hovering over her knee, the tissue and bone beneath crunching and grinding as it was fusing back together, her expression unchanging despite her kneecap and patella being exposed. The air was beginning to smell of singed flesh and hair, and Bucky felt slightly nauseous.

Bucky hated knowing how much damage his arm could inflict; how unforgiving his grip was and how hard it was to regulate the strength at times so he would break yet another glass just by holding it and trying to take a drink.

And it had been so easy to crush her flesh like it was nothing.

"Howard? Howard, oh god...oh god, Anthony...!"

Bucky clenched his jaw, swallowing harshly as Maria Stark's voice whispered to him, and he was broken out of his trance by Shuri announcing.

"Once we are finished with her knee, I would like to begin deconstructing her mind. If efforts are fruitless, I would like for you to activate her again if possible. We might be able to figure out what her previous orders were and her intentions, history, anything that would prove useful to the eradication of HYDRA."

Steve frowned, asking as T'Challa simply stayed quiet, observing the Winter Soldier as she sat complacent and quiet; seemingly not hearing a word that they were saying.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? What if it doesn't work?"

Shuri replied confidently, flicking her eyes over to Steve before gesturing towards Bucky with a nod of her head.

"We will have to reset completely and start over. Sergeant Barnes' rehabilitation was easy due to the flaws within his programming that HYDRA was unable to remedy. However, we do not know what improvements have been made to HYDRA's algorithm since then. It will be challenging to separate the core person that this woman was before her programming, but not impossible."

T'Challa then asked, raising an eyebrow at Shuri as she shined a light into the Winter Soldier's eyes, taking down notes and recording her vitals.

"What if you are unable to separate the identity from the programming?"

Shuri sighed deeply, shrugging.

"She will have to be built from the ground up. This woman will be like a completely clean slate down to a new name if we are unable to figure out who she was before. I am already running the best biometric identification programs within our arsenal to figure out who she could have been. I would assume that Stark is also doing so?"

Steve nodded, replying as he watched the soldier closely as her eyes inconspicuously flicked to a scientist that readying a syringe.

"Yes, he's also got Nat looking through the database that we downloaded and coursing through any previous databanks we obtained from previous HYDRA raids."

Shuri then turned to Bucky, making him quirk an eyebrow up slightly as she regarded him with a raised brow.

"What is your take on this, Sergeant Barnes?"

All eyes were on him, and Bucky sighed slightly he stared down the soldier, watching the way her brow began to tense slightly the closer the scientist got. The second the syringe touched her skin, the soldier began to freak out.

Due to the cuffs restricting her movement, she resorted to smacking her back against the chair over and over, hissing and yelling loudly as the scientist jolted and stumbled back. T'Challa immediately shoved her down, Shuri exclaiming profanities as she snatched the syringe from the scientist and shoved it into the soldier's neck.

The soldier hissed and yanked her neck away, breaking the needle, and Shuri groaned, gesturing with her hands wildly.

"Really? Now I'm going to have to dig that out. You make things harder for yourself!"

Okoye quipped, her spear pointing towards the soldier as Steve and Bucky stood tensed and ready should the Soldier somehow get out of her binds.

"How primitive! She is like a wild animal!"

The sedative began to kick in, the woman's bucking gradually stopping, and she went limp within the chair, head rolling to the side as her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. Bucky's heart was racing slightly with adrenaline, and Steve observed.

"Seems like she knew what the syringe meant."

T'Challa frowned deeply, leaning back and brushing his hands off slightly as he glanced back at Steve.

"An important but grave detail: she must be remembering...or perhaps, it is a recent memory."

Shuri plucked the broken needle from the soldier's neck, humming.

"I will take it as a good sign that there is at least someone beneath the rubble. I promise you, Mr. Rogers, that I will do my best to find her."

Steve nodded before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

"You going to be alright?"

Bucky glanced over at Steve, muttering truthfully.

"I don't want to do this, but I'm only doing it for you. I'm worried that she is going to somehow lead HYDRA to me and it's gonna be a shit-show all over again."

Steve was firm, declaring quietly.

"You know I wouldn't let that happen. I'd have to miss that big head of yours again."

"You're a goddamn punk, you know that?"

Bucky couldn't keep the smile from gracing the corners of his lips, and Steve smiled at him softly before hugging him firmly and backing away.

"Alright, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll check in periodically; let you all know what we find on our side of the world."

T'Challa hummed, walking towards Steve.

"I will accompany you. I would like to discuss some things before your departure."

Steve nodded, and the two men walked out of Shuri's lab. Bucky turned back around, making a slight face as Shuri cut away pieces of the woman's clothing, revealing a black and tight-fitting compression camisole.

There were numerous scars and marks all over her body, some jagged and unforgiving while others were clean and precise. Shuri hummed softly, muttering as her fingers grazed a jagged scar that ran beneath the woman's neck.

"The things this woman must have been through...HYDRA is truly despicable."

Bucky couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't even think outside of the boiling hatred and rage that was beginning to consume him at the sight of the gruesome scars that covered her upper body. Bucky could only assume that it got worse beneath her uncut clothing, and he had to bite his tongue as hard as he could.

Whip scars, burn marks, mutilated flesh that never regenerated, her body was a canvas; a horrendous painting that HYDRA had taken delight in decorating. This was more than just punishment, it was a warning.

A warning that disobedience will not be tolerated.

How many times did they slash her throat for the scar to become so prominent? How many times did they burn her skin to the point that the serum couldn't work to regenerate? How often did they beat and prod and jab and shoot and stab at her until she was too weak to fight back?

In a morbid way, Bucky took it as a sign that despite her being activated and still dangerous, her history of resistance let HYDRA know that the person that used to be there still existed.

There was someone still underneath the rubble, as Shuri had put it, and Bucky hoped that Shuri could pull her out.

But even so, would it help? Would it be right to let this woman have to live with the memories and nightmares of what had happened to her? Was it right to subject her mind to the torture of HYDRA even after being rescued?

Was it right to try despite knowing how traumatized and desolated the woman was going to be once she was free? Hell, there were times were Bucky could still smell the scent of the cologne his Handler wore when punishing Bucky, and now Bucky couldn't stand to smell the scent without being pushed into a panic.

"Don't worry, White Wolf. I am going to do what I can to help this woman."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

His voice was choked, cracking slightly as he rushed to respond, and Shuri tilted her head at him, asking Bucky with a curious gaze.

"Then what is it that plagues you?"

"I just...is it right to do this when she's gonna have to live with the memories and the nightmares?"

Bucky felt ashamed by the frown that crossed Shuri's face, but was slightly relieved to know that the disappointment that flashed within her eyes was not directed at him.

"I understand the concern, and I understand that it will not be easy for her...but that is why you are here. You have survived HYDRA and are free of the programming they worked hard to instill within your mind. With living proof that persistence yields peace, I truly think that she may become a person again...it will just take time and a lot of work."

Bucky nodded, and Shuri was quiet for a moment before she murmured.

"While it may not seem fair to save her...it is truly a tragedy to deny her the chance that HYDRA never gave her."

The words left a profoundly bitter taste within Bucky's mouth, and he could distinctly taste copper from him biting into his cheek too hard. Shaking his head, Bucky looked away from the woman as Shuri began to assess her further.

"Reactivating her will come with a risk. I would only be able to activate her, but I don't have the knowledge to deactivate, if that's even possible. When I was activated...the longer I was out of cryostasis and hadn't been wiped, the easier it was to resist the programming. I don't know if it will be the same for her."

"As I said: reactivation will allow us the ability to communicate with her. She has not been wiped, it would seem, so it is possible that this woman knows something."

Shuri grabbed a butterfly needle and a vial, putting on gloves and tying a tourniquet around the woman's arm so that she could find a vein. Once she found it, Shuri inserted the butterfly needle, taping it to the soldier's skin.

"I am now going to collect bloodwork to run DNA diagnostics and input the data into the biometric identification program to see if we may be able to identify her this way. I'm also going to do some testing to see what serum she might have been injected with to trace it back to the creator."

Bucky nodded and sat back, watching and listening intently as Shuri described what she was doing and what the programs did on a deeper, intellectual manner. While Bucky was listening and trying to absorb the information, he couldn't stop glancing over at the scars that lined the woman's body.

Horrific couldn't even describe it. It made him sick to his stomach. If Shuri noticed that Bucky was slightly distracted, she gracefully didn't comment on it. Instead, Shuri tried to distract him the best that she could while the machine she was operating was taking a scan of the woman's brain.

After a moment, Shuri hummed, a perplexed look on her face as she sauntered around the hologram of the woman's brain, tendrils of red seeming to pulse all over the organ, and Shuri's brows furrowed as she thought to herself. Bucky asked with an intrigued look on his face.

"What is that?"

"This is a digital recreation of the woman's brain as well as the areas most affected by HYDRA's programming."

Shuri looked proud as she began to move the hologram around, zooming in and out of different areas and lobes before breaking it down into layers.

"Thanks to the work that I did for you, I was able to develop an AI that was capable of identifying HYDRA's programming, as well as detect the intensity and depth that it runs. It gives possible solutions and suggestions on what to work on first...and tells me when something activates the program."

Shuri's voice seemed to lower slightly, side-eyeing him for a moment before she looked back at the hologram, but Bucky didn't notice. Bucky was floored, in awe at the ingenuity of the AI that he couldn't help but to whistle lowly.

"That's incredible, Shuri."

"Please, compared to her, you were like a walk in the park."

Shuri waved him off before she hummed, pointing to a area that was largely red within the hologram.

"However, unlike your programming, her programming is much more complex. There are multiple layers where the programming intertwines with core pieces and memories, which will make unraveling the ties difficult. There might be parts of her that will not be salvageable."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly, shaking his head as he replied gently.

"Like you said: from the ground and up if needed."

Shuri smiled widely at Bucky, her eyes crinkling as she teased gently, pointing at him.

"See, now you are beginning to understand."

Bucky rolled his eyes before he asked as Shuri began to work, a screen popping up and flashing slightly.

"So, what is that?"

"If we are going to salvage as much as we can of the core person she was before she became a Winter Soldier, we will have to analyze every piece of her psyche. Unfortunately, I cannot do much with HYDRA's program basically firewalling me. It is like they added some sort of encryption to her so that any attempt of undoing their work would be unsuccessful or too risky."

Bucky tilted his head, becoming slightly confused as he pointed to the red parts of the woman's brain.

"Is that why those areas are red like that?"

"Yes. If you look closely, it is almost as though these red areas are wrapping around the parts that are otherwise untouched by HYDRA's program. If we can get past the encryptions, we might be able to get through."

Bucky nodded along, crossing his arms before he glanced down at the woman, asking apprehensively.

"Are you going to make me activate her?"

"For now, no. I do not think that it will be necessary. All I need to do is bypass the encryptions, break them down, and then I will begin to root out the memories with the most significance to her."

Shuri spared Bucky a glance, relaying to him honestly.

"If possible, I would like to keep you from doing so because of the mental repercussions activating her will have. I will entrust the process to Okoye if activation is the only option we have left."

Bucky shook his head, murmuring to Shuri as he glanced down at the woman again as her face scrunched slightly.

"No, I'll do it...let's just hope that I don't have to."

Shuri became quiet, staring Bucky down for a moment before she turned away and suggested.

"Perhaps you should see the Captain off. Breaking through the encryption will take time, and I can tell that you are starting to become brain-dead listening to me."

Bucky chuckled before bowing his head slightly, shaking his head.

"I'd rather not upset your brother by leaving you with her by yourself."

Shuri made a face at him, the expression reminding him of Steve pre-serum.

"Do you think I am not capable of defending myself? This is my territory, white boy."

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, wincing slightly.

"I'm sorry, your highness, but I've been on the receiving end of your brother's foot."

Shuri barked out a laugh, and Okoye made her presence known by snorting while a couple of the Dora Milaje stood by the entrance to Shuri's lab.

"At least he knows what he would be up against. Do not worry, Sergeant Barnes, I will stand watch. The Captain is about to make his departure."

Bucky nodded before expressing his gratitude, nodding gently to Shuri.

"Thank you. I'll be back shortly."

Bucky turned and left quickly, his steps quick and urgent as he arrived outside. However, the quinjet was already flying away, making Bucky purse his lips. T'Challa's voice greeted him, making the man look over at the King as he spoke.

"You just missed him."

"He's always running off on me somehow, so I'm not entirely surprised."

T'Challa chuckled slightly, before he glanced over at Bucky.

"How are you feeling about all of this?"

Bucky glanced over at T'Challa, regarding him with an exhausted look before he turned back front, watching Steve leave again.

"I'm worried, honestly. There's so many things that could go wrong. What if HYDRA is trying to find me and was using her to do it? HYDRA must know that the Avengers have been raiding the old facilities that aren't in use anymore, so why not leave her to be found and taken in?"

T'Challa hummed, clasping his hands together as he replied.

"Let them try. They will not make it very far."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly before he murmured.

"It's...strange, honestly...seeing this from an outside perspective. I knew that this was serious, but I wasn't aware of how bad it actually was. Standing on the other side of the glass...it's almost poignant."

T'Challa nodded, replying with a hum.

"When my father was killed and I was under the assumption that it was you in Vienna, a deep hatred rooted within me for HYDRA. While I understand now that it was Zemo's schemes...that hatred for HYDRA has never wavered. Even now when knowing the dangers that lie beyond those doors, I still hope for peace."

Bucky was quiet, listening intently to T'Challa's words as the king spoke, his brown eyes downcast as he continued.

"Nobody deserves to be subjected to such horrific torture."

Bucky wasn't sure on how to respond. Instead, the man just nodded and took a moment to breathe before he settled, glancing over at T'Challa.

"You're right, and if we have to start from scratch, then I'm willing to help how I can...both with rehabilitating her and eradicating HYDRA once and for all."

T'Challa nodded quietly before turning to walk back towards the lab, suggesting over his shoulder.

"You should get some rest...and maybe put that on ice."

At the mention of the wound on his temple, it began to pulse, and Bucky just sighed.

"I'll sleep it off...and thank you for listening."

T'Challa didn't respond, but a smile graced the king's lips as he disappeared through the doors. Bucky's shoulders sagged slightly, and he rubbed his temple gently, wincing when he pressed down to hard.

He had to admit: that woman could give a mean right-hook.

STORY NOTES: Bucky, T'Challa, Steve, and Shuri are all within her lab with the Winter Soldier. So far, the Winter Soldier has made no move. Shuri is using a machine that heals and reconstructs the soldier's knee, and Bucky is perturbed by the damage he had inflicted. He reflects on the hardship it took to regulate the strength of his grip in his metal arm; reminiscing about the difficulty of clutching a glass of water.

Shuri then tells the group that she would like to begin deconstructing the Winter Soldier's mind to get an understanding of her intentions, and suggests activating the Winter Soldier again should Shuri's efforts fail. Steve is apprehensive, and Shuri voices that if neither efforts are successful, then she will have to completely reboot the Winter Soldier.

Shuri elaborates that she is currently attempting to figure out the identity of the Winter Soldier, and makes a remark that she hopes Tony Stark is also doing the same. Steve comments that Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, is also combing through the databank Bucky had downloaded, as well as previously recovered databanks.

When a scientist attempts to inject a sedative into her, the Winter Soldier begins to resist; causing a scene and consequently breaking the needle of the sedative within her neck. Steve observed that the woman understood what the syringe meant, and T'Challa points out that it might be a sign that she is remembering.

Before Steve's departure, Bucky voices his fear that HYDRA is using her to get to him, and Steve reassures Bucky that he won't let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Steve exits with T'Challa, and Bucky and Shuri are left alone within the lab. Shuri begins to remove a bit of the woman's clothing, and more scars are revealed.

Bucky becomes upset by the sight of the scars, understanding what they meant, and Bucky begins to become apprehensive about saving the woman. Shuri reassures Bucky that what they are doing is right. Later, Shuri shows Bucky a digital rendition of the Winter Soldier's brain and explains what she is going to do in order to save the woman's core identity.

Shuri comments that Bucky should see Steve off, and though Bucky tries to get to Steve before he leaves, he is unsuccessful. Instead, he meets with T'Challa. They begin to converse with each other, Bucky revealing his concerns, and T'Challa reassures him that HYDRA would not make it far into Wakanda if they attempted to retrieve him. Bucky makes a final thought on the woman and reflects on her strength. End scene.

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @tilldeathripsusapart

#bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 3 months ago

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I hope I'm not asking too many questions... but I really love the skywhale trope and wanted to hear your thoughts on them?

i think we need more variety of whales in the sky! seems like more people go for a blue whale or humpback whale design on their sky whales, which is fine because they are very iconic whales and i love the way they look. but how about some beaked or toothed whales? flying orcas? a bowhead? i think a sky whale that looked like a bowhead whale would be just wonderful, look at this thing.

(image description: first is an underwater photo of a bowhead whale's face. the top of its mouth is very narrow while the bottom of it is enormous, like a pelican. there is a white patch at the front of its lower jaw with black spots in a line across it. the second image is a detailed illustration of the whale's whole body, comparing it to the size of an elephant and showing the shape of its fins and tail. the elephant is roughly the size of the whale's lower jaw. end description.)

i love this thing. look at that face. the humpback whale may have longer and prettier fins for that sky whale aesthetic, but the bowhead's face shape is delightful. more diversity in sky whale designs!

but of course, the more interesting thought is how exactly to make such an enormous vertebrate work as a flying animal. where is it going? what does it eat? what happens when it dies?

it would be more realistic for sky whales to be smaller, but when people think of sky whales, they want the huge size! it's a fantasy, we want the epic huge flying creatures with their strange singing calls swimming through the clouds. so i'm not going to talk about the more logical small flying whales that go around in flocks to hunt birds (though the idea of smaller flying dolphins is also delightful!) I'm going to just talk about big slow baleen sky whales, the most iconic and desired of all sky whales.

step one: how the heck are these things in the air. it's easier to explain how a dragon can fly, they have big powerful wings. how do whales fly? I think the clearest answer is that they have some form of massive internal air sac full of lifting gas. real life oceanic whales are full of blubber, but maybe sky whales don't have as much blubber and get a lot of their size from their big air sacs instead.

lifting gas is just an umbrella term for any gases that are lighter than the standard atmospheric air. this includes heated atmospheric air, hydrogen, helium, coal gas, ammonia, and methane. (according to wikipedia) and with that list I think we've found our answer. whales are actually even-toed ungulates like cows. they could easily produce a lot of methane with the right diet. they'd just keep it in their air sacs instead of releasing it as a waste material! and for the best production of methane, these sky whales should have multi-chambered stomachs.

This does mean they're probably going to eat a lot of plant matter! so imagine them swooping low to take huge mouthfuls of tree tops! terrifying! maybe their baleen is structured to scrape the leaves off the branches. Maybe they swoop down to kelp forests in the ocean and take huge mouthfuls of that as well. any critters they happen to consume in the process are just bonus snacks full of protein. they likely also consume large flocks of small birds on the go, and probably clouds of flying insects too! locust swarms, for example. watch out for the low flying whales! I think they'd be slow like blimps and mostly use their tails and fins to steer and swoop down for food. they probably also rub themselves on tree branches or mountain sides to scratch their itches. I bet they'd have a symbiosis with many bird species that pick off their parasites.

like cow manure, sky whale dung could be a great source of fertilizer. best to avoid the usual paths of migrating sky whales so you don't end up dead by having giant poop clumps fall on you, but once it's hit the ground, that's free whale manure for every farmer in the area. the lands along the paths of migrating sky whales are probably very fertile, which also serves the whales, since they'll be eating the leafy tree tops! and when a whale dies, falling to the ground, the resulting small earthquake would certainly be startling, and both the impact and the rot process would cause a lot of damage to the surrounding land.

things are not immediately fertilized when a corpse rots. it takes a while! the rot causes more harm at first and then starts to nourish the ground later.

and dead bodies tend to bloat with gases and i have already established that these whales are full of methane. a lot of it would be released at death anyway, and i don't think the whale would drop immediately. or perhaps they fly lower in their old age and just crash land and die slowly. either way, these things are huge and full of methane and then they bloat. which means they might also explode spontaneously as part of the decay process. the air for miles around is going to be so nasty. but i think if you live in sky whale territory, you're just going to have to get used to the stink, because the manure that falls on a more regular basis is also going to be so so stinky.

like real world whale falls, sky whale falls will attract absolutely every carnivorous creature in the area. anything that eats meat will follow that awful stench right to the source and start gnawing away at the thick skin. people will have the easiest time, since they have tools for this beyond just their teeth and claws. the faster the whale is cut open, the less likely there will be an explosive bloat stage, so I'm sure the culture of the region would have some superstitions about leaving a dead whale lying too long. if you don't go harvest that bounty, it will explode and you never know where those chunks will land.

and then when there's only bones, people use em for building all sorts of things! the societies that exist in the paths of sky whales would be very cool to see.

that turned into a ramble and I haven't even designed a sky whale lol. lemme doodle one real quick.

(image description: a sketch of a sky whale, which resembles the aforementioned bow whale, swooping down to munch on trees in a forest. end description.)

#sky whales #worldbuilding

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radiant-reid · 2 years ago

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Single mom reader x daughter (5 year old) and Spencer misses her dance recital and when he goes to make it up to her she calls him dad “daddy…I looked for you in the crowd” “why did you have to leave again”

One of the first things you learned about Spencer was how his job worked. It was something he was very clear about being on his list of cons when it came to dating. Honestly, it didn't phase you. Not when there were some men who lived in the same city that would spend less time with you than Spencer. He was dedicated, loyal, kind, funny, romantic, witty, and not at all put off by your daughter.

Maisie fell in love maybe faster than you did. He's so great with her. Always willing to read her stories and listen to her chatter.

At five, she's a little worse at understanding his schedule than you are. Sometimes he'll be at dinner three nights in a row, and other times, you won't see him for a week.

It's why she sobs into your shoulder on the way to your car after her dance recital. "I looked and he wasn't there." She complains.

You bounce her up and down, soothing her. "Baby, it's okay. We talked about how Spencer can't always be here with us, and momma was there."

She nods, letting you buckle her into the car seat. "I know, and he always comes back."

You tap her on the nose. "You're my smart little girl. Should we get ice cream on the way home?"

"Please, please, please!" She cheers, already forgetting about her disappointment. Oh, to have a five-year-old's brain.

She's happier with ice cream, but it might not have been the best time to pump her full of sugar, so you let her race up the stairs to burn off some energy.

She squeals when you round the corner to your apartment door, and you're immediately concerned, quickly speeding up to catch up with her to see what's wrong.

It's not a bad squeal, it's a Spencer's-here squeal.

He looks like shit if you were being honest, sunken features from not sleeping, but he's smiling, and he's got ice cream.

You greet him with a quick kiss after he's finished hugging Maisie before unlocking your apartment. She keeps looking between the snacks he brought and you, gaining the confidence to ask. "Can I have a second ice cream?"

It's already nine, so you shake your head. "You can have some for breakfast tomorrow if you're in bed in 10 minutes." You challenge her.

"Can Spencer read to me?" She asks hopefully, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You can't say no to them usually, and he definitely can't.

"Of course." He jumps in to say. "I missed it."

She beams at him for a second before she races off, leaving you with him, your perfect boyfriend. "Hi." You say, chest to chest with him as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"I've missed you, too." He tells you. "And this." You don't have a chance to ask what he means before his lips are firmly on yours.

"They'll be more of that to come after you've had a long sleep." You tell him, winking at him.

He grins happily, nodding. "I'm going to go read a very quick story then." He says.

You go with him after putting the ice cream in the freezer, kissing Maisie on the forehead and telling her you're proud of her and that you love her before leaving Spencer with her for a story.

"Can I ask something?" She asks him, pulling her covers up to her chin. It's after her bedtime story, and he half assumes she's doing it to stay up later.

He nods, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Anything you want, little one."

"Why do you always have to go working?" She asks with a pout. "I wanted you to come to my dance, and I looked for you in the crowd, daddy."

She doesn't even realize what she's just said, and she definitely doesn't understand the enormity of it for him. It's one title he hasn't had, until now. With the perfect child of his perfect girlfriend, life has never been better.

He's tearful at that one word, but he avoids showing it too much to her. "I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can get a special showing tomorrow?"

"Yes!" She agrees, like it's the best idea ever she's ever heard. Her little face lights up and it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

"I can't wait." He tells her. "But you've got to sleep so you'll have energy tomorrow." She nods in agreement and he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, princess."

Spencer's upset, almost sleeping already, and he tiptoes out of her room before heading to yours.

Something's wrong when he walks in. He's teary-eyed with a wide smile, looking like something big has just happened.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

"She called me dad." He says, still in shock.

You open your mouth, mirroring his shock before smiling. "Spencer... thank you." You decide on saying. "You're the best thing to happen to her."

He shakes his head. "No, you're both the best things to happen to me."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

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warping-realities · 4 months ago

Text

Rich People Problems

This was my tribute to the works of the incredible @callmecallmecrazy (seriously, what are you doing that you haven't read the legend yet?) and the no less amazing dumb-and-jocked, if you're reading this bro know that we all miss you immensely!

Repost with new images and minimal changes to the story.

.....

Cris sighed for what felt like an eternity before stepping into the luxurious and refined ballroom of the Country Club. This was going to be a painful experience. An engagement party, out of the blue. His mother, Carol, had been widowed a few years back and since then had thrown herself into her work as a lawyer. She was a staunch defender of human rights, fighting hard in court for the less fortunate. Cris greatly admired his mom's work and never judged her for her absences; what she did changed lives, and from an early age, he understood the importance of her work. Even so, because of that, he had always been a lonely kid—absent father, distant mother, and a social awkwardness that kept him from making lasting friendships. Books were his greatest companions, ranging from children's classics to true masterpieces, and it was through reading complex political works that he decided to become a journalist to fight against the ills and injustices of the world, just like his mom.

So, you can imagine Cris's enormous surprise when he found out that his mother had decided to marry the notorious multimillionaire Archibald Sutterland III, a guy with a rep for being a hard-ass boss and totally averse to workers' rights. “The Third,” muttered Cris with disdain. Rich people and their pretentious names, he thought, rolling his eyes as he stepped into the room.

He walked through the place, crawling with pretentious people, all dressed to the nines, casting judgmental looks his way. But he didn’t let it get to him; this was, after all, his mom’s engagement, and he’d wear whatever the hell he wanted. Not that he had time to find “appropriate” clothes for the occasion. Having been snatched by a couple of giant security guards from his college dorm earlier that day, bundled into a private jet, and taken to a stately mansion, where a pompous outfit awaited him on the bed of a room bigger than his former home, he decided to ignore the getup despite the protests of his “guardians,” who, finally defeated, dumped him in a freaking limousine and dropped him off in a place that felt totally alien and hostile to him.

“How does crap like this even happen?” he muttered to himself as he searched for his mother, determined to confront her about this madness. Speaking of madness… he finally spotted her, standing by the bar, wearing a dress he could never have imagined, a goofy smile plastered on her face. Just one more piece of info for the list of absurdities of the day.

“Mom? What the hell is going on?” he asked irritably.

“Cristhian, my dear, I'm glad you made it in time! But what are you wearing? Archibald made it clear to the staff that you should be handled properly!”

“Handled? What the hell, Mom! I'm not some puppy to be 'led' around. And what the fuck is going on anyway? What ridiculous idea of marriage is this?”

“Just be quiet, please, Cristhian. Don't embarrass me in front of the society.”

“And since when do you care about ‘society?’” he said, emphasizing the word with obvious disdain. Forcing a smile in hopes no one noticed the altercation, his mother pulled him aside as she spoke.

“Calm down, let’s talk…”

….

Watching the scene from afar was Archibald Sutterland III, accompanied by his longtime partner and friend, Forrest Gordon-Lenox IV.

“You have to admit, the boy’s got some flair, Archie.” Forrest was one of the few allowed to use that nickname since they’d known each other since childhood, but only when they were alone.

“I should’ve seen it coming that the boy inherited some of his mother’s fire, but if I’ve molded her into an impeccable example of a woman, believe me, I’ll get the brat out of the way. In fact, I think this might be the perfect opportunity to test my own heir,” he said as he saw a handsome young man approaching.

“Good evening, Father. Good evening, Mr. Gordon-Lenox. Looks like Carol is having some issues with her son,” said the handsome muscular blond young man with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Good evening, Chadwick. Your father and I were just talking about your future brother’s peculiar ways.”

“Chadwick, the time has come. I could do it myself, but soon you’ll graduate, and you'll need to step up. I don’t care much for society gossip, but something like this could have negative repercussions on business. So I need you to take care of the kid.”

“Yes, Father, with the greatest pleasure,” replied the young man with a sneaky smile.

….

“Mom, it feels like I’ve walked into a bad adaptation of Stepford Wives! This makes no sense. How can you drop everything, years of career, to marry an old man and become a housewife?”

“If I were you, I’d be very careful with words spoken in such an environment, my friend,” said a sassy voice. Turning around, startled, Cris came face to face with a handsome young man in a light blue suit, matching his eyes, which were currently assessing him with a predatory look.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Chadwick Sutterland.”

“So what…?”

“So what, friend, if we’re going to be brothers, we might as well agree on some things.”

“Brothers???”

“Chadwick is Archibald’s son, Cristhian, so after the wedding, he’ll be your brother.”

“How wonderful,” replied Cris, exasperated.

“Indeed, I think we’re going to get along just fine, Cristhian.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it!”

“Cristhian! Enough of that!” Carol whispered, anguished.

“Let me handle this, Carol. Your son and I just got off on the wrong foot, but let’s fix this together. Cristhian, can’t you at least try this for your mom?” Chadwick concluded in an accusatory tone. Seeing the anguish on the face of the most important woman in his life, Cris relented.

“Okay, since it looks like this craziness is going to happen anyway… but I’m not wearing that pompous crap.” He responded, disdainfully eyeing his future “brother’s” attire, not caring if it offended him.

“Apparently, someone always has to be on top. I think I’ll call you Topper, brother, and since we’re among bros, you can call me Chad.”

“You can call me whatever you want; this ‘brotherly’ relationship won’t last long. So come on, I need a drink.”

“Excellent, follow me, please. Carol, if you’ll excuse us!” Chadwick finished, dragging Cris with him across the hall.

….

“Drink this, bro,” said Chad, handing Cris a glass of bourbon. He had pulled him into a locker room near the Club’s gym. The pompous and polite demeanor faded, replaced by a relaxed attitude and carefree vocabulary, which made Cris’s initial dislike for the guy diminish considerably.

“What you need to understand, now that you’re joining our circle, is that appearances are everything—the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, the way you dress… so this behavior won't help you Topper!” He continued, using that stupid nickname, apparently a bond between brothers or something, and no matter how much Cris protested, Chadwick was Chad, and Cristhian was Topper. After some failed attempts, Cris finally stopped objecting; after all, he intended to have as little contact as possible with Chad after that night.

“I don’t give a crap about that, Chad. My mom can commit this madness if that’s what she wants, which I still have a hard time believing. But once tonight’s circus is over, I’m going back to college without looking back.”

“I understand your indignation; I was also blindsided by my dad’s decision. My mom passed away less than a year ago. So understand, you’re not the only one upset here, bro. But my father is used to getting what he wants, and he wants your mother. He met her a few months back in court, oddly enough. She argued her case against one of our companies with such ferocity that it warmed something in the old man’s icy heart. Since then, he’s been courting her relentlessly until she accepted the proposal last week. It might’ve seemed sudden, but as I told you, my dad gets what he wants, when he wants,” concluded the boy, bitterness creeping into his voice. This earned him a few more points with Cristhian. Maybe not everyone there was that awful. But still full of indignation he continued to complain.

“I don’t understand why my mom didn’t tell me anything; it’s not like her.”

“Bro, you know how women are; no one can predict their crap.”

To avoid an unwanted discussion with someone he was trying to create some kind of sympathy with, Cris let the sexist comment slide.

“Still, I don’t understand why I need to wear this!” he said, looking at a suit identical to his future “brother’s.”

“Appearances, brother. Coming here poorly dressed not only tarnishes you, but also your mom, my dad, and our family name. Come on, try it; I bet you’ll feel a lot better.”

With one last sigh, Cris began to undress. As he prepared to put on the pompous outfit he suddenly found himself very close to a grinning Chad, holding a bright red gem in his hand.

“Not yet, Topper; first, we need to make some changes.”

The stone began to emit an intense glow. Afraid of what he was seeing, Cristhian tried to escape. But suddenly, his legs went rigid and immobile, as if glued to the ground.

“What the hell is going on? What are you doing?”

“Silence, now is your time to listen. You will only speak when I say so.” Cris felt his lips tighten, not painfully, but still totally unable to form a sentence; his vocal cords incapacitated from producing any sound.

“I like you, Topper, really, you’ve got some guts. I think we could still be real brothers. But the way things are, it won't work. Do you know why? Because of what you are. Or what the people who matter think you are. And do you know what they think, Topper? I’m sure many in that hall looked at you and thought: a nobody. But what they haven’t thought of is what you really are—an opportunity.” Chad continued, grinning with a disturbing glint in his eyes, reflecting the gem strange glow.

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a bench. And Cris felt compelled to sit down, the movement returning to his legs. But when he tried to turn and run, he ended up sitting right where Chad instructed him.

“Such a good boy,” sneered Chad, the red gem held in his hand.

“You know what that is, Topper? That’s why your fierce mother became a trophy wife-to-be. And that’s also the key to the future—mine and yours, bro. So I guess I owe this version of you an explanation.

“This stone has been in my family for generations, passed down from father to son, ensuring our lineage, our money, and our name continue to live on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the reason old Dorrance Sutterland, the founder of our line, got his passage on the Mayflower. But I confess, for some generations, the Sutterland men have used it for more… mundane purposes. When you have everything money can buy, it’s hard to find something that really needs the use of this little beauty.”

“I didn’t lie to you when I said my dad met your mom in court a few months ago; that’s the absolute truth. And I wasn’t lying when I said he tried to woo her either; he did… but was rebuffed, which only ignited the fury inside him even more. And the more the fire inside my father grew, the more the desire to dominate and extinguish his mother’s flame consumed him.”

“You see, this stone has power over reality itself; there’s nothing it can’t do, with few limitations. The curious thing is that my dad doesn’t know this; my grandfather never told him all its potential. To him, it’s only capable of influencing people’s minds, shaping their wills, and even redefining their personalities. But he never suspected it could do so much more.”

“It’s all because my dad has always been a huge jerk. With his stupid rules, his obsession with control, his insufferable rigidity—and the biggest problem of all, his boredom. My grandfather would’ve loved to use the stone on him, but that wasn’t possible; that’s one of the limitations of the stone’s power—it doesn’t work on men of our lineage. We’re the only ones who can use it, but never on ourselves, although there are some interesting ways to at least partially circumvent these rules. Furthermore, each Sutterland man can use it only once in his lifetime.”

“So, my grandfather was forced to live with his boring son, who, despite having a great knack for finances, always showed a total inability to enjoy the pleasures of our way of life. So, as a small form of revenge, he withheld essential info from my father but told me everything, as I was a much better heir to our legacy.”

“My father used his chance with the stone to turn your mother into his trophy wife, Topper. After all the speeches, all the scolding, all the talk of responsibility, he used the stone to win over a woman, just a few months after my mother died! How undignified is that? And when he refused to hand me the stone, he even had the audacity to repeat the usual litany.”

“The same litany that isolated me my whole life, that prevented me from having a true friendship, from living the life I’m entitled to. For my dad, everything I wanted was frivolous; everything was a waste. And everyone looked at me with pity, pity for the poor rich boy. Of course, my peers accepted me and never had the heart to do anything to me; I’m a Sutherland, and that name means a lot. But not even that name can create a real bond. Maybe if my dad had put me in a boarding school, things would’ve been different; maybe some real friendship could’ve been established. But no, I needed to be under his constant surveillance.”

“While my buddies are enjoying their holidays in Ibiza or the Alps, I’m stuck sitting next to him in a dusty office! Even my frat brothers, as much as they talk about the unbreakable bond that unites us, don’t really see me as one of the guys; they respect my name and my position, but it’s clear I’m among them because I’m a legacy. Can you imagine how it feels to see all your ‘brothers’ getting ready for Spring Break, knowing you won’t be able to make it? My dad denied me not only my grandfather’s name but also the opportunity to live my life the way it should be lived by our people—with respect for traditions, sure, but above all, with fun. Yes, with fun! What’s the point of having mountains of money if you can’t enjoy yourself? That’s all I want, Topper—fun!

“You don’t have the slightest idea how much I wanted to get my hands on the stone, but the old man took precautions to keep it away from me, as if I didn’t have my own means. And today, thanks to this outrageous engagement dinner, I finally managed to get my hands on it. And thanks to you, Topper, I’m finally going to find a way to enjoy my life the way I deserve!”

So, put a metaphorical smile on that face because you’ll be enjoying everything with me, bro!” he sighed, concluding his long villainous monologue with a maniacal grin.

Christian, motionless, lips sealed, listened to all that madness, unable to believe it. That was impossible. But so was his current situation. And the story, as absurd as it was, provided an explanation for his mother’s altered behavior. Still, that was all impossible, wasn’t it?

“My grandfather informed my father of specific rules and ways of speaking and ordering the stone, instilling a fear of what might happen if those safeguards were not used, in addition to the obvious omission of its full power. My grandfather was diligent in his revenge, Topper. Thanks to him, my dad lost his chance to achieve something truly extraordinary, but I won’t lose mine. The stone doesn’t need specific and detailed orders; those things only limit its functioning. It’s intimately connected to the deepest desires of its bearer, so just ask, and it will provide. Goodbye, Cristhian; welcome, Topper, bro!” he concluded.

The stone began to emit an intense red glow in great waves, which, in Cristhian’s vision, seemed to distort everything around him, with Chad’s hand becoming a blur.

“That shit was real,” was his last coherent thought before being enveloped by the red light.

…..

Memories came in waves—totally alien to his identity but intrusive, forcing their way in. Two blonde toddlers, so alike you’d think they were twins, in an elegant living room, arguing animatedly about whose father owned the bigger yacht, eliciting giggles from two pretty blonde women, their mothers.

“Yes, he and Chad knew each other from the cradle. No, no, what the hell was that?”

“Their mothers were best friends, college roommates, and in the same sorority, and their fathers had common business interests, so it was natural that the friendship extended to their kids.”

“No, his father had been a college professor, not a businessman, and his mother had never been in a sorority. And for God’s sake, what kind of spoiled brat talks like that?”

Seemingly the same kind of kid who spends their afternoons on the tennis courts at the Country Club while their parents excitedly discuss business. Occasionally pausing to flash an approving smile in his direction, in Cris’s… Topper’s case. Or a stern look in Chad’s.

“Uncle Archibald was always a pain in the ass, but spending time with Chad and Dad was awesome.” It was the thought that popped into Cris’s head while that memory solidified.

Thinking about his father brought up an old and painful memory of Cris, which was quickly overridden by the overwhelming power of the stone. The memory of a thin, brown-haired boy, on a cold winter afternoon, feeling lost and alone was replaced by that of a blonde boy, physically active but with the same feelings of sadness marking his face. But that gradually faded when he felt his best friend’s hand on his shoulder, a warm feeling spreading through his body, knowing he had someone with him.

Although that feeling was interrupted by a flash of irritation when he saw his “Uncle” Archibald whisper something in his mother’s ear. His father had just died, and there was ambitious old Archie harassing his widow, no doubt imagining a way to cash in.

Cris struggled with the conflicting and confused feelings inside him; he knew that none of that was real—not the anger at a man he didn’t know, not that great friendship, not that warmth. But at the same time, it would’ve been nice to have a friend by his side when his father passed away… it had been so nice…

After his father’s death, Cris became responsible, at least in name, for the family’s legacy. His mother, contrary to what one might think, was a true lioness; she took over her late husband’s business with great interest, expanding the family fortune and ensuring every wish of the heir was granted. But at the expense of the son’s loneliness. Christopher Lauder Hawthorne IV, Prince Topper, fourth of his name, heir to a fortune, surrounded by everything he could want... and alone. The exception was his friend Chadwick Sutherland, but even if the two wanted to spend all their time together, that wouldn’t be possible. But his mom made it happen! He didn’t know what kind of deal she made with Archibald, but sometime after his dad died, Christopher, along with Chadwick, was sent to a boarding school.

What would have been torment for other boys was liberating for both of them. Away from his father’s stern gaze, Chadwick enjoyed life for the first time, while Christopher found in his friend a true brother. There was nothing Topper wouldn’t do for him. The two formed a beautiful pair—handsome and charming—soon surrounded by a growing group of friends. Topper, with his outgoing ways and the certainties in life that only the very rich or the very foolish possess, and Chad, with a more cunning way of thinking, but still eager to have as much fun as possible. Leaders among their own.

But anyone who thought those boys were stupid was dead wrong; Chadwick could never let his grades slip, under penalty of losing the ironic freedom the school had granted him. As for Topper, well… he had Chad to help him with the complex stuff and a mom willing to overlook her precious son’s academic incompetence. Even more so when it became clear that the boy had a natural talent for sports when they joined the school’s lacrosse team, which soon morphed into a passion for all sports they could participate in. Topper’s tactical ability on the field and court demonstrated something his poor academic record failed to do: he was incredibly intelligent and capable when he wanted to be. The truth is, most of the time he just didn’t care. The exception was sports, which became a true obsession, which Chad shared to a slightly lesser extent.

As a result, the two muscular men who finished school barely resembled the two boys they once were. Topper cherished the photograph taken with his friend after their team winned the intramurals.

No, no, no! I’ve always been a good student; I have no idea what the rules of lacrosse are. I’ve never been to boarding school, and I’m certainly not some pretentious mountain of muscle who thinks he has the world at his feet," Cris thought.

"But I am," Topper replied, making Cris freak out, not knowing where the strange voice inside his head came from, while new memories flowed.

With the end of school and before college, which both boys would attend together, Archibald decided he wanted Chad by his side to instruct him in the truths of life or some such nonsense. As if Topper would let his brother be stuck in an office all summer. Negative. The two of them would have fun, even if he had to kidnap Chad to do so. Which wasn’t necessary, because once again, Carol Lauder Hawthorne used her magnificent powers of persuasion to ensure her beloved son had his best friend with him during those vacations, where they explored the Old Continent together, taking yacht trips through exclusive islands across the Mediterranean, a brief pause to ski in the Swiss Alps, and the cherry on top: the craziest sexual experiences in Eastern Europe.

“Ah man, the flexibility of that girl in Prague,” Topper reminisced fondly about that particular night.

“I’ve never been to Prague, or on a yacht, or in the Mediterranean, and I’d certainly break my legs if I tried skiing,” Cris argued.

“Nonsense, I’m a natural athlete,” Topper replied.

“But I’m not you,” Cris shot back, finally losing the ability to perceive the strangeness of the situation.

“Of course you are, you idiot. Who else would you be if not me? I’m such a dumbass!” Topper laughed inside Cris’s head, echoing:

“A dumbass, he he he.”

And suddenly, he also burst out laughing, their laughter mingling as if they were one.

After an unforgettable summer, college time finally arrived. Continuing the established partnership, the boys rented a luxurious apartment near the campus. Archibald had the nerve to try to send Chad to a shared dorm, as if Topper would allow it. He’d never agree to live in a dorm; he deserved the best, and the best was having Chad by his side. This time, Carol’s intervention wasn’t necessary; Archibald simply wasn’t informed of the arrangement, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t bother him. Of course, such an arrangement would be temporary. Both boys were legacies and would soon be inducted into their parents’ old fraternity.

Chad had no option but to choose business-oriented subjects to study, knowing ahead of time that his major would be in business. Topper briefly considered studying sports sciences due to his love of sports, but it wasn’t like he needed it, so why bother? He then decided to enroll in the same subjects as his friend without worrying much about it. After all, college was much more than listening to half a dozen stilted old-timers; it was about making contacts, having new experiences, and above all, having fun!

“But I’m a great student, and business? I’m going to be a writer, aren’t I?”

“Ha, I couldn’t even write the grocery list if I didn’t have someone to do the list and the shopping for me… and great student? I’m always great, even if the grades say otherwise. If I tried a little harder, I know they’d be a lot better, but it doesn’t make any difference in my life.”

“No, education is important!”

“Of course it is; that’s why I studied at the best schools and went to college. But those things only get you so far. When you want to go further, your name and your contacts do more for you than any major.”

Speaking of contacts, Chad and Topper were perfect fraternity material. The two made it through Hell Week unscathed, quickly rising within the organization.

Now, nearing the end of their junior year, the two held positions on the chapter’s board, strong competitors to assume the presidency.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Topper knew that one day he’d have to take responsibility for the family business, but he had no interest in taking on any real responsibility before it was necessary, and he wouldn’t let his best bro do it. Archibald would certainly put pressure on his son, having been president in his day, even if the sour old man never understood anything about what fraternal life really was. No, it was Topper’s duty to make sure his friend had some kind of fun. Helping organize the parties, managing the house, and guiding the newcomers, showing them the path to follow, was more than enough. Man, how he loved to see the terrified looks on the pledges when the blindfolds were taken off, and it was his face they saw first, not knowing they were looking at the guy who would make them men—the right kind of men. They were a family, after all, and he took great pride in being the cool big brother role model.

“It would’ve been nice to have so many friends, to feel part of something.”

“Yeah, man, I love this.”

However, not everything had been perfect; unexpectedly, the angel of death struck the pair of friends again. Sybil, Chad’s mother, died of a sudden illness. And suddenly, Topper found himself in the opposite position from so many years ago. Chad was a grown man and not a boy, yet Topper saw his long-ago image reflected in his friend’s sad eyes on the day of the funeral.

The funeral forced Chad to present himself in a way that his father found appropriate, making him say goodbye to the long hair and stubble he had developed in his time away from him. Topper, as a good friend, supported him, even though he didn't care in the slightest about the grumpy Archie's opinion. Knowing the power of a helping hand, he stayed by Chad’s side the entire time. This was a pain that could only be eased with time, so Topper decided to numb it the best way he knew how. That night, he took Chad to a bar with the intention of drinking him into a stupor.

“Thanks, bro. I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side… Oh god, I’m sounding like a crybaby.”

“Chad, your mom just passed away; today you have the right to look like a crybaby, dude. Which doesn’t justify you being one for all the years we’ve known each other, bro,” Topper replied with a smile.

“Asshole…” replied Chad with a sad smile.

“Speaking of assholes, how’s Uncle Archie doing?”

“Being himself, if you know what I mean? You’d think his wife’s death would soften the old man, but no, he didn’t even give me a hug…”

“I’d hug you, brother, if it put a real smile on your face. But I think I have a better solution.” Topper pointed to a pair of beautiful girls standing on the other side of the bar.

“Oh man, I don’t know…”

“They’re hot, bro. Look, your mom would want you to get on with your life, and right now you need a distraction, soooo… blond or brunette?”

“Both!” Chad replied with his first real smile in a while.

That was a wild night. To avoid unwanted attention from the parents, they took the two women to one of Topper’s apartments in the city, and there, washed down with a lot of alcohol and weed, the four of them ended up in bed in a foursome.

“That was freaking awesome.” Said Topper.

“Yeah, dude, freaking awesome.” Agreed Cris.

Chad spent the next few months in a mood that ranged from depressed to euphoric, usually with a little help from Topper, but gradually improving. Until a new blow hit the duo. On a sunny afternoon less than a week ago, during a college break, as the boys rode through the huge Hawthorne property, they were called by Carol for a chat.

“Boys, an announcement is coming soon, but both Archibald and I would like you to know in advance. This summer, he and I are getting married.”

“What the hell is this, Mom? Are you kidding?”

“Language, Christopher. And no, I’m not kidding. I’d like you to think of it as a… business arrangement—a very beneficial arrangement for both parties.”

“A beneficial arrangement? Mom, we have more than enough money.”

“Christopher, my dear, I raised you better than that; there’s no such thing as enough money.”

“And Aunt Sybil? Your best friend’s body has barely cooled down, and you’re ready to swoop in on her husband. Sorry, bro!” Topper concluded when he remembered who he was sitting next to. But the friend didn’t respond, preferring to direct his attention toward Carol.

“How long? How long have you two been planning this… arrangement, Carol?” The “aunt” was unceremoniously dismissed.

“Archibald and I have been discussing this for some time, and it’s going to be very profitable.”

“Profitable and convenient, isn’t it? You’re still a young woman—not even forty yet. And I must say you hid it wonderfully well, but now looking closely, I can’t help but notice the signs. When can Topper and I expect our brother or sister to be born?”

“Chadwick! How can you say…”

“Drop the act; only something like this would make sense!”

“Okay, I really am pregnant; I never imagined this could happen. Boys, you must understand, nothing happened between me and Archibald while Sybil was alive. Chad, his parents were my biggest source of support after Topper’s dad passed away. Sybil was truly my best friend, and when she left, I felt… empty. Imagine how you would feel without each other? Archibald may seem cold, but he also felt her loss, and in our grief, we ended up supporting each other. One thing led to another, and one night after a few glasses of wine, we ended up…”

“Fucking,” interrupted Topper!

“Christopher, that’s enough; I’m your mother, and I deserve respect.”

“Respect? How can you talk about respect after telling us this?”

“Topper, it’s okay; she’s right; there’s nothing more to be done. Getting rid of the baby isn’t an option; the scandal if this story leaks… I imagine the wedding will be soon, to allay suspicions, although it’ll probably still raise some eyebrows…”

“Yes, it’s the best arrangement we could come up with. Christopher, my dear, I’m really sorry, but it’s for the best. Besides, you always wanted a brother.”

“I already have a brother,” he replied, looking towards his friend.

“Yes, Christopher, and now you will indeed be brothers for real. Think about it. And you, Chad, Topper told me all about how you feel about Archibald, and I’m no idiot despite what anyone might think; I see the way he treats you. I can be a very powerful ally; never underestimate my powers of persuasion, especially when I’m carrying Archibald’s son. You may not believe it, but all his behavior comes from the hopes and expectations he has. It will be very good for you to have someone to share that weight with.”

“Just think about it, brother. We will be real brothers, on paper and in life, and with one more of us on the way. Doesn’t look so bad. Even more so if that way you can get your dad off your back,” Topper said, letting himself be carried away by his mother’s notorious power of persuasion without realizing it.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad, not really, brother,” Chad concluded, smiling back at his friend.

And so the two ended up at that event at the Country Club, where they had spent most of their lives, commemorating the future union of their parents, which would formalize their status as brothers. Topper arrived late, and accompanied by his friend, went to the locker room to put on appropriate clothes before heading to the ballroom. And now the two of them were there, face to face. Topper looking down at his friend’s distorted hand, the glowing red stone emanating constant waves.

“Quite a… quite a story… but… it’s not real… none of it is… real.” Cris reappeared, gathering what was left of his energy.

“Dude, of course, it’s real. If you want it, it’s real; I want it, and I’m you, so it’s real!”

“No… I’m not you… you’re an… invention, you’re nothing but… a rich asshole… who thinks he owns the world… who thinks… has… the world at his feet… your life is all about money… and… parties and…”

“And fun, and not worrying about tomorrow, and friends, real friends, and a mother who does whatever I want, and a brother—a real brother who was always there for me… how could that be something bad?”

“No… no… no… it wasn’t real… no… it couldn’t… be real…” Still, new memories rushed toward him, like a giant wave of red, flooding every inch of his consciousness until there was no empty space left.

Chad studied the face of the young man with glazed eyes and an empty expression sitting in front of him.

His hand burned with heat as he gripped the stone, and he couldn't help but think that maybe it was too much, that maybe he had messed up beautifully.

“It has to work, it has to work…” he muttered. Then the stone emitted its most wave, momentarily blinding him. Upon regaining his sight, he found himself in front of a completely different man. Sitting naked before him was an example of male perfection. A face that looked like it was carved from marble, golden hair in beautiful curls, with the broad, defined musculature of someone who could easily be a fitness model. For a moment terror dominated him, as it seemed that Christopher tried to resist the process with greater intensity, however it did not last more than an instant as another waves come and soon the gargantuan figure that replaced Cristian began to feel and test his gigantic muscles almost automatically with a distant and unfocused look, gradually being replaced by one of extreme confidence and arrogance. If Marvel ever decided to reboot Captain America, the man in front of him wouldn’t be a bad choice—except for the fact that he’d never put himself in that position… unless he thought he’d have fun with it.

And how did Chad know that? He knew this because he suddenly remembered a whole new life, which made his previous life look pale and gray—all thanks to the man in front of him, Topper, his best friend, his brother! And with a smile on his face, he woke him up to reality:

“Hey bro, you okay?”

“What? Chad, bro, sorry I kind of zoned out; damn jet lag. But it was worth it; you should’ve gone with me; Brazil is everything we were told.”

“Not everyone can afford to fly all the way to Rio and hook up with a supermodel whenever they want, bro.”

“True, but we can.”

“Speak, for you, brother.”

“I speak for both of us. If there's one good thing to come out of this whole situation, it's that my mom will get Archie off your back, and we'll finally be able to enjoy life the right way,” Topper concluded while opening a closet and pulling out some clothes. Putting on pristine white boxer briefs, more immaculate than a virgin's soul, but which ironically would make many virgins fall into sin just by looking at the man wearing them. Before putting the other garments he flexed both arms and admired himself in the mirror. “I’m so swole, man.”

“Something had to make up for the lack of brains, brother!”

“You only say that because you're jealous of me, tiny boy.”

"I wouldn't call anything about me tiny.”

“True, but nothing compares to my size, little brother!”

“Some of us prefer classic beauty, Topper.”

“And some of us decided to be real men, Chad.”

That was Topper's mocking response as he walked past his “brother" and gave him a playful pat in the groin.

“Dude, leave the gems alone!”

"Stop being a whiner, I wouldn't do anything to hurt my future nephews," Topper said as he admired himself... again. “Dude, I’m fucking hot!”

“I didn't know jt lag caused brain damage, bro. I thought we'd already been through this whole discussion about your ridiculous handsomeness. Be careful; you don’t have much brain in that head of yours to waste.”

"Asshole, your envy doesn't faze me, try as you might," he replied, finally putting on his suit, the same shade of blue as Chad's.

“So how are the lovebirds doing? I imagine the news about him having another boy to torment has given Archie a break from his usual boredom.”

“Incredibly, yes. Your mother really has a hold on my father; he pestered me a lot less than usual. Although I don't think he's very happy about your delay."

“I couldn't miss the chance to see Archie's eyes pop, especially since he knows he has no power over me. Soon, he won't have any power over you, and I promise you, he won't have any power over that baby either. When he’s born, you and I together are going to show the little one how to live. Now come here, brother; you may not be as handsome as I am, but we still make a great pair.”

….

The two returned to the hall together, always attracting attention from everyone around, but they were used to being the center of attention, and frankly, they deserved it!

They found their parents sitting together at a table, and to both their surprise, Archibald looked more relaxed than they had ever seen him, while Carol turned to both of them with a Cheshire smile.

“Hey boys, we have news. But since Christopher took up so much time, maybe we should save it for another moment…”

“Carol, boys will be boys, so let them be.” Archibald intervened, making the two boys look at each other in disbelief. His expression seemed softer and less predatory than usual.

“Anyway, what Carol was trying to say is we've decided to have the wedding in early summer in Malta, and the good news is you're going a few weeks in advance to get everything ready. We count on you—don’t hold back on effort or money,” Archibald concluded, not seeing the sly smile that Carol gave behind his back, which made the boys' jaws drop—metaphorically, of course, since neither of them would commit such an indignity in public.

….

And so it was that in early July, Chadwick Sutterland found himself enjoying the best that life had to offer on an exclusive Mediterranean island alongside his lifelong best friend, Christopher Hawthorne IV. Thinking about a red gem and gray fading memories of a reality that, for the world, had never existed. He had done really well, in his own opinion. His father was dominated, so much so that he didn't even bother with his son's behaviour in the last months. He had a fierce ally ahead of his family business, even more so now that she was expecting a Sutherland boy, who, when the moment came, he would deliver that stone to be used in a time of need. An unforeseen but very favorable outcome, the stone indeed acted in the best interest of the wielder if its power was allowed to act freely. And the greatest proof of that was his best friend, the brother he had gained, who was at his side talking to him at that very moment.

“Hey bro, what’s with the serious face? You should be enjoying your first real vacation paid for with your dad's money, dumbass,” Topper said with a smile.

“Fine, you asshole,” Chad replied, assuring himself the stone was safe and looking at his brother. “Let’s have some fun!

#male tf #reality change #mind change #corruption #jockification #musclegrowth #mental transformation

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

Note

hii my love! would u mind doing a little blurb on miguel finding out the woman he has been seeing is a stripper? she just feels so embarrassed to admit that and scared It would drive him away but instead he’s pretty much more open about it and become far too protective too. thank you:))

OMG ANON YOU DON'T KNOW HOW OUR BRAINS CONNECTED because listen : i have an au in mind where my spiderpersona is a succub in a strip club, and basically when Miguel is brought there by his friends, they meet

SO YEA i'm living for stripper!reader x miguel (also this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away fdkzefrgd - the club scene from Closer really inspired me for this)... now i want to make a multiple chapter fic on stripper!reader x miguel hELP

summary : miguel discovers you're a stripper

content warnings : NSFW, stripper!reader, reader gives a little private show to miguel (just removes the top though, doesn't reveal the cunt), fem!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 2k song mentionned : world outside - the devlins

tag list : @fandom-ash

Up until now, you had decided to keep your professional occupation to Miguel, for one simple reason: fear.

Fear filled your stomach at the thought of telling him you were a stripper. You and Miguel had been dating for some time, and had quickly become close. The bond was shaping up to be strong, and you were worried that the information about your job would ruin everything.

He'd already asked you a few times what you were doing, but you'd always managed to deflect the subject elegantly. Yet there's no stopping Miguel's determination and curiosity, least of all when the topic of conversation turns out to be you.

So he did something he wasn't particularly proud of, but couldn't resist: while you were out working, he asked Lyla where you were.

She'd given him an address, and some information about it...

"A club?" he'd asked, looking at the street information for the address. "A strip club," Lyla had corrected. "There's no mistake? Are you sure?" he'd questioned, taking a closer look at the establishment's hours and information. "Have you ever seen me calculate a lot of errors?" sighed the artificial intelligence.

Never. Hardly ever had he seen her fail in this area. Maybe you weren't really a dancer there, maybe you were a bartender, or a waitress, who knows. Only, the idea of seeing you wearing a fine outfit and swaying on a stage was strangely appealing to him.

Without missing a beat, he made his way to the address. It wasn't far, which surprised him as much as it reassured him. The very idea that your place of work wasn't far from home appealed to him, as it ensured that if you ever needed to be picked up for any reason, he'd be there.

He arrived at the entrance, breathing in, passed the bouncers who joked that with his build he could get into the business, and entered.

Blue light from two corner spotlights illuminated red velvet-covered staircases leading downwards. He moved forward, the mirrored walls reflecting him. The room's bass could already be heard from outside, but now he could hear the music more clearly.

You light up my dreams, light up my skin. You're so far away, you're holding it in.

The place was quite crowded, and Miguel noticed a fair number of men in suits and ties. He wouldn't have cared in any other context about the consumption habits of these men here, but suddenly the very idea that there were potentially regulars coming to see you displeased him enormously.

As for the place, it smelled of violets and lemongrass. The ceiling was high, revealing a second floor from which hung three chandeliers surrounded by red cubes.

Spotlights were placed here and there, illuminating the important places: the round tables, like the one next to Miguel on which two women on their knees were swaying, undressing each other under the watchful eyes of all the men around the table; the U-shaped bar, from either end of which women were dancing in wisps of sinuous white smoke; and pole-dancing pedestals on their red-lit floor that emphasized the curves of the dancers placed on them.

And he recognized one of the dancers: it was you.

It was an evening like any other, your garter belt was already generously stuffed with bills of various colors against your thigh and you'd already put on a private show. You were on the pole bar, dancing and undulating your body against it under the round, adoring eyes of your little audience.

You'd been in the business for a while now, and you'd managed to make more friends than enemies in the club, enough so that your colleagues became your buddies.

In fact, your friend right next to you softly called your name, and you turned to her as you danced.

"Did you see the one that just came in? He's huge," she pointed out, smiling at the customers around you. "And pretty good looking too."

As you continued your endless choreography, you glanced surreptitiously at the said customer. But your heart dropped into your stomach for a moment as you met Miguel's gaze.

You hesitated between freezing on the spot and running away, but instead tried to keep your cool and your professionalism and continue your dance until he arrived near the pedestal.

"This one," you pointed out to your friend, "is for me."

She gave a little laugh as you motioned for another dancer to take your place and gracefully stepped off your pedestal, advancing towards Miguel as you would a normal customer

"So this was where you were hiding?" asked Miguel a little above the music, tilting his head to the side as he looked you up and down.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, as inquisitive as you were nervous.

"Curiosity got the better of me, and I was right to give in to temptation."

He was watching your outfit, which emphasized your body, your curves highlighted by the glitter and rhinestones mixed with the laces. You were close to him, almost to the point where a simple movement on Miguel's part would allow your two bodies to meet.

"But I'd prefer to discuss this somewhere else...?" he says.

"I'm in the middle of working hours, but... how about a private show?" you offered, drawing even closer to him as your eyes seemed to him irresistible through your lashes.

He shuddered.

"I'd like that."

You smiled softly, taking his hand to guide him towards one of the Paradise Suites. You guided him a little further until you came to a door you knew well and opened it to let him in.

A round sofa circled a round table at its center, the latter illuminated in pink. A strip of light circled the sofa, another path laid out to encourage strippers to be creative and use the room as they saw fit. You weren't expecting to give Miguel a private show tonight, but fate had played a nice trick on you.

You guided him to the sofa, letting him settle there as you climbed up on the table, looking at him with eyes that were usually calculated to convey desire, but this time really felt it.

And he looked at you with, his were dark, pools of ink attentive to your every move.

"How long have you been doing this?" he'd ask, his attention unwavering.

"Five months," you toyed lightly with one of your shoulder straps as you let your other hand roam your body.

He was going to be able to ask you all the questions that came to mind, only if he didn't get too distracted by your beauty.

"Are you allowed to flirt?" he asked.

"Yes, I am." you replied, letting your hand slide down your chest.

"Do you have any regulars?" he leaned forward, his head tilted back to watch you dance.

"Yes, I do. Private clients as well." you turned, your back to him to loosen your corset behind your waist, undulating your body.

The idea that you had regular clients here wasn't disturbing, but the fact that you had private ones displeased him a little more, for the fact that your security was much less framed than it was here.

"I want names."

You let out a small laugh as you turned to face him again.

"You want to make me lose my job?" you knelt on the round table to get to his level.

"No, I want to replace them." he said, his eyes moving from yours to your fingers removing the first strap.

"I'm not allowed to have relationships outside of the club with clients," you countered, tracing the skin of your bare thigh sensually.

"And what do you usually do?" his chest puffed out as he inhaled, feeling a little hotter little by little.

"I dance, I talk, I laugh, I strip, and that is all." you confirmed as you removed the second strap, and with a simple movement unhooked the little clip between your breasts to reveal them.

His eyes were eager, watching your perfect breasts as he parted his lips, mouth agape.

"No touching?" he questioned, eyes still on your body.

"No touching, you can just slide the tips in the garter belt" you advised, your hand sliding against the latter where a few bills were lodged.

"What would happen if I touched you now?" he asked, moving a little closer to the edge of the sofa.

"I would like it," you said, shifting your legs over the front to stand up again on the table gently, "but the security cameras would notice, and probably get you out of here."

Miguel looked up, just above the table, on the ceiling, was a small half globe with a small point of red light.

"Pays well?

"Very well." you smiled, your hands playing dangerously with the string of your thong.

"How much will it cost me to be here with you?"

Miguel wasn't afraid of going broke here, especially for you, he was plenty rich enough for that.

"Depends on what you want." thinking that maybe Miguel didn't want to make you work right now, you got off the table and climbed onto the sofa and then its edge instead, sitting there.

"How high are the prices? I haven't seen the menu of services."

"Our VIP options can go up to 1500 dollars." you say wearily, pretending to walk your index and middle fingers in his direction on the strip of light.

"1500?" he almost exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"Mhm," you hummed, "two hours with two dancers and a bottle of Don Perignon."

He turned towards you, coming closer, his head level with your thigh as his eyes inevitably fell on the bills you'd been given.

"And what's the price if I only want you and nothing else with me?" he questioned as his gaze returned to yours.

"Here, from 80 dollars I can give you a 10-minute air dance." you said as you leaned towards him, your faces close but not yet touching. "Outside, nothing."

A small, proud smile appeared on his lips. However, you being far too hot and gorgeous, he was beginning to feel tight in his clothes, especially his pants.

"What time do you get off?" he asked, sitting up differently, your eyes falling on his crotch and smiling as you bit your lip.

"Five o'clock. Will you last until then?"

He sighed, his eyes falling on your lips, eager.

"I just don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands to myself."

You smiled, then straightened up, reaching for your top. But Miguel took his wallet out of his pocket and slipped a bill under your garter belt. To be deprived of a view like this? Never. You smile a little more, and sit back down on the table, kneeling upright to let him get a good look at you.

He leaned towards you again, intertwining his fingers as his gaze softened slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, biting your cheek as you looked down at your hands carefully placed in your lap.

"I was scared," you admitted with a sigh. "Scared that this would end what we have."

You knew that not all men or simply partners were comfortable with their halves being strippers, and the idea that Miguel shared that opinion terrified you.

"Nena," he called your nickname.

Your head was still down, and you felt the soft sensation of money paper under your chin. Miguel straightened your jaw with a bill, bringing his eyes to yours.

"This isn't a problem to me." he smiled, lowering his hand to place the bill under the elastic of your belt. "This is actually really good."

Confusion seized you along with relief, causing you to frown while sporting a grin.

"Why?"

He tilted his head to one side, smiling proudly.

"I get the satisfaction for everyone to see how gorgeous you are, while being the only one who has the right to touch you."

You let out a small burst of voice somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, the relief of his answer washing over you like a wave of comfort.

After that, he'd deserved more than just a show.

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mrsportgas · 4 months ago

Text

The Neighbor. Chapter 2

Summary: The story takes place in the real world. Shanks, your unbearable neighbor, makes you a proposition that you're unsure whether to reject. It could be the start of a friendship, or maybe something more?

SHANKS X YOU

WARNING: Except for the first chapter, the rest will contain scenes of sex and violence, making this fanfic strictly +18.

TAG LIST: @buggsclownie @commanderfreethatdust

"I'd rather freeze," I whispered to myself.

"Are you coming or not?" Shanks repeated as he approached the porch of his house.

"I'm not going into a stranger's house, thanks."

"You're friends with Luffy, right? Tell him you're at my place, and tell your friend too. Anyway, I don’t think I’m a stranger. I wasn’t going to do anything weird to you."

"That's what you say." The truth was, the cold I felt was unbearable. I figured if I told Nami or even Luffy and something happened, at least they’d know where I was. "Fine, but as soon as Nami arrives, I'm leaving."

Shanks left the bags at his door and walked over to where I stood, shielding myself with the umbrella. "Shall we?" He started walking. I had to jog a little to catch up and fit under the umbrella. As we passed by his car, I noticed it was the same Range Rover that had splashed me earlier.

"Hey! You were the one who drove through a puddle and soaked me!" I said, pointing at my drenched clothes. Shanks scanned me from head to toe with his eyes, licking his lips as he did. Realizing it, I felt so embarrassed. Was he checking me out? At that moment, I couldn't tell if it disgusted me or if I liked it.

I snatched the umbrella from his hands and ran to his front door. "Open up, I'm freezing to death, you freak."

Shanks hurried to the door, running his hand through his wet hair. Damn, he might be older, but he looked amazing. He quickly opened the door, holding it for me to pass.

"Don't look at my butt," I said curtly.

Shanks burst into laughter. "Do you ever relax? What do you think I am, some pervert? A kid like your little friends?"

I entered the house quickly, and honestly, everything was perfectly decorated. Every piece of furniture, every painting, was meticulously placed, and it was all beautiful. There were paintings, statues, and various trinkets from around the world, along with elegant rugs, sofas, and tables.

"Do you like it?" Shanks asked with a smirk as he leaned, arms crossed, against one of the tables.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not as easily impressed as your other friends."

Shanks laughed out loud. "Come on, you'd better take a shower before you soak all the rugs in the house."

"A towel will do."

Shanks motioned for me to follow him to the bathroom. We went upstairs to a huge room with an even bigger bed, and behind one door, the bathroom. "There’s the shower and towels. Do whatever you want."

The bathroom was enormous, with a large shower and a jacuzzi. Clearly, the man had money, unlike our rented house where the faucet barely worked.

Once inside, I locked the door. I didn’t want that pervert opening it or trying anything. I took off my wet clothes, trying to spread them out as much as possible on a radiator on the wall. I took out my phone again to see if anyone had messaged me, but there was nothing. I called Robin, and finally, it started ringing.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Robin answered on the other side of the line.

"Are you with Nami? I locked myself out and can't get in," I replied, hoping Nami was there.

"HEY Y/N!!! COME HERE NOW!!!" I heard Luffy shouting in the background.

"I don’t have my keys, and my clothes are soaked. I need to wait for Nami to get home. Luffy, I’m at your friend’s place."

"Okay, Y/N, I’ll try to contact Nami, or if she comes here, I’ll tell her to bring you the keys," Robin replied.

"HUH? What friend?" Luffy could be heard asking in the background.

"Shanks."

"That’s awesome! Have fun!!! I didn’t know you two were hanging out!" Luffy responded without thinking.

"Luffy, he's just my neighbor, that's all," I said, knowing he wouldn't understand the situation and would keep thinking there was something going on with Shanks. "Robin, we'll talk later. I'm fine. I hope Nami replies soon."

"Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out. Call me if anything happens."

We hung up. I grabbed a towel and got into the shower, cranking the water up to boiling. I really needed it; my body warmed up almost immediately. Shanks’ smile when he looked at me came back to my mind, and I found myself daydreaming about his body and that smile.

Someone knocked on the door. "I left some clothes on the bed. I imagine you’ll want to change; I doubt you can wear your own," Shanks said from the other side of the door.

"Thanks," I replied, unsure of what else to say and feeling embarrassed by my recent fantasies.

I finished showering and wrapped the towel around myself, slowly opening the door just in case he’d decided to wait for me in the room. But no, even the bedroom door was now closed. I quickly grabbed the clothes Shanks had left—a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and some slippers—and took them back to the bathroom to change, feeling secure knowing the door had a lock. When I was ready and mentally prepared, I checked my phone again, but still no word from Nami.

I hesitantly went downstairs. Shanks was in the kitchen, leaning on a high table while looking at his phone.

"Want something to drink? Are you hungry?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his phone.

"I’m fine, thanks," I replied, feeling a bit awkward, rubbing my arms to warm up a little more. "My name’s Y/N, by the way."

Shanks lifted his head and walked out of the room, returning with a blanket. "Here… Y/N," he said with a smile on his face again.

He placed the blanket over my shoulders, brushing my body lightly with his hands. I shivered, feeling his warm touch on my skin, and a part of me wished that moment would never end.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to this city?"

"My Ph.D., and you?"

"I work as a CEO for a multinational," he responded cheerfully.

"I see…"

"You know, I grew up with nothing, so when I realized I could use my brain, I worked hard to get all this so I’d never go hungry again, nor would my parents, although now it’s just me."

"Wow… I’m really sorry."

"Thanks, but I’m fine. As you’ve probably noticed, I spend my time traveling the world and working now and then, although I’ll be stuck here for quite a while," he added.

I responded with a kind of nervous laugh.

"What's your PhD about? What do you want to do with it?" he asked as he sat next to me at the high kitchen table.

We spent quite a while talking about my PhD, university, and our mutual friendship with Luffy. It turned out we had much more in common than we initially thought. So much so that I lost track of time.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering dinner," Shanks said suddenly, moving a bit closer.

"Actually, I am hungry, but I was supposed to meet my friends for dinner. I hope Nami replies soon."

"Well, I'm going to order something, and if you have time, you can have some. If not, no big deal." A big smile appeared on his lips again, making me blush. "What do you like?"

"Order whatever you like."

"Do you like sushi? Check this place out—they just opened. Let’s try it."

"Yeah! Luffy mentioned it yesterday, but they say it's the most expensive place in the city. I'll pay you half."

"You're at my place, you're not paying anything," he laughed.

"Then order something cheaper."

"I don’t care about the money. I’ll get this; it looks good." Shanks started picking out all kinds of sushi, condiments, and appetizers.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was Nami finally calling.

"Y/N!!! I stayed late at university, and then my phone died, I'm so sorry! I just talked to Robin and charged my phone. I'm on my way now. Are you okay?"

"Nami! Yes, I’m fine, I’m at the neighbor's place. Call me when you get here."

"I just ordered everything. Consider it an apology for splashing you with the car," Shanks said with a playful grin. "If you want, sit by the fireplace so you can warm up while you wait for your friend."

We both got up and headed to the sofa. I sat on the end closest to the fireplace, and to my surprise, Shanks sat in the middle. Though I was feeling more and more comfortable, I had to admit that I was starting to enjoy his company.

After a while, the doorbell rang, and we both assumed it was the delivery. Shanks stood up and opened the door.

"Hey, old man, I hope you didn’t do anything to my friend," Nami said, walking right in without caring if she was invited or not.

"Your friend’s just fine, don’t worry," Shanks replied, surprised by her boldness.

"Nami! Let’s go home," I called from the sofa.

"So, it’s true you’re doing okay," Nami teased me, trying to get a reaction.

I got up, folding the blanket, and headed toward the door.

"I know we ordered food," I said, looking at Shanks.

"Don’t worry, you had plans with your friends first."

I smiled slightly, "See you around."

I followed Nami out the door, and we quickly headed back to our place, going straight up to my room. Nami closed the curtains quickly. "Tell me everything."

"Nami, nothing happened. He was just being nice."

"Y/N, you’re wearing his clothes…"

"Oh my god! My clothes… I left them in his bathroom…" We both burst into laughter. I recounted my little adventure as we laughed.

"So, you like him, huh?"

"Nami… He’s just our neighbor, and he’s nice, that’s all," I said, trying to brush off Nami’s mischievous grin. "I should go get my clothes and return his."

"Okay, so I shouldn't wait for you to go back?" Nami asked with a little nudge to stop teasing me.

"You can go ahead if you want, I'll go later."

The truth was, I felt bad since he had ordered dinner for the two of us. And honestly, I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to keep talking to him. So, I changed my clothes and headed back to his door, ringing the bell. "I brought your clothes," I said as soon as he opened the door, hoping he’d ask me to come in.

"Thanks, that was fast," Shanks replied.

Seeing that he hadn’t picked up on my hint, I tried again. "Has the food arrived? I’m hungry."

"Aren't you supposed to have dinner with your friends?" But seeing that I wasn’t making any move to leave, he added, "Do you want to come in?"

Shanks stepped aside, leaving the door open for me to enter. I felt a small sense of relief as I crossed the threshold, returning to the warmth of his home. It was strange how such a short time had been enough for me to feel more comfortable around him, although there was still something about his demeanor that kept me on my toes.

He led me back to the living room, where a low table was now set up with all sorts of sushi, colorful rolls, and some dishes I didn’t even recognize. There were several bottles of sake and tea, and the fireplace was still glowing, casting a warm and cozy light around the room.

"Sake?" Shanks asked, lifting one of the bottles and pouring into two small cups without waiting for my answer.

"Just a little," I replied, taking a seat on the sofa while he sat down beside me, this time closer than before but not uncomfortably so.

I tried my first bite of sushi, and it was delicious. Luffy was right about the food, as always. Shanks watched my reaction with a satisfied smile.

"Good, right?" he asked, sounding confident.

"It’s not bad," I said, trying to sound indifferent, though I knew my expression gave me away. I couldn’t help but smile.

We spent the next few minutes chatting about trivial things: the food, Luffy’s adventures, and our lives before ending up in this city. Shanks spoke with such ease that, for a moment, I forgot about the age difference between us or the fact that, until a few hours ago, I barely knew him.

When we finished eating, he offered me more sake. I hesitated at first but accepted a second cup. I could feel the warmth of the alcohol starting to relax me, and little by little, my guard came down.

"You know, you’re different from what I imagined when I first saw you," Shanks said as he leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the fire in the fireplace.

"Oh yeah? What did you think?" I asked, curious.

"Well, when I soaked you with my car, I thought you’d hate me. Then, when you resisted coming into my house, I knew you had a lot of character. But you’re more… interesting than I expected. You have more layers, you know?"

"Layers?" I laughed at his choice of words. "Like an onion?"

"Something like that," he replied with a smile. "But seriously, I’m intrigued by what you do. The effort you put into your PhD, the passion you have for your studies… It's refreshing to meet someone with such clear goals."

His gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, the atmosphere filled with a tension I didn’t know how to interpret. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I wasn’t expecting it either. I couldn’t help but blush.

“I’m just trying to do the best I can,” I replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from myself. “And you? You must have had to work incredibly hard to get where you are.”

Shanks set the sake glass on the table and got comfortable, now looking at me directly.

“Yeah, but I’ve also been lucky. I think in life, you have to be in the right place at the right time… and know how to seize opportunities when they come.”

I felt the weight of his gaze, making the air feel thicker. We were sitting closer now, and the spark in his eyes wasn’t something I could easily ignore.

“And what do you plan to do now that you’re here for a while?” I asked, trying to break the silence that had formed between us.

“Right now?” he asked with a small smile, as if he knew what I was trying to do. “I suppose I’ll take the time to enjoy the company… and see what comes up.”

I couldn’t help but notice the hint in his voice. I bit my lip, feeling the atmosphere fill again with that strange mix of attraction and hesitation.

Suddenly, the sound of my phone vibrating on the table broke the tension. It was Nami.

“Excuse me,” I murmured as I picked up the phone and stood to answer it. Looking at the screen, I saw a message:

Nami: “Are you coming in the end? Everything okay?”

I looked at Shanks, who was still watching me with that same smile on his lips, then back at Nami’s message. I hesitated for a moment, then typed my response.

Me: “I’m fine, don’t worry. I think I’ll stay here.”

I put my phone away and turned back to Shanks, who had now also stood up.

“Everything okay with Nami?” he asked casually.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I told her I’d stay a bit longer. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he replied as he slowly approached, his eyes still locked on mine. “In fact, I’m glad you decided to stay.”

I felt a slight shiver run through me, but this time it wasn’t just from the cold.

Shanks was slowly getting closer. I could feel his presence filling the space around me as his gaze remained fixed on mine. The warmth of the fireplace still filled the room, but it wasn’t the only thing making my senses sharper.

Without a word, Shanks sat down next to me on the couch, closer than he had been before. His fingers brushed against my leg with a softness that surprised me. It wasn’t intrusive, but the warmth of his hand on my bare thigh, right where my sweatpants left the skin exposed, made me hold my breath. I glanced down, seeing his hand moving slowly as he traced soft circles with his fingers.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, his voice low and deep, filled with a sweetness I hadn’t expected.

“Yes…” I replied in a murmur, my body reacting faster than my mind could process. His hand moved up slightly, now caressing my arm with the same care he had shown on my leg. His touch was gentle, almost as if testing the limits.

The contact was disconcerting but also exciting. My thoughts tangled between the sensation of his fingers on my skin and the uncertainty of what would come next.

I could feel the tension building in the air, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. I bit my lip, trying to organize my thoughts, but the moment felt as if it were about to burst in any direction.

Just when it seemed everything was about to overflow, Shanks slowly withdrew his hand, giving me space and a smile full of intention. “It’s late now. Shall I walk you home?”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret his words, but I nodded. “Yes, that would be best. Thanks for dinner and for letting me stay here a while.” I stood up, feeling the warmth of the fireplace and the touch of his hands still lingering on my skin.

Shanks grabbed the jacket he had left on a chair and offered it to me. “It’s cold outside. I don’t want you getting wet again.” I put it on, grateful for the gesture. We walked together to the door, and with a subtle motion, Shanks opened and held it for me to pass through.

The night air was cold, but less biting than it had been earlier. We walked in silence the few meters separating our houses. When we reached my door, Shanks stopped and looked me directly in the eyes.

“It’s been a good night, Y/N. I’m glad you came.”

“Yes, it was… interesting.” I smiled shyly. Though the air was still charged, the proximity to my door made me feel a bit safer.

“Goodnight, Shanks.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

I watched as he turned and crossed the street back to his house. When his door closed behind him, I sighed and opened mine, climbing the stairs to my room, my mind still swirling from the events of the night.

The next morning dawned fresh and quiet, and to my relief, I didn’t have any academic commitments. Nami, Robin, and I had planned to go out that night. A new nightclub had opened in town, and we had decided it was the perfect occasion to dance and forget about the hectic week we’d had.

Around nine at night, we gathered at the apartment. Nami, as always, looked stunning in a tight dress that fit her perfectly. Robin had opted for something more casual but equally elegant. I, for my part, had chosen a fairly sexy but flattering dress, not wanting to go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Robin asked as she touched up her makeup in front of the mirror.

“Yes, let’s go. I need a couple of drinks to relax,” I responded, still thinking about what had happened the night before with Shanks. I hadn’t shared all the details, just mentioned that I’d had dinner at his place, but Nami kept making playful comments whenever she had the chance.

We walked together to the nightclub, which was already packed. The neon lights and the music pulsed through the air, making the floor vibrate beneath our feet. We entered, and soon we were lost in the crowd. As we danced and laughed, I began to relax. The rhythm of the music made me forget, for moments, the nervousness I had felt since the night before.

Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure at the bar. Shanks. He was surrounded by a group of friends, all laughing and drinking, clearly enjoying the night. He was wearing a tight black shirt that highlighted his physique, and his red hair was slightly messy, giving him a carefree, seductive look. I froze.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked, noticing my reaction.

“Nothing, it’s just… Shanks is here,” I replied, discreetly pointing toward the bar.

Nami turned and saw him. “That’s Shanks? Wow, I didn’t expect to see him here,” she said, smiling mischievously.

“Are you going to say hi?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I don’t know… I don’t want him to think I’m following him or something,” I replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Let’s go to the bar anyway, I need a drink,” Nami said, already pulling us by the hands toward where Shanks was.

As we approached, Shanks looked up and saw me. A wide smile spread across his face, and he stepped away from his group of friends to come closer.

“Y/N, what a surprise to see you here,” he said, his voice rising above the music.

“Hi,” I responded with a nervous smile. “We came out to have some fun.”

“Do you want a drink? My friends and I have already ordered a bit of everything. Help yourselves, girls,” he said, also addressing Robin and Nami.

“Yes, sure, why not?” I replied, feeling my nerves intensify. Shanks offered me a drink and gestured for me to join him in a quieter area.

While Robin and Nami stayed chatting with the rest of the group, Shanks and I found a corner where the noise of the nightclub wasn’t as overwhelming. We sat on a couch, our legs brushing accidentally.

“I thought about you today,” Shanks said suddenly, looking at me intently.

“Oh, really? Why?”

“I felt like our evening was cut short. I was tired, but I wanted more. How about another dinner? What do you say?” he asked, his tone serious but filled with a slight provocation.

I stared at him, feeling that same tension from the night before returning all at once.

“That could be a good idea,” I replied, smiling shyly.

Suddenly, Nami appeared abruptly, dragging Robin by the arm. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Shanks leaned toward me, whispering, “I’ll see you later. Enjoy your night.” With that, he stood up and returned to his friends.

Nami pulled us toward the bathroom. “Girls, emergency. One of the friends from next door is my PhD advisor.”

“And what’s the problem?” Robin asked, confused.

Nami blushed instantly. I already knew what was going on.

“That’s why you stayed so late the other day and didn’t answer my messages. You like him!”

Nami quickly covered my mouth as if anyone could hear us. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“He’s very handsome,” Robin said

The three of us laughed and took the opportunity to tease Nami for a while, returning all the comments she made to us daily.

“Girls, I’m going to refill my drink, I’ll be right back,” I said, noticing that the drink Shanks had given me was empty.

As I approached the bar, Shanks and some others from his group were laughing and chatting with a group of girls. One of them, in particular, couldn’t stop touching and flirting with him, and Shanks didn’t seem to mind much.

I timidly approached the bar and ordered my drink. Suddenly, someone put their arm around my shoulders.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here… are you stalking me?”

Kid.

“Kid,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are you alone? Come with me outside for a while, let’s talk,” he said, grabbing my hand.

“No, I’m with friends, thanks,” I replied.

I grabbed my drink, intending to find my friends and leave. I spotted Nami and Robin, who had joined the group and were each talking with one of Shanks’ friends.

Kid pulled me toward him, gripping my hand tightly. “Who did you come with? Your new boyfriend? I bet he’s got nothing on me. I’m better,” he said.

I tried to pull away from his hand, but his grip was strong. “Come back to me, or I’ll break that idiot’s face.”

“Leave me alone, Kid.”

“Come on, who is it? You probably made him up,” he said, loosening his grip just slightly but not enough for me to escape the situation.

“Him,” I said, pointing at Shanks.

Kid burst out laughing. “Yeah, right, like anyone would believe that. Prove it, then. Go over there and show me you’re with him, and I’ll leave you alone.”

I turned and saw the worried looks on my friends’ faces and Shanks glancing in our direction.

Kid let go of my arm, and I used the opportunity to escape from him.

“I’m waiting, Y/N,” he shouted after me.

I had to do something; I had to get rid of him. I downed my drink in one gulp to gather the courage and make a decision. Okay.

I quickly made my way through the crowd toward Shanks. He greeted me with a look of surprise, though there was an intense look in his eyes, scanning me from head to toe, not missing a single move I made.

I got closer, and Shanks instinctively leaned toward me, much to the astonishment of the girl who was gripping his bicep. Without thinking about the consequences, or anyone else around us, or even what Shanks might think or want, I grabbed him by the neck. My hands moved to his face, and I quickly pressed my lips toward his, not giving anyone time to think about what was about to happen.

Our lips fused together passionately. Shanks grabbed my waist, and his other hand moved to my hair, gripping it firmly. After a moment, his tongue pushed past my lips, deepening the kiss with fiery intensity while his friends began cheering and laughing. I was so embarrassed that I pulled away from his lips. Shanks let go of me, but his gaze lingered on my wrist.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked with concern.

I looked down at my wrist, which was red from Kid’s rough grip.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again as I remained silent.

The ringing in my ears grew louder and louder. I had been too impulsive, and now everything was crashing down on me.

Shanks took my other hand and led me to a quieter part of the bar, where the atmosphere was calmer.

“Are you okay pretty? Do you want me to take you home?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. I needed to calm down and get back to normal. I didn’t want to ruin the night.

“Who is that guy?” he asked again, his tone more relaxed, as he moved a little closer and gently massaged my back.

“He’s my ex. He won’t leave me alone,” I said, closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission.”

Shanks leaned in even closer, slowly pressing his body against mine, and once again, his lips met mine with great passion. He kissed me for a few seconds, then moved toward my ear.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered while gently biting my ear.

I nodded, completely surrendering myself.

He lifted my dress slightly, slipping his hand under it and grabbing my butt firmly, massaging it while he returned to kiss me again, fiercely.

NEXT CHAPTER

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years ago

Note

the 'Kon :)' in the list of things you're pleased about in aeiwam has be EXCITED please tell us more (if you want to)!

Soon after Masaki died, Isshin Kurosaki moved his family. It's mostly because the original clinic didn't feel haunted- if Masaki's spirit were still here, Isshin would know what to do, but instead he felt like his heels were dogged by the hole where she used to be.

It didn't hurt that the new place was larger, in a better school district, and closer to his friend Ryukken. He's almost feeling cheerful about the new place when Ichigo runs up the stairs and from room to room before calling dibs on one, because he's a big kid now and doesn't want to sleep where he has to listen to his dad snoring all night >:(.

Isshin felt slightly less cheerful when he looked out the big window in Ichigo's room to determine if he needs to put up some child safety grates, and realized their new neighbor was a taxidermist.

"I feel like it gives them a sort of dignity- A Life After Life, if you will." she said when he went by to make sure his neighbor was only eccentric and not something out of a horror movie. He wasn't entirely sure which, actually- Ms. Tanaka was an octogenarian with skin like tissue paper and a back like a question mark, but her living room was a veritable zoo of reconstituted animals, many of them former pets, if the number of domestic cats was anything to go by.

"Oh. Yeah!" Isshin grinned, terrified, and was struck by the idea of some goon in the 12th division slavering in the afterlife, desperate for her to shuffle off the mortal coil and bring her undoubted skills with dead bodies to R&D. "We've always been very spiritual people."

(Continued under the readmore)

"Oh, just like the nice young man who used to live in your house!" said Ms. Tanaka, sitting down in her armchair that was adorned by an ostentatious past-tense peacock perched on the back. "Odd fellow. Worked nights, spoke like he was born in the Sengoku Era or something, but very nice."

"He's BEAUTIFUL!" said Ichigo, staring in awe at an enormous Ginger Tabby Cat by the window, mounted in repose on a emerald velvet cat bed. Ms. Tanaka had done an excellent job conveying a sense of benevolent egotism on his whiskered face, but Ichigo's growing fascination with the Macabre was beginning to worry his father- Ichigo had seen the taxidermy stoat in the back window and INSISTED on coming along.

"Isn't he?" beamed Ms. Tanaka. "His name is Bostov! He was my very best friend for many years."

"Wow! Can I pet him?" Ichigo asked, eyes wide with delight.

"Ichigo, that's uh- that's not a real kitty-" Isshin began to sputter.

"Of course he's a real kitty!" Ms. Tanaka laughed, a noise like an ungreased gate. "You can pet him if you're very gentle." Ichigo stroked the deceased animal with exceptional delicacy for an overexcited Kindergartner. "He's so soft!" he gasped.

"Do you like him?" asked Ms. Tanaka.

"I LOVE HIM!" Said Ichigo, cheeks flushed and eyes bright for the first time in months now. Perhaps having a distant relative of the Addams family for a neighbor isn't so bad, if her creepy hobby cheers Ichigo up... Isshin sighed.

"In that case, why don't you take him home with you?" Smiled Ms. Tanaka. "I'm sure he'll be a good friend to you too."

"UH." Isshin blurted out, nearly spilling his tea on a flock of quail under the side-table.

"I have SO MANY friends in my home with me- it's bordering on a fire hazard!" Ms. Tanaka chuckled. "I'd be delighted to send him to a home where he'll be loved. Please- consider him my housewarming present!"

"CAN WE? CAN WE TAKE HIM HOME? PLEASE DAD??PLEEEEEEEASE-!!" Ichigo asked, stars in his eyes.

Isshin froze, horrified at the prospect of having... That. In his house. Watching him. ...and at the same time, completely unwilling to dash his little boy's dreams.

"yEaH oKaY." Isshin grimaced, soaked in a cold sweat.

*****

Bostov The Former Cat was bad enough, but at least the taxidermy beast 'lived' on Ichigo's bedroom dresser and not down in the living room where Isshin would have to look at it's green glass eyes, which seemed to follow him around the room. It wasn't right having a hollow thing in the house like that- any wandering spirit could decide to climb in there! He resolved to have it warded, but Kisuke said he was on a trip to the Caribbean for "Botanical Research" , and wouldn't be back until "After the Big Holiday on the 20th". Isshin hung up the phone, groaned and rubbed his face. It was fairly late, and he was still at the kitchen table, going through all of the licensing paperwork to get the clinic up and running.

"Hey Dad?" Ichigo asked, holding up a small plastic toy. "What's 'Soul Candy'?"

"Soul Cand-?" Isshin frowned, turned to look at the toy and nearly jumped out of his skin, swiping it away from the boy. "WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS? DID YOU EAT ANY??"

"...it was upstairs, in the back of my closet." Ichigo pouted. "-and no, I didn't eat any strange closet candy. I'm not stupid."

"Oh thank the Gods..." Isshin sighed, sitting back down at the table and shaking the small, duck-headed pill dispenser. Empty. "-I'm sorry I yelled Ichigo, but this is Very Dangerous stuff."

Ichigo arched an incredulous Eyebrow at him. "Really? Is this the same kind of dangerous that the half my Halloween candy you confiscated and ate was?"

"Ah- well. No. That was Dad Tax. This is actually dangerous. Here, come sit with me a minute." he pulled out the other chair at the kitchen table. "Remember how I told you about the ghost that lived in my attic when I was your age?"

"The Shinigami?" Ichigo asked.

Isshin did not *enjoy* lying to his children, but a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, and not enough even more so, so he'd concocted a little fantasy to explain why he knew all about ghosts and why the children never saw their grandparents, so he could tell them about the dangers of this world without telling them too much.

"That's right- His name was Kaien Shiba, and he was a Soul Reaper. At night, he'd turn into a ghost and leave his body behind, and go escort spirits to the afterlife or fight hollows." Isshin said. he'd named the fictional soul reaper after his favorite nephew in a fit of inspiration- he'd started telling Ichigo a tale from his days as a Shinigami one night after slightly too many drinks and had to convince Ichigo that that was only a distant acquaintance.

"...Like what killed Mom." Ichigo muttered.

"Um. Yeah." Isshin nodded.

They were silent for a moment.

"-Anyway, the way he turned into a ghost was that he'd swallow one of these little candies that would come in these tubes-" Isshin pulled the duck's head back to show Ichigo the mechanism. "-and Poof! he'd jump out of his body as a ghost so he could use magic to save people! But-there was a little soul inside the candy that would come out and take care of his body while he was away! Like a babysitter, but for his own butt! After a few hours, the little soul would stop working, and Kain would be home to climb back in."

Ichigo blinked at the mechanism, thinking. "So. There's a little person in these candies?"

"If there were any in here, yeah." Said Isshin. "They're not like. Whole people. Just little collages of behaviors and phrases. You know, like the fake voice that talks on the phone when you call to refill a prescription!" Ichigo frowned, considering something. "...There weren't any candies in this thing, were there?" Isshin asked, suspicious.

"No." Said Ichigo, frowning at him. "It'd be really lonely, being just a little soul, stuck in a candy, wouldn't it?" he asked.

"I suppose so, but I don't think the little souls are aware while they're in there. It's like being asleep for them." Isshin shrugged, lying to himself as much as his son about that.

Ichigo still frowned. "...What happens if the candy goes into a body without a soul in it? Like a dead body?" "Huh." Isshin frowned. "I dunno, actually. I guess the little soul would run around and operate it for a while, until it faded out, like it did with a normal body?"

Ichigo nodded, still preoccupied.

"Why?" Isshin tried.

"...No reason." Ichigo muttered, kicking his little feet. "Just thinking."

"Alright. Promise me if you find anything else weird or see any random candies to not touch them and tell me right away, okay?"

"Yeah okay." Ichigo nodded, only sort of paying attention. "I'm gonna go to bed. G'night dad." he muttered, getting up from the table and handing the dispenser to Isshin before giving him a quick hug and stomping up the stairs.

Isshin watched him go, aching a bit. I wondered how old he was gonna be when he started keeping secrets from me. He sighed, looking down at the Soul Candy Dispenser. Not that I'm being a Paragon of Honesty for him to follow...

---

"GIRLS? ICHIGO? HAVE ANY OF YOU SEEN MY STETHOSCOPE?" Isshin hollered, searching fruitlessly under the couch cushions.

"NO!" Hollered Karin from where she and Yuzu were playing in the small front yard.

"TRY ICHIGO'S ROOM, HE TOOK A BUNCH OF LAUNDRY UP TO SORT." called Yuzu.

"THANKS GIRLS!" he called back stomping up the stairs. Ichigo was at karate- he'd finally returned to classes, or at least, Tatsuki had finally physically dragged him back into the Dojo. "Man I hope I didn't put it through the washing machine-" he muttered, opening the door to the boy's room and started searching through the basket of laundry on his bed.

Isshin stopped, and stood up, frowning around the room. Something was off.

Ichigo was a tidy boy, somehow, and his room was usually in order save for whatever video game he had out to play and the bed he never made but... Isshin turned fully around trying to figure out what was off before his eyes finally landed on the top of the Dresser.

The Emerald Green Velvet Cat bed, home of Bostov The Cat, was empty.

"Did he take the cat out of the bed to play with?" Isshin wondered aloud, hoping that that, and not several other horrible scenarios, was what was happening. He could hear Karin and Yuzu giggling through the window, and he peeked down at them- they appeared to be having a tea party on the thin strip of grass, and the guest of honor amongst the dolls and stuffed animals was a familiar-looking ginger tabby. "Oh! The GIRLS took him out to play with." he sighed with relief, leaning against the window to watch them.

...and watch a strange man approaching down the street, who stopped at the garden fence. Isshin frowned- maybe he was just watching the girls play, in a normal, wholesome way like he was doing right now. ...or he could be taking candy out of his pocket and waving the girls to come through the gate.

Isshin jumped on the bed, tore open the window with such force it jumoed out of it's track and was halfway out to jump down at the man from the second floor when the most EXTRAORDINARY thing happened.

Bostov, Who by all accounts had been deceased for the better part of a decade and was made of little more than a skin and some glass stretched over a wood-and-cotton frame, Suddenly leapt up from his chair, claws and teeth drawn like swords and leapt upon the man, battering him visciously with a stream of einvective so foul it made Isshin's barrack-hardened linguistic sensibilities blush, before chasing him back down the street like a short, furious, ass-seeking missile.

"GIRLS!" he shouted, jumping down anyway. "-ARE YOU OKAY?"

"DON'T GET MAD AT ICHIGO OR KON!!" Shouted Yuzu, tears in her eyes.

"...ichigo or who?" Isshin blinked.

"Way to spill the beans, Yuzu." Karin groaned. "Yeah Dad, we're FINE- Kon was here, he'll beat the crap out of anything."

"Who's Kon?" Isshin repeated.

"HEY DAD." Shouted Ichigo, skidding into the garden in his karate gi, and out of breath, clutching an unconvincingly stiff Mr. Bostov under his arm. "SO. UH- WELL MR. BOSTOV CAN MOVE NOW. FOR SOME REASON."

"Uh-huh?" Isshin glared at the cat, who glanced away nervously. "Why do you think that is?"

"...it's a Christmas Miracle?" Tried Ichigo.

"Ichigo, it's fucking April." groaned Karin.

"...Passover?" tried Ichigo.

"-This wouldn't have anything to do with that Soul Candy Dispenser you found, would it?"

"uhhhhhhh..." said Ichigo. Honesty might not have been one of the boy's virtues, but at least he was a terrible liar.

"PLEASE DADDY DON'T GET ANGRY!!" Sobbed Yuzu, throwing herself around his calf and wailing. "MR. KON IS THE MOST NICEST KITTY IN THE WHOLE WORLD! HE PLAYS TEA TIME AND DRESS-UP WITH US AND TELLS JOKES AND CHASES AWAY DOGS AND SCARY MEN AND HE ALWAYS WAKES UP ICHIGO WHEN HE'S HAVING A NIGHTMARE-!"

"Yeah, actually, Kon's like. the first thing to make me laugh since. Well." Mumbled Karin, plodding over to Isshin's other leg and leaning heavily on him. "Please? he's weird, but he's a good guy."

Isshin sighed, then glared back down at the cat. "Alright. Who are you?" he demanded.

Ichigo and the formerly immobile cat glanced at each other and the feline unfolded as Ichigo set him down, shaking himself out and sitting on the walkway.

"So, uh- Hi. My name's Kon. Kon Bostov, if you wanna be formal, in honor of the beast whose body I currently inhabit." He nodded, waving a paw evocatively. "-And, uh. Well, how much do you know about the afterlife?"

"-Being from a long line of psychic mediums and prone to hauntings, my parents rented out our attic to a Shinigami when I was a child, and he told me pretty much everything." Said Isshin, and Kon winced. "So. Is 'Kon' short for 'Mod Konpaku'?"

"Ehh... well, Yeah." Kon winced. "-But hey! It wasn't my idea to be cooked up in a lab by some maniac and then put to death minutes later for something I didn't even do!" he snarled, fur bristling.

"What?" asked Karin.

"Kids I- Look, I didn't mean to lie, there just wasn't a good time to bring it up but. Technically, I'm wanted by the law. I'm an artificial soul created for battle to be put into dead bodies, but literally four and a half minutes after I woke up, the soul society- where all the Shinigami are from- condemned me to die, because they didn't like how strong some of the other Mod Souls were. I managed to roll myself off of the table and into a box of normal bodyminders to hide, Got put in a dispenser and then the shinigami that had been here accidentally left me behind." Kon explained.

"COOL!" Shouted Karin.

"NOT COOL. BAD!" Shouted Isshin. "Okay, okay I- I mean you're right, I never- I mean, the way Kaien told it, the whole Mod Soul program was pretty shady and it sounded really unfair. But why would a Shinigami just leave an important and dangerous tool lying around?"

"...I don't know how much spiritual sense you have my guy, but this town doesn't have a Hollow problem so much as the Hollowpocalylse goin' on." Kon grimaced. "-I really hope that guy's okay, he seemed pretty cool from what I could tell. I don't actually remember hearing him get called back to soul society." Kon muttered. "-Anyway, about three weeks ago, your brother found me in the dispenser in the back of his closet and put my candy body into this taxidermy cat, and I've been hanging out with the kids since then! You know, like a cat is supposed to do!"

Isshin stared blankly at Kon. The girls hugged his legs, lips wobbling, but he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, firming up his resolve- no matter how nice he seemed, a Mod Soul was a dangerous thing- and one crafty enough to live right under his nose for the better part of a month? No, absolutely n-

Isshin opened his eyes to see Ichigo had picked up Kon, cradling the cat to his tiny body, eyes wide and beginning to glisten with tears.

"...Ah. What the hell. You make the kids laugh." Isshin sighed, and all four cheered, thanking him profusely and promising to be extra-good and take good care of Kon- "But you put so much as a Whisker out of line and you're in deep trouble, got it?" Isshin leaned into the cat's face, scowling menacingly and shaking his finger at Kon.

"Understood sir!" Kon Saluted. "So when's dinner? Ichigo's been sneaking me scraps but I could really go for some chicken, or maybe ham-" he asked, tail thrashing excitedly.

"You can eat?" Isshin asked. "I thought you were all... Whatever they stuff taxidermy animals with?"

"-Might've been, but I'm all complete now? Fluff, guts, claws-the works!" Kon shrugged, hopping up on Isshin's shoulder. "-Between you an' me, I ain't even neutered! But that ain't a problem- Plenty of hot pussy around, if you know what I mean, especially that sweet little tuxedo bobtail just up the street- Me-YOW, huh?"

"Oh gods." Groaned Isshin, covering his face. "What am I letting into my house?"

"An intact male cat is called a 'Tom' Dad." Karin called over her shoulder.

"Alright Kon, a few rules- No more swearing in front of the kids, no bringing ladies around the house and for goodness sake DON'T TELL ANYONE YOU'RE HERE!" Isshin snarled at him.

"Alright, alright!" Kon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Out of curiosity though- What rank was your guy Kaien?"

"Hm?" Isshin asked.

"Only that I thought only the captains and a few lieutenants ever knew about project Spearhead." Kon glanced at Isshin, arching an orange-striped brow at him. "-funny thing, having a seated officer doing routine patrols, isn't it?"

"I dunno?" Shrugged Isshin, trying to keep his shoulders from tensing up, "-He didn't actually tell me all that much about how the soul society is governed."

"Huh." Kon nodded, smirking just a bit. "Interestin' guy, this Kaien. You should tell me about him sometime!"

"KOOOOONN!" Yuzu called. "My Dollie's shoe got under the fridge!"

"Coming Sweetie!" Kon called, jumping off Isshin's shoulder to reach his skinny little cat arm under the fridge and swat the missing accessory out from under the appliance. Yuzu applauded with delight and hugged him, laughing for the first time in ages.

Isshin watched them play for a bit and sighed. He not a bad guy, this Kon. All the same- Isshin took out his phone and dialed a number.

"~Urahara Shoten, home of Karkura Town's finest Candies, Cell Phones and Card Games! I'm on sabbatical 'til the end of the month or so, so if it's an emergency, hang up and call the Kurosaki Clinic! Or die! If it's not an emergency, leave me a message with what you need and I'll hook you up when I get back! Bye!~" Urahara's voicemail recording sing-sang over the line.

"Kisuke. It's me, Isshin. You will not fucking believe what my kids found in the new house. Call me as soon as you get back."

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #Isshin Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki #Kisuke Urahara #Kon

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